as a boy of about 11-12, i played in a recital sponsored by my piano teacher. the piece had to be memorized, which i had accomplished fairly quickly. it was difficult sitting at the recital listening to others play because my piece was running through my mind.... i could see my fingers hit the notes, my foot press the pedal, and the notes flowing on the page. i was ready!!
and then i heard my name!
i sat down at the piano, picturing the people sitting in the room. my hands were shaking and i could feel the beginnings of a sweat river. i took a deep breath and started. much to my amazement, i relaxed a bit as i began the piece. but a one point, my mind went blank. i could not remember the next line... not even the next note. i sat frozen until my piano teacher asked me to begin the piece again. oh my god, not again! but i complied. if you would have placed your ten dollars one me succeeding the second time, you would have lost. at the very same place in the music, i went blank. the room was silent. way too silent. i felt the tears aching to get out, so in desperation, i ran out of the room... out of the building... into the car... and sobbed. i was humiliated.
when i was a junior in high school, i was part of a city-wide nazarene teen choir. we practiced every sunday afternoon for months to prepare for our 10-day tour in june. every night we held a concert, had dinner at the church, and stayed in the home of one of the church members. we even spent a day in new york city. it was so much fun.
people were chosen for vocal solos and groups and for instrumental solos, including a piano solo by moi. i was scheduled to play at our last stop in portsmouth, ohio for their sunday evening service. we arrived for dinner and then spent some time warming up and to getting dressed. the guys wore red shirts and blue slacks. after a week of touring, you could imagine the amount of deodorant sprayed on those shirts that evening. the gals wore blue and white dresses made of linen-like material which probably had to be ironed one more time.
a few minutes before the concert, i approached the choir director, asking... no, begging her to replace me with another piano soloist. i was shaking, in tears, and ready to run out the building. in a kind but firm voice, she told me that i was scheduled and that i would play. she was counting on me! it was another 'oh my god!' moment. the tears welled up as i felt the sweat start to flow... again. it was happening... again. honestly, i felt trapped.
as you might imagine, the first half of the concert was a blank for me. my entire concentration was on my solo, which was to played during the 'intermission'. and before i knew it, the time had come. the rest of the choir left the auditorium and i took my place at the piano, hands shaking and eyes fixed on my music. the momentary pause was at least 90 minutes, and then i began to play. to my surprise, the music flowed. and flowed. and then, i was finished. the applause was overwhelming... i choked back the tears, tears of relief and pride. i actually did it, and did it well!
i still wonder what would have happened if the choir director had excused me from playing. what would the result have been if she allowed the fear to control me? i don't know, but i am grateful that julie slonacker helped me face my fear.
in both cases, i feared the judgment of the audience. i just knew they were waiting with a pad and pencil to check-off every mistake that i would make. and i knew they would talk about my poor performances repeatedly and forever. i knew it furshur!
i can laugh about these events now because i know that the biggest (and maybe the only) critic was the guy sitting on my shoulder telling me how bad i was going to play. that same guy who mocked me in the car after i ran out of the building. i can laugh because, for the most part, i have learned to send that guy running from the room so that i can enjoy and appreciate my talent. i can make mistakes now and i really don't give a damn. i just play on....
thank you to all the julie's in my life who have helped me face my fears. and i thank myself for not allowing that guy on my shoulder to control my life. he hasn't disappeared, but he knows he is not welcome.
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