What is calling you?
What are you waiting for?
How many years will pass you by?
…Fifteen years ago, I was working in musical theatre, auditioning, performing, singing, dancing, and teaching.
And then I stopped.
I buckled down to pay the bills with an office job; I went back to school.
The years flew by, and one day I realized that my musical life was stored in a large heavy box, lodged behind stacks of other heavy boxes in the darkest corner of our basement.
And those Minimalists would tell me that, if I hadn’t opened the box in the last fifteen years, it was time to chuck that box into a dumpster.
Then, a few weeks ago, just beneath the duct tape stretched across the cardboard flaps labeled “my musical heart,” the box cracked open, beaming one small pinpoint of light.
A choir festival…
The invitation reminded me of my choir festivals from high school. There would be three days of intense rehearsal and then a concert on the fourth day.
A summer choir festival! It sounded like the perfect opportunity to see how I liked singing with a choir again—a short commitment, and, here was the key: no audition required.
I signed up.
And then I agonized over my decision.
My brain protested and thought of every reason why it was a bad idea: It was a full-weekend commitment, I wasn’t sure I remembered how to read music or harmonize, I wasn’t sure I even liked choir music, and, oh yeah—it had been fifteen long years since I had sung in public.
I had to talk myself through dread and anxiety right through the drive to the first rehearsal, walking into the building, and putting on my name tag.
I was barely coordinated enough to pry open the metal tab on my mustard-yellow packet of music—but whether or not I was ready, here I was.
The conductor got right down to business. We warmed up and quickly transitioned to learning our first piece of music.
…When I am nervous, my voice gets stuck in my throat and comes out as a muted squeak. I had to breathe deep and stay focused on the conductor and blending in with the people around me.
Luckily, my fellow altos were friendly and kind. Most of them had sung with the group before.
After the first rehearsal, I still wasn’t convinced that singing with a choir was the solution to my vocal nerves and distress. It was only my determination to meet my commitments that made me return for the second rehearsal.
And then…on the third day, my heart opened. I knew I had made the right decision.
It was the sound of rehearsal (my favorite sound!)—the sound of people singing, blending, and supporting each other—
It was the sound of the language of music—like traveling back to my homeland and reconnecting with family…familiar and heartwarming—
Eighth notes, quarter notes, and a sixteenth—
It took me three days to acknowledge that music is not only good for my soul, it is critical for my soul’s survival.
…The fourth day wasn’t any easier, though. It was Concert Day, and my hands were so sweaty, I spent most of my energy trying not to drop my binder…but I sang. I had learned the music better than I had expected. I harmonized, and I blended. For the first time in years, I felt part of something beautiful and transcendent.
…If there is something in your life that you want to try for the first time or try again, I encourage you to take the small step.
Push past the fear and dread—
Listen to the voice in your heart and give it light.
It is never too late.