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helwenA friend of mine and I have had talks about performing in public, and the fear and anxiety that can happen. I thought it was worth posting here in my LJ.
What do people fear? We usually talk about specific things, but in the end, it is a fear of the unknown. Why should anyone try to overcome their fear of the unknown? Depending on the fear, because it may be holding you back from what you yearn to do. It may keep you from living life. It may save your life. It may save someone else's. The reasons to overcome your fears are as many as the number of fears themselves.
Talk about an unknown to fear though! When you're performing for someone(s) you don't know, you have no idea how they'll receive the music and/or story. How do you read a roomful of people? Will they appreciate what you're singing or playing for them, will the story you tell be one they're interested in hearing? Will your voice crack, will you hit the correct strings, keys, holes? Will you forget a line, a verse? Will you completely mess up on the tempo? And if you do make an error, will they notice, will you be able to correct, and will they forgive the error if they noticed it, or send you running out of the hall/off the stage in shame with their scorn and laughter?
If you share something dear to your heart, will they understand and share that love of what you hold dear?
There is a lot to fear, in performing in public.
Fear is indeed interesting, and so are people and how they deal with it. For instance, someone may have a fear of heights but be able to ride a roller coaster. They cannot, however, ride a ferris wheel -- too much time to think about where they are.
Myself, I can deal with heights, and depending on the situation, greatly enjoy it. But I hate rollercoasters -- can't stand the sudden drops, especially if I can't see where the track went. But I'd probably love being on a hang glider; they've always held a tremendous appeal. For me it's not so much the height as whether or not I have some kind of support structure, be it ladder or wings and harness. And I don't like going backwards-headfirst either, but that one I've actually worked on dealing with, because it's more likely I'll be in a situation where I have to/will go backwards, than that I'll ever be on something like a rollercoaster, in real life.
I know I've talked with my friend about this before, but I'll try to express my approach to performance again, and maybe I'll say something differently this time, that will be helpful, or something will click... I know the performance thing is important to my friend, so it's worth the try, right? And perhaps something here will be helpful to others, and that can only be a good thing.
For performance I almost never go solo -- except when making a little speech in court or when teaching. The first time I ever came close to that was a talent show in junior high -- I was on stage singing, and a friend of mine was playing the piano next to the stage. It was a difficult piece for me, but the one that she was learning to play, so there we were. Part way through I lost track of where I was in the song and started to lose it -- the only thing that saved me was the Home Ec teacher, Ms. Morel, who was running the talent show. She was just standing there smiling and encouraging, and I took strength from her confidence in me to find the words and the place in the music where I could start the next verse and finish the song. I didn't win the show of course, but I got a heckuva lot of respect from other kids through the weeks following, and the rest of the school year was a lot easier on me because of it.
Speaking in class or in a small group I have gained more ease in, but speaking in court is still difficult. And I have a strong desire still to want to be able to sing for others, because I want to share my love of music (I'd also like to be able to dance in public comfortably, but I can only do that in company as well, not solo).
I fear singing in public, which makes it harder to produce music well (throat tightening, etc.). I approach it the same way I approached leaving Quodata (computer software company) years ago to try to find my true path, the same way I approach speaking in court or teaching, or anything else that means I have to put myself out in front of people. It's probably hardest with music because it affects me so strongly, but my desire to share what I love, so that others can share in how wonderful it is, is also very strong, and so I have to keep trying.
What I do and have done, is to repeat to myself that I have to have faith. Faith that things will work out. Faith that they'll see and feel things as I do. Faith that a connection will be made. Faith that this is the right thing to do.
It can be a fearful thing when instinct and training tell you that you should run away, that it can't work, that something terrible will happen. Faith seems like a small, weak, and helpless thing. There were many times right after I left Quodata that I was so uncertain of what was going to happen, that I would literally speak my mantra "Have Faith" more like "havefaithhavefaithhavefaithhavefaithhavefaith..." Eventually you realize that you have lived for another day, that you are in fact accomplishing things. It may be slower or less grand than you thought it would be, but it is also more manageable and less fear-instilling than you thought it would be. My mantra is ongoing still, and likely always will be, if more internally than before. This also helps to keep things more manageable and hopeful as well, because it reminds me of my connection to others, to the world, and to whatever forces are out there that have miraculously aided me in my chosen path in life.
