Sing we merrily along...

I discovered something new this weekend.

Or, rather, I observed something new that I am now trying to understand.

Saturday night, my church's training school had our 2nd annual fundraiser: Anchor Rising, a coffeehouse and auction. It was a night of silent and live auctions, desserts and drinks, and live musical performances. Yours truly was one of said performances. One of the 20 minutes blocks was mine to fill.

Now here's the thing: I've never done anything quite like this before. I've played and sung in numerous musical group situations, and I've filled a 7 minute slot with reading poetry. But I've never filled 5 minutes, much less 20, with just my voice and fingers. So I was nervous. Excited for a new opportunity, but nervous, very nervous. When it was my turn, I took a deep breath, smoothed my skirts, and sang my five songs.

And here's where things get odd: I liked it. I almost didn't want to stop, wished I had more songs, more time, more...

I enjoyed it!

Where on earth did that come from? Now, maybe it helped that people were talking and eating and walking around, not paying full attention. Maybe it helped that I've been playing - albeit in a full band - in front of much larger crowds for the past nine months. Maybe it helped that I truly very much liked all the songs I was singing, and when singing them, poured myself into the music, caught up with it, just the same there as at home. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's that the music was such a part and expression of me that my heart is in it regardless of space or situation - the people just happen to be there, but don't really matter. Maybe it's tied to my growing enjoyment of reading poetry in front of people. Maybe...

Am I a performer? I've always, always, lived with and/or had good friends who were drama people. And have always, always, considered myself not one of them. But when you put music and I together, the combination produces unexpected results. I've always found music to be freeing somehow.

The thing is, for a while, I had no music. For three years (at least), in fact, I did not play or sing except rarely, never with others or near others. Music was taken away, removed, no longer a part of me. I had to find myself apart from it, no longer define myself according to it. Of course, the recognition of my response to it, how it affects me, remained and grew. But I did not make it.

Then I got it back. I was given permission to play again, then to sing, and then encouraged, and encouraged more. I find that I'm enjoying singing again! And my range is back - I'm a soprano again. I sing in the car, I sing in the kitchen, I hum under my breath even when I'm supposed to be quiet. And the music's been building in me this past year. I love it, and it loves me back.

But it's different than it was. I can't quite put my finger on the details, but it is to me a gift, not a right. It is something I take pleasure in, not something that I do because of course that's what I do (am)! It's different now - I'm not in choir, or steel band, or jazz band. But there's a sense in which what I have now is bigger than what I had before, and has more possibilities.

Who'd a-thunk that I'd like performing solo?

Who'd have guessed I ever would try it? And would ever want to do it again?

Not me.

Just goes to show how truly short-sighted I am.

I wonder what will happen next...