Sunday morning, March 1st, I sang a medley of traditional Negro Spirituals for two of our three morning services at church where we attend.
"Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen"
"Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child"
"Steal Away"
I love singing, and I'm comfortable in front of large crowds. But not at the same time.
Saturday nite/Sunday morning I tossed and turned in bed….going over and over the song in my mind. The arrangement was spot-on for the range my baritone voice likes. I'd been working with a voice coach for 3 weeks on the piece. I've given sermons at this church. I've been singing in choirs, choruses, and doing solos all my life. I'm a regular reader of scripture for these services. I know these people.
But singing is different.
Nonetheless, there I was knees knocking, raising my voice as best I knew how…and you know what?
I think I nailed it!
I'd like to tell myself I'm never going to put myself through this again. My weekends are too precious to waste on such angst.
But the truth of the matter is I stretched myself to move outside my comfort zone, and I'm blessed by it. Such isn't always the case. Failure is a distinct possibility.
Even with failure, though, there's progress.
Boy, I'm out on an existential limb, here, so there's no stopping me now… S'OK…I'm almost done waxing eloquent.
The point I'm trying to make is humans are built for challenge…hardship…even failure. It's how we get better.
Push yourself into the discomfort of provocation.
It works.
CourVO
