I've been a firm believer for a long time now that our individual talents and unique characteristics are to be celebrated. We should never be envious of the talents of others because if we let them, they can enrich and edify all of us. Much more difficult said than done for some people, that not envying part. Too many of us are taught to be competitive. Too many of us get the message early on that if someone else excels, it translates to our lack. And since it's not acceptable to be found "less than," then we must find a chink in the armor of the one who excels and "knock him (or her) down to our size" to make ourselves look better.
What a waste of energy in our brain cells to follow this line of thinking.
I sing. At least I used to. Like an athlete out of training, though, my voice isn't what it used to be just a couple of years ago. I'd like to think that if I again put in the appropriate training and practice, it'd be good once more. But I digress.
Seven years ago I performed in a talent show for the company I worked for at the time. In the audience were over 1200 people. Yikes! I'd never sung in front of that many live human bodies at once. But I had trained well, with a professional voice coach, for several months. She had assured me I was more than capable of this performance.
It wasn't the singing, per se, that had me nervous. It was the notes in the stratosphere I had to hit during the course of the song. The F above high C, in particular. Those operatic soprano notes done well yield goose bumps and tears of joy. And if you fall short? We've all cringed when those screeches hit our ears. I did not want to be witness to 1200 people cringing on my account. During preparatory voice lessons my coach had given me many secrets to loosen up to hit those notes.
And that was the key. Stay loose. Keep my throat open and jaw loose enough to let my diaphragm effortlessly push those notes up and out. Technical. That's all it was.
I have to admit I was nervous as a turkey just before Thanksgiving when I walked out on that stage. When I held the mike up to start singing, I had to grip it with both hands because they were each shaking so badly that I didn't trust one hand to keep it steady. The last thing I wanted to see was my spastic fingers flinging the microphone into the audience and knocking out some poor innocent. So I gripped with everything I had in me.
Then I started to sing.
The first few notes were a tad wobbly, but it was too late to back out. I knew this song, by golly! I'd practiced it hundreds of times and felt its message and power. I had the technique down, so I went on autopilot, loosened up, and just sang the emotion and heartbreaking story of the song.
And something magical happened. I opened my mouth but it was an angel's voice that came through the sound system. She took over my body and sang in my stead. Every single high note lilted from my lips with no effort. The music took the audience on a roller coaster of emotion and they gladly stayed until the end of the ride. A fraction of a second passed at the song's end, then they were on their feet---shouting, whistling, and applauding as if they couldn't smack their palms together hard enough.
The judges' panel consisted of four people from "home office," and a couple of well-respected doctors who also worked for our company. When the talent show was over, I tied for second place. Heck, I was happy with that--I was thrilled that I hadn't fainted! Honestly! But it turned out there were a number of people in the audience who were not happy and only too eager to share their opinions with me.
I didn't know most of these people, but they came up to me in droves not only at the "after party" that evening but also at breakfast the next morning. Many told me the performance was so beautiful that it brought them to tears. One large group even stopped me as I passed by their table with my plate from the breakfast buffet. They introduced themselves, told me how much they had enjoyed my performance, then proceeded to say that I had been robbed of my rightful First Place. I appreciated their comments but wanted to secretly chuckle at how indignant they were!
Another lady struck up a conversation with me while we were waiting in a restroom line, saw my special tag I'd been given for participating in the show, and asked me what it was. I explained to her I'd performed the night before. She hadn't attended, but asked me if I was the one who sang "the heart-wrenching song in opera." I laughed and responded that I was the guilty one. "Then you're the one they were talking about in the elevator." She went on to say that a group of folks in the elevator that morning was discussing the show from the night before and they were incensed that the "opera lady" hadn't won. "You must have been really good," she said, "because they were very angry the judges didn't award you first place."
All these many people (at least 150 to 200, maybe more) didn't have to share their feelings and opinions with me. But they were outraged enough they felt it important to let me know. Maybe there were more who felt the same but were uncomfortable voicing it. I'm sure there were many who felt the judging went as it should.
Like I said, I was happy that I hadn't fainted and was able to hit the high notes. I was beyond thrilled to hear so many people enjoyed the performance so much that they thought I was worthy of first place.
Which brings me back to my original sentiment of knocking others down when they "excel." I could have been angry and felt cheated that I didn't win. But I never felt that way for reasons already stated. Evidently, the two groups who tied for first place must have done something special in their performances that the judges felt warranted to give them the top honor. So who, in this case, really "excelled?" Who might have been "lacking?" Looking back on it all, it was okay for me to have been second banana in the eyes of six judges when the opinions of so many placed me in the top spot. I think I would have felt much worse if six judges had given me that honor when so many others viewed another as more deserving.
Interesting footnote to this little story....Although there had been others, that was the last talent show the company ever held.
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