I've been having some moments lately that give me clues, though;
1. My dear tall Friend is in the hospital recovering from cancer-related surgery. During my visit on Thursday, I observed the following:
- I suspect because he is Italian, we seem to have an unspoken understanding.... a way of communicating that is embedded in our DNA, I suppose: When I walked into his room, it seems we both fell into patterns that were at once foreign and familiar - the quick kiss and embrace, etc. It evoked memories of Nonno and the one we called 'Old Nonno'. When I thought about it later, I realized that in real life, we would never greet one another that way. But without all the trappings that establish stature and position, there was this beautiful moment of authenticity and unmasked love.
- It always amazes me how the wearing of a hospital gown and being poked with needles, reduces a person to a mere human body and its biological functions. Whenever I observe this, the child in me is shocked and afraid, while the adult is relieved (he's human! whew!).
2. During Friday's run, I hit a wall and had to walk for a while. That I got some friendly encouragement from one passing driver was already surprising and jolted me out of my reverie - and then a second car slowed down. A Dad-aged man in a Yankees sweatshirt shouted, "I'm not making fun of you, I see you all the time - I just want to ask you - why are you walking?" We laughed and he drove onward... a few seconds later he turned around and this time said, "I just want to say that I really admire your tenacity!"
As he disappeared, the dam broke and I shed tears I didn't know I had.
3. Yesterday I had a lesson with D., and DAMMIT if, in the process of my lesson, he doesn't always reveal what is truly on my heart. It stands to reason, since the voice and emotional life are one and the same... I suppose I just needed to sing in order to discover the state of things.
He was patient, as always, but observed a marked disconnect between my upper and lower bodies, and as my brain tried to clamor its way through the muck to settle on the right images for proper phonation, it was so very difficult to see my way through it clearly. We left with a promise that I'll come back on Monday and hope for a little more progress.
Moving on to the return to opera chorus last night, for the first time in 5 months: I was surprised at how many faces I was glad to see. These singer friends are gentle, they are kind. They touch, they kiss, they hug. They're transparent.
I had a tremendous cry on the way home, upon realizing that my experience in SB was largely UN-kind. I always make a deliberate effort to have no walls up when I sing, no defenses. I am me - vulnerable, genuine Angela. I believe this is what sets me apart. And I never, during those 6 weeks, put up my defenses. I don't even know how to sing with them up anymore.
The problem is, it opens me up for hurt beyond hurt when I am critiqued and picked apart and given suggestion after suggestion.
It is one thing to prepare oneself for - and to recover from - a short period of this, whether it's an hour's worth of coaching, a 5-minute audition, a voice lesson, or a typical rehearsal/performance period.
6 weeks' worth of that kind of nit-picking and hence paranoia and tension on my part, has left me feeling raw, naked and exposed to extreme weather, no armor against the wind.
Which makes me more terrified than I should be, of having to sing a big audition on Wednesday. I am just not ready.
The slightest kindness moves me to weep.
I'd say this is all a sign that I am still ME, and that this is a good thing. At this point, on Sunday morning, I think that the best thing to do is to embrace my need for love and kindness - immerse myself in it, relish it. Cry if I have to. And somehow, I will just need to sing from that place - and perhaps, that's the best place from which to sing.
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