This or Something Better

So, it seems the consensus is that 2015 was a tough year.   Almost everyone I talk to has mentioned personal struggles in business or health or family, growing fear about the current state of the world, global warming, finances, and the list goes on.  

I have to admit that it was a tough year for me, too.  In fact if I’m being completely honest, last year could be filed in the category of ‘glad that’s over’.

 I had big expectations, dreams and intentions going into 2015 that just never emerged in the way I envisioned, the most obvious being “The Lullabye Project” album - I was supposed to have recorded it in May last year.  

http://www.icadenza.com/recording-an-album-4-life-changing-lessons-ive-learned-so-far/

In truth, as I was going through it I felt like a complete and utter failure - it was so hard to let go of what I thought that experience was supposed to look like.  I watched years of my hard work, professional relationships, and plans fall apart; so instead of forcing something to happen, I decided the best thing to do was to rebuild my network of support and go back to the drawing board.

That definitely sounds much easier than it actually was to do.  I worked hard to reframe my expectations and let go of any judgments I had about ‘success’ and ‘failure’.

Here are 2 new skills I developed so I could keep myself moving in a positive direction throughout the last year.

 1.  The practice of Trusting What Is -

 This is a skill that is easier to practice in hindsight, but I discovered it is a wonderful asset if used while going through challenging times.  I’m better at it now, but it’s still tough to practice in the moment.

 I started 2015 knowing that I wanted to record an album and for various reasons, I haven’t completed that goal yet.  

 I had so many emotions as I experienced what I judged as failure.  I was overwhelmed by everything I went through and also the things I still wanted to do. I was so far out of my comfort zone that I had a hard time remembering if I had one.

 I felt beaten and disconnected along the way.  I had to face the fact that I was much further from success than I wanted to be – in reality, so far from achieving my original intention that I thought I might never reach my ideal.  I struggled against the urge to curl up and shut down.

 Nothing was what I expected it to be and I went through a period of grief and mourning over the loss of realizing those expectations.

 I was moved to deeply explore my purpose as an artist.  

  As a result, I started to trust “What Is”.  I stopped attaching personal meaning to circumstances affecting me that were beyond my control. I simply had to trust that everything was happening for my greatest benefit even though it wasn’t what I wanted in that moment.  Without that practice of trust, it felt like failure and I couldn’t accomplish anything while I was feeling that way.

 This new practice allowed me some emotional distance from a difficult situation and offered a little bit of breathing room when things didn’t line up the way I hoped.  So when I was disappointed it was easier for me to get back up and keep myself moving forward.

  2.  The Power of Self-Forgiveness -

 The practice of self-forgiveness has been a powerful one in changing my inner dialogue.

 I had a bad habit of being hypercritical of myself.  Unchecked inward self-criticism often came out of me and into the outside world in ways that I didn’t intend.

 Over the years I developed an inner dialogue, like a self-monitoring voice that judged my actions.  I’m sure it was originally designed to keep me in line, following perceived ‘rules’ that I learned from childhood into adulthood; and at some point in my life this personal guide was very helpful for me, but I was shocked to discover my inner voice was no longer helpful or supportive of me.  

 For example, the simple act of leaving a voicemail was a struggle for me. I endlessly self edited my message, even if it was only for a good friend.  I judged the way I constructed sentences.  I even critiqued the tone of my voice.  Each attempt to leave a message brought another harsh self-judgment and the need to re-record one more time. You would laugh if I told you how long it took to leave one single perfect voicemail message.

 This type of behavior was consistent in every area of my life: singing, social encounters, work, personal and professional relationships… I was constantly telling myself I wasn’t good enough or worthy enough in every situation and it felt terrible; that feeling ate away at my confidence.

 I’m reminded of a saying someone told me a long time ago in reference to abusive behavior: ‘If you hear it enough you begin to believe it, even if it isn’t true.’

 I decided I wanted to change the way I talked to myself.  But where should I start? My pattern of thinking seemed so permanent I didn’t know what I could do to stop it.

 First, I started to become more aware of what I was saying to myself through a regular meditation practice (10 minutes a day) and free form writing.  Those 2 new habits gave me a solid platform to start consciously changing my inner dialogue.

 The next thing I did was the key to changing my behavior: as soon as I became aware that I was falling into a pattern of negative self-talk I began to forgive myself.  

 So now as soon as I catch myself obsessing about something that I’ve done, said, or thought, I quiet my mind and say this silently, “I forgive myself for judging (myself or other person) as (insert judgement).”  