I still sing primarily with a group of people, but it's a small group and every voice is needed, to create the whole. Which is a wonderful thing in and of itself. I can sing solo if I have to now; not as well as I might like, but I can do it. In Concentus sometimes we each have to take turns holding down a part singly as well, and that I'm able to do well, I think in part because I am doing it to support my friends, and I will do a lot for my friends, even sing alone on a part -- and it feels good to be able to provide that support too :)
Music and dance are both a celebration and intrinsic part of creation. To sing, play, or dance, to tell a story or poem from your heart, whether to express happiness, love, sorrow, humor, or anger, is to touch creation. And that is a joyful and awesome thing. These things all celebrate our connection and place within creation. That is why it is worth overcoming fear, so that we can share that celebration of life.
What do people fear? We usually talk about specific things, but in the end, it is a fear of the unknown. Why should anyone try to overcome their fear of the unknown? Depending on the fear, because it may be holding you back from what you yearn to do. It may keep you from living life. It may save your life. It may save someone else's. The reasons to overcome your fears are as many as the number of fears themselves.
Talk about an unknown to fear though! When you're performing for someone(s) you don't know, you have no idea how they'll receive the music and/or story. How do you read a roomful of people? Will they appreciate what you're singing or playing for them, will the story you tell be one they're interested in hearing? Will your voice crack, will you hit the correct strings, keys, holes? Will you forget a line, a verse? Will you completely mess up on the tempo? And if you do make an error, will they notice, will you be able to correct, and will they forgive the error if they noticed it, or send you running out of the hall/off the stage in shame with their scorn and laughter?
If you share something dear to your heart, will they understand and share that love of what you hold dear?
There is a lot to fear, in performing in public.
Fear is indeed interesting, and so are people and how they deal with it. For instance, someone may have a fear of heights but be able to ride a roller coaster. They cannot, however, ride a ferris wheel -- too much time to think about where they are.
Myself, I can deal with heights, and depending on the situation, greatly enjoy it. But I hate rollercoasters -- can't stand the sudden drops, especially if I can't see where the track went. But I'd probably love being on a hang glider; they've always held a tremendous appeal. For me it's not so much the height as whether or not I have some kind of support structure, be it ladder or wings and harness. And I don't like going backwards-headfirst either, but that one I've actually worked on dealing with, because it's more likely I'll be in a situation where I have to/will go backwards, than that I'll ever be on something like a rollercoaster, in real life.
I know I've talked with my friend about this before, but I'll try to express my approach to performance again, and maybe I'll say something differently this time, that will be helpful, or something will click... I know the performance thing is important to my friend, so it's worth the try, right? And perhaps something here will be helpful to others, and that can only be a good thing.
For performance I almost never go solo -- except when making a little speech in court or when teaching. The first time I ever came close to that was a talent show in junior high -- I was on stage singing, and a friend of mine was playing the piano next to the stage. It was a difficult piece for me, but the one that she was learning to play, so there we were. Part way through I lost track of where I was in the song and started to lose it -- the only thing that saved me was the Home Ec teacher, Ms. Morel, who was running the talent show. She was just standing there smiling and encouraging, and I took strength from her confidence in me to find the words and the place in the music where I could start the next verse and finish the song. I didn't win the show of course, but I got a heckuva lot of respect from other kids through the weeks following, and the rest of the school year was a lot easier on me because of it.
Speaking in class or in a small group I have gained more ease in, but speaking in court is still difficult. And I have a strong desire still to want to be able to sing for others, because I want to share my love of music (I'd also like to be able to dance in public comfortably, but I can only do that in company as well, not solo).
I fear singing in public, which makes it harder to produce music well (throat tightening, etc.). I approach it the same way I approached leaving Quodata (computer software company) years ago to try to find my true path, the same way I approach speaking in court or teaching, or anything else that means I have to put myself out in front of people. It's probably hardest with music because it affects me so strongly, but my desire to share what I love, so that others can share in how wonderful it is, is also very strong, and so I have to keep trying.
What I do and have done, is to repeat to myself that I have to have faith. Faith that things will work out. Faith that they'll see and feel things as I do. Faith that a connection will be made. Faith that this is the right thing to do.
