Yesterday was the kind of ridiculous marathon I run when trying to consolidate trips into SF, so it began with a very necessary stop-by with D., in preparation for my chorus audition (yes, I auditioned, as insurance), followed by a session with S., and ending with a very long, late night Otello performance.
While my session with S. was invigorating and helpful - since she, among the voices offering me guidance, is the one who is most immersed in the realities of the modern-day biz - the standout event was my chorus audition.
'Caro nome' begins on what D. calls my Note #9. It is the note that begins the area of my voice where all sense of physical feeling begins to leave as I descend through the passaggio - and if I don't have a good solid connection with Notes 1-8 (my vocal Identity), I never really feel very grounded within myself, no matter what happens during the rest of the performance.
Having said all that, I finally had the objectivity today to realize the difference between my Houston audition (yippeeee! I love to sing!), and the two auditions this week (what the f*** was that?) - the difference is that for the Houston one, I took 10 minutes to gather myself and check in with my Scale. For the other two, I let many distractions throw me off during those crucial 10 minutes beforehand, and then walked right in, midstream.
I'm so glad I figured out what went (minorly and minutely) wrong this week. I was beginning to feel depressed, and worried that I was going off my game.
Moral of the Story: take 10 minutes to gather, even if it's in a bathroom stall at Nola Studios.
Today's travels: it's amazing to go from St. Stephen, to D's house. To be in D's presence is to remember the Singer part of myself, the part that is an artist with something to say, the part who has no inhibitions, no taboos, no "that doesn't belong here"-isms. Also the part that never has to apologize for being beautiful, gifted, or "too much" of anything. It makes me realize how dramatically I dampen and tone myself down in order to be (nickname given by a friend) Church Girl.
Yet, Church Girl felt a strange isolation and sadness today, when I looked out at the 30 kids singing back to me, and the faces of the friends who treat me with great love and respect there - wondering if I will have to make a choice this year, wondering how much it might hurt and frighten everyone, including myself, to say goodbye to an old life.
Then the Boss broke the spell during the second mass, apparently trying to win an award for Most Distracted and Cranky Celebrant of the Year - and I was able to come back to my senses and remember that the Liturgy Committee will forget to light the correct candles, that the Boss will always give the most attention to the richest parishioners, that there is a limit to the spiritual awareness of old-timers who have sat in the same pew for 50 years, and that I, being young and still in expansion, don't belong there, and am not meant to stay.
I suppose this tells me that whether I do, or do not, get accepted into a year-long Young Artist Program for next year, there will be a bittersweet quality to it - and that either way, I hope I remember to grant myself time to accept what is, and focus on the positive.
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