 I don’t know if this sounds weird or crazy, but I can tell you that this simple practice made a huge difference in boosting my self-confidence.  And I need all the self-confidence I can get, especially as I continue on this big, beautiful journey.

 Onward and upward

 When I look at my hard work, my level of commitment in spite of feeling down, and what I accomplished last year, I am proud of everything I’ve done.  

 As tough as 2015 was, I am respectful of the big challenges, losses, difficult situations, and successes.  My 2016 won’t be better than last year unless I make them into more meaningful experiences.

 I kept saying to myself last year that I would start blogging when I felt successful. But I never reached the level of success I thought I should have.  I realized if I wait for that to happen I’ll probably never end up writing anything at all.

 Here is my incomplete disclaimer: I’m not perfect.  I don’t know what I’m doing yet, and I don’t expect to know anytime soon.  I’m not sure I ever really know what I’m talking about.  I have no idea how to do this ‘blogging’ thing well.  

 I am doing this with a pure heart.  I know exactly what these experiences mean to me.  I want to inspire, connect with, and (maybe) entertain you as I learn and grow and practice new skills.

 Please join me on this adventure and share your crazy adventure with me too.  I have a hunch that our paths might have more similarities than you think.

A long overdue and brief update, here it is:

I have been on a roller coaster of an adventure since I started singing again one year ago after a LONG hiatus away from performing.  

Initially, my intention was simply to record an album of Lullabies.  The result of such a simple start was a journey I never expected.

Here are the 2 most important things I wanted to share in this moment:

I will be recording and performing my Lullabye Project in 2016.* 

My journey is bigger than recording this album.

I will be blogging about the many adventures and learnings I’ve had along the way.  There is much more to come and I am looking forward to sharing it with you.

There should be a book out there.  Actually, there are probably lots of books out there.  I did not read any.  It is probably recommended to do some preliminary research on the subject, but that isn't how I roll.  I started this process with the simple idea of recording one single song, and the album blossomed from there.

The first thing I did was to secure funding for the project.  I knew I would need a significant amount to allow for multiple salon performances leading up to the recording, new headshots, and many, many sessions with my coaches and accompanists - especially since I was coming back from a major hiatus of more than a year after having my second child.  I decided to work with a producer. The recording must be mixed and mastered - whatever that means.  I have to pay my accompanist for the days during recording.  I need to record somewhere that will most likely cost money.  And then once it is finally recorded, I need to launch/market it.  That will cost money.

I was overwhelmed.  I am overwhelmed.

So overwhelmed that I did not educate myself or do any comparative pricing before throwing myself into this.  I am learning as I go.  One step at a time is manageable.  

I spent the first six months doing what I needed to do in order to be physically and emotionally prepared to record each of these Lullabies in 1-3 takes over the course of 2 days.  

Now after deciding to part ways with my producer, I am spending more time assembling the right team of professionals needed to bring out the nuances of these pieces to create a beautiful, cohesive album that speaks for itself.

Step #1:  Take a hard look at what I am doing and how I am doing it.  Does the budget make sense for what I am trying to accomplish?  What are the industry standards for the cost of mixing and mastering?  What exactly is mixing and mastering?  Does it matter if the sound engineer has recorded classical music or not?  Should I record in a studio or a hall?

Step #2:  Gather information from my network.  Is there anyone who has done this before and would they be willing to guide me?  Do I have any contacts who can connect me with high quality, experienced professionals in the music industry?

Step #3:  Continue to deepen my connection with these lullabies in a way that will translate through a recording.  Practice every day.  Meet with my accompanist every week.

Step #4:  Uncover more steps.  Keep learning and enjoy the tremendous growth I have been experiencing throughout this process. 

I love this journey.

The act of giving birth to a living thing is difficult.  It requires labor.  Often, it is not pretty.

I have given birth to 2 children.  So I feel qualified to comment on this subject of ‘birth’.

There is nothing I have experienced so far in my life as intense as childbirth, and I have learned from it.  In many ways, it has given me insight into my work and life in a broader sense.  In other ways, the changes I have incurred from it both physically and emotionally have pushed me to grow in areas I would never have asked of myself otherwise.

It is an understatement to merely qualify the changes a female body goes through to bear a child with a flippant phrase like, ‘your body will be different’.  