It can be a fearful thing when instinct and training tell you that you should run away, that it can't work, that something terrible will happen. Faith seems like a small, weak, and helpless thing. There were many times right after I left Quodata that I was so uncertain of what was going to happen, that I would literally speak my mantra "Have Faith" more like "havefaithhavefaithhavefaithhavefaithhavefaith..." Eventually you realize that you have lived for another day, that you are in fact accomplishing things. It may be slower or less grand than you thought it would be, but it is also more manageable and less fear-instilling than you thought it would be. My mantra is ongoing still, and likely always will be, if more internally than before. This also helps to keep things more manageable and hopeful as well, because it reminds me of my connection to others, to the world, and to whatever forces are out there that have miraculously aided me in my chosen path in life.
I still sing primarily with a group of people, but it's a small group and every voice is needed, to create the whole. Which is a wonderful thing in and of itself. I can sing solo if I have to now; not as well as I might like, but I can do it. In Concentus sometimes we each have to take turns holding down a part singly as well, and that I'm able to do well, I think in part because I am doing it to support my friends, and I will do a lot for my friends, even sing alone on a part -- and it feels good to be able to provide that support too :)
Music and dance are both a celebration and intrinsic part of creation. To sing, play, or dance, to tell a story or poem from your heart, whether to express happiness, love, sorrow, humor, or anger, is to touch creation. And that is a joyful and awesome thing. These things all celebrate our connection and place within creation. That is why it is worth overcoming fear, so that we can share that celebration of life.
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Date: 2007-03-14 11:54 am (UTC)I bought this book: "Awakening Your Strongest Self" by Neil A. Fiore, Ph.D. (psych). I actually bought a book by him on overcoming procrastination and if I bought this one too, I got free shipping and a further discount so I thought, "Why not? I'd like to awaken my strongest self. Sure!"
As soon as I read the intro, I knew it was for me. He quotes Dune "The Sleeper must awaken!" LOL
I'm afraid of heights. And I don't mean huge heights. I used to work in the World Trade Center and I loved to stand in the windows of the 31st floor and look down. I knew I was safe so it was a thrill. No, I'm afraid of small heights, heights that won't kill me: ladders, climbing, stairs... I used to shake like a leaf as soon as I got both feet off the ground. I'd freeze. I couldn't go anywhere.
One day, I decided that this was stupid and irrational and I was going to overcome my fear. So I went for a hike along a path that had big boulders on it. Previously, I just took the long way around. But this time, I was determined. My X was with me and I trusted him to stand behind me and not let me fall. But as soon as I got both feet off the ground, I felt dizzy and like I couldn't breathe.
So I remembered "Dune": Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death. I will let it pass over me and through me. And when it is gone, I will still be here... (or similar)
In an instant, I clambered to the top of the boulder. It was only about 7' height, but I did it. The next year, I climbed a rock path on the Appalachian Trail. That one was 20-30' high. Wouldn't have done so well going down, but I went up like a champ.
Anyway... All this is to illustrate something that's in Dr. Fiore's book -- fear is your natural fight or flight response. It's part of the lizard brain. It's there to protect you. But in modern humans, it gets confused. It activates when we're confronted with something unpleasant. Have you ever gotten that panicked when you realised your math was off when you balanced your checkbook and an automatic payment is coming out before you have a chance to get to the bank? Or when your boss calls you into her office with "the Voice" and you know you're going to catch hell for something? Or when you get up to perform in front of an audience?
I'm no psychologist, but Dr. Fiore suggests that we "reeducate" the lizard brain -- tell it there's no reason for our fear. A fear of falling is a real threat to our health. A fear of bouncing a check? Not so much. Performing, of course you want to do your best, but your fear is keeping you from it. So what's the worse that can happen? Your voice could crack. You could be off-key. But the audience certainly won't eat you if that happens.
I have to turn off the lizard brain and take my business forward even though I'm afraid I'm not doing the right thing. Ultimately, it's mine. And so far, so good.
I love this metaphor: when you're standing on the top of a cliff, you don't know if your wing work until you jump off. So trust in your wings and leap!
Of course this does NOT apply to people who have deep-seeded fears, like PTSD, and need professional help. The process is the same, but it must be done under professional supervision for safety's sake.