I couldn’t have known that the action I took on 1st March would be the start of a process of going into the depths of my psyche and facing everything that's been holding me back in life. I decided to sign up for an open mic night at a pub in Hove, where I live. This brought sharply into focus two animals - excitement and fear - both of whom I would get to know intimately (beyond anything I could have gained from a lifetime of reading books and watching videos), as I learned to dance and play with each over the coming weeks.
The longing and the calling
I listened and tuned into the excitement (aka ‘the longing’/’the calling’) which was the quieter of the two, initially at least. The concept of being on stage is something I've felt drawn to for a number of years - I have always enjoyed making people laugh and it had been suggested this is something I should try. This voice spoke with great clarity and presence:
- Do not (over)prepare - trust you have what to say already inside you, and that you will share what the audience needs to hear. Be alive to the present moment!
- You will not overcome all your fears in a week (or even in a month), how about embarking on a deeply personal experiment: commit to one open mic a week FOR A WHOLE YEAR? That way you will discover for yourself if it’s possible to fully break free from what’s holding you back, like a rocket ship eventually escaping the earth’s gravitational pull. Maybe the doubts will always remain, maybe they won’t?
- By doing this you will inspire others to follow their hearts and overcome their own fears (more about authenticity and coaching another time)
- Connected to the last point, video record every performance and share it publicly no matter what, and go beyond perceptions of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ and the opinion of others.
Feeding the calling, I started to feel a growing excitement and anticipation - like I was planting seeds in a garden which could - with the right and persistent care and attention - grow into something beautiful. Certainly I didn’t want to try and emulate (and then compare myself with) any other performer - the last thing I wanted to do was regurgitate anything that felt second hand, such as gags about in-laws. Instead I felt drawn to express from the heart my personal experience of life and emotions, to be truly vulnerable.
Fear and its familiar friends
‘Fear’ (the voice I have been all too familiar with) was being quiet (for now at least!), hiding in the shadows of the light I was bringing to the calling. Such an interesting creature - its cunning I am almost coming to admire and have respect for. It was biding its time, assembling and training its friends - doubt, self-criticism and wanting to quit. Quite a formidable opposition, one which knows me intimately and so waits patiently before presenting itself (at full volume) when I am at my weakest.
This has the potential for a fascinating experiment, using myself - my mind and all its thoughts, my body and all its sensations - as the subject. And fully experiencing the range of emotions (the highs and the lows), rather than an interested observer on the sidelines.
Monday 6th March (‘the debut’’) came around soon enough, with fear and its allies making such a strong appearance from the moment I woke up that I found it hard to focus. Not only was there a feeling of discomfort in my body, but this was accompanied by a lot of negative self-talk along the lines of ‘it (or even YOU) won’t be any good, no one will laugh, what’s the point? You may as well give up now’.
As a result of this barrage I fell into fear - and so wanted to (over)prepare. To counter this I went inwards, to offer reassurance to that part of me: ‘what’s the worst that can happen, you won’t die - or even suffer injury & some of the audience will be performing themselves and thus be compassionate. And to remind myself of the big ‘why’: to reconnect with the calling and to tend to that garden....and the other possibility: what if it (that night or the experiement overall) goes really well with treasure along the way?
What also helped was not to set expectations too high - to not rely on external validation, such as audience laughter/interaction or perceived enjoyment - people may not react positively for any number of reasons.
But to know that getting up there and being real for 10 minutes was enough.
The Debut
It went pretty well! The hours beforehand weren’t a lot of fun (I would become particularly fascinated with my thoughts and feelings the day of every open mic) but once I was up there I had a nice time for those 10 minutes, I was able to be fully present with (and connect to) the crowd and enjoy their engagement. A sense of pride was cultivated (‘I can’t believe I actually bloody did it….AND I survived to tell the tale!’). Also it was fascinating to note that, the moment I stepped up on stage, the nerves and the doubt fell away - I was fully present and in a state beyond the mind.
Until, that was, I woke up the following morning with what I later learned to be a ‘vulnerability hangover’. There was an unpleasant sensation in the body, my job was to then sit with that (which is where my years of meditation practice came in) and not allow thoughts and stories to start up - telling me it was rubbish and that I shouldn’t do it again. As with the hours leading up to a ‘performance’, the day after would be a really fascinating opportunity to observe my thoughts and feelings. It actually took some pressure off me to remind myself of my commitment to the process (which I had started to share with others - the value of accountability), so that the issue of wanting to quit shouldn’t be seriously entertained (which turned out harder in practice than in theory!).
Beyond performance
Also the word ‘performance’ was an interesting one, because I felt like much of my life up to this point had been a performance, a wearing of one mask or another to gain acceptance from others. What I wanted now was to be real and authentic, to let go of the role of the entertainer - and in a situation where it could perhaps be most expected.
Whenever my mind wants to jump on any perceived imperfection and blow it up out of all proportion, I need to remind myself that I’ve done my job - to get up in front of a room full of strangers, to be present and real & to share what’s alive in me at that moment (funny or not).
At the same time I do want the audience to benefit from my ten minutes so, whilst always including a healthy dose of self-compassion, I wouldn’t ever want to lose the opportunity to self-reflect or begin to flirt with the idea of perfection - there is always something to learn, always room for improvement.
Learning through not giving up
I am only seven ‘gigs’ in (I did 3 the other week, more of that another time) and so very much at the start of this journey. But the learnings are coming thick and fast already - that the biggest breakthroughs, for example, immediately follow the moments of greatest fear and resistance. When it felt like ‘fear’ mustered its strongest army, trying to get me to quit.
This does make sense actually, given that the subconscious mind sees change as a threat and so will do what it can to keep us safe, which can often be in conflict with our search for happiness and fulfilment. I felt great resistance for days leading up to number 4, for example, my mind was trying to get me to quit - coming up with a whole range of (seemingly valid) reasons. I felt such a high then coming off stage, having pushed on through and feeling I had really connected with the audience. I felt great, from being so open and sharing my vulnerabilities - and knowing that the audience could connect with my story: wanting to pursue the calling, despite the voice wanting to hold me back.
This hasn’t been an easy piece to write - and not, as one might expect, because it relates to sharing things that are deeply personal (or my search for perfectionism). Rather I notice my mind wanting to jump off on all sorts of tangents and share these - such as why I have adopted the stage name ‘Marrron’, why I wear fancy outfits, how fear (and other ‘negative’ emotions) are useful and can be our friends, the need for authenticity, for external validation (and what happens when it doesn’t come) and the power in taking inspired and repeated action.
But what I can not deny is the sense of joy, uplift and transformation this magical and intense process is giving me along with the other (uncomfortable) feelings.
I’ll leave it there for now (I have to prepare for gig number 8 tonight (8 in 5 weeks, I’m ahead of schedule!) but I look forward to sharing more of this fascinating journey as I go along. Landscapes both beautiful and scary are being discovered and experienced, and the train is travelling too fast to get off now.