Shifting organs and weight gain which accommodate new life make it difficult to rediscover breath support and retrain a newly flaccid post-natal diaphragm.  I realized how much I had taken for granted my ability to sing long musical phrases.

Hormones have an impact on what the voice sounds like.  If you are not a professional vocalist, you might not have the same awareness of the changes.  But after my second child I could not enjoy the new colors I heard, to me it felt and sounded completely different; I judged it harshly as I longed for the return of the voice I knew before pregnancy.

I am going through labor a third time to give birth to this “Lullabye Project”.  Pushing through my emotions, giving up any resistance to the changes in my body, my life, my voice, bracing myself for the various levels of intense discomfort and exhaustion experienced as this powerful process of creation wreaks havoc on my sense of ‘normal’.  I find I have the same feeling of resignation in knowing this labor is the work that needs to be done in order to create a new life.

I have always found the final product of birth to be rewarding in some beautiful way, no matter how unanticipated or unexpected it may appear.  Although I am eager to finally witness my creation, I am finding great satisfaction and joy in this process.  I would like it to continue.

I began The Lullabye Project last fall.  

I hadn’t been singing for well over a year.  After the birth of my second child, my body felt like a foreign entity.  I was exhausted, hormonal, and emotional.  Singing was a distant, fondly remembered dream.

So when I finally made the decision to move forward with this project, it took a herculean effort to get myself into performance shape again.  The thought of recording an album was ridiculous without first performing in front of people.  So I had to create my own performance opportunities.  The answer came to me: Salons.  I would sing Lullabies to people in their living rooms.  Who wouldn’t love that?  And there had to be lots of homes nearby with pianos just begging to be played.  Right?  

With the help of my coach, the first salon was booked.  And then after months of gentle inquiry and persistence, my neighbors agreed to host the second salon.  

During the search for venues, I met a woman who was interested in hosting.  After meeting with her several times and viewing the venue, it became evident that it would not be ideal for the time frame in which I was working.  

During one of the conversations I had with her, I remember talking at great length about the depth of what I was attempting to communicate to her audience.  I was elaborating on the different ways I could convey the wonders of my own journey and my desire to give that to everyone who listened.  At one point she stopped and said to me, ‘you are enough’.

In that moment, I became aware of myself and my desire to control everyone else’s experience while I was singing.  And that was not my intention.

My intention is to open a channel that allows my audience to have their own beautiful, robust journey.  To facilitate the delivery of each unique message that is being sent from the universe to every listener who is ready to receive it.

I realized that she facilitated that experience for me in that brief, but powerful statement.  

I have everything I need, right now.  I can move people, if only by having my own extraordinary journey.

My life changed, dramatically... and many times in the last 5 years if I’m going to categorize in such a general sense.  I became a mother twice over, and for the last 6 months I have been developing a project which continues to slowly reveal itself as I step more confidently along my new path.  

Having children has inspired me to do many things I would never have done without them.  Among the most powerful messages for me throughout this experience has been to follow my dreams as an example for them.  I do not want to unconsciously steer them toward following any dreams I left on the table.  I want them to have their own powerful, creative, and unique dreams and I want to show them it is very possible to make a reality of their dreams through my example.

So after great thought and planning during the fall of 2014, I decided to pursue the idea of producing an album.  I came up with the idea of doing an album of Lullabies; it seemed an appropriate choice after getting to know these 2 small beings who inspire me.  

It was a more difficult challenge than I anticipated, corralling the songs.  Especially after seeing endless lists of lullabies written by every single artist you could possibly imagine.  The search also gave me confidence that this was a worthy endeavour since there was no pre-made collection of the lullabies I wanted to feature.  Finally I had a complete song set list by mid-March, 2015 and a title for the album, “The Lullabye Project”.

As I was putting together this list, I realized lullabies really aren’t for children at all.  These songs were more about the adult world than of anything a child would be aware.  

I started reliving memories of musical experiences with my own parents in my childhood as I connected with each piece:  

Remembering giggling and squealing with delight while listening to Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony No. 6; my father pretending to throw imaginary lightening bolts at me and my brother, with him standing as the greek god Zeus in our living room in Mechanicville, NY.  

Falling asleep to Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony in the cool, late summer evening on the SPAC lawn in Saratoga, NY.  The memory was so powerful I could smell the grass, see the lightening bugs, and feel the cool touch of the sleeping bag on my cheek.  As a child I lay there, drifting between awake and asleep taking in each pizzicato note of the second movement.

These memories are awakening something that I had put to rest.