Here I am

It is a little hard to get spiritual about a karaoke experience.  And yet, here I am.

After a twelve hour work day and particularly pressured work week, in a lovely mixed up wind and sideways rain, I walked with a few friends from dinner at a corner restaurant to the historic National Bar in downtown Nevada City. Friday night. Karaoke night.

Though I have always been terrified of unnecessary attention – and more accurately, of exposing my over-ample inadequacies…. Despite my entirely undeveloped singing voice and highly strung nervous system…

I walked up to the small cocktail table, wrote my name and chosen song on a small piece of paper, and placed it in the jar. I thought that perhaps it was a good omen that my name-sake song, Brandy, was playing as I walked back to our low table. Even as I tried to hum along, I realized my voice was seizing in trepidation.

Breathe. Take a sip of water. My sweet friend looked at me and said, “Look around. No one here cares. If you hate it, drop the mic, and I’ll be right behind you walking out the door.” This helped a little.

Just two songs later, the tired, or perhaps bored, DJ called my name. As soon as I reached the microphone, I wrapped one arm across my body as if it were my old worn out blue security sweater from pre-school.  If I could have hidden behind myself, I would have.

The first few bars of “Here I am,” began to play – a classic country love ballad by Patty Loveless and the only song I know entirely by heart.

Don't do it darlin'

Don't you dare look in there

You said you didn't want to see me

But you've been lookin' for me everywhere

I think I can safely share that I was a little awful. Perhaps even a lot awful. My voice cracked more than once.

And you know that you're gonna find me

If you keep on drinkin' fast

'Cause honey, I'm right there waitin' on you

At the bottom of your glass

Here I am, here I am…

I believe I actually saw the DJ give a shrug to the audience as if to say, sorry, I have no control over this.

When the song finally ended, I walked back to our table and felt overwhelmed by the desire to cry. I wasn’t glorious. I might have made people cringe. 

And yet, it was OK. It was strangely WONDERFUL.

Some hours later, I’m only delighted with myself for doing something I was so deeply afraid of. Like traveling alone. Like making good but hard decisions. Like letting go of someone for the right reasons. I did it only for myself and for the simple reason that I have always wondered how it would feel.

There is a touching scene from the last Karate Kid movie that often comes to mind when I am trending towards fear. At the end of the movie our slight young hero has been injured in a tournament by a cheap shot to the legs. The doctor is explaining that he can’t go back in. Our hero is equally panicked and defiant about the prospect of having to quit. His instructor, Mr. Han, says, “You've already accomplished everything you wanted to. Why do you still want to fight?”

His answer -- “Because win or lose… I don't want to be afraid any more. And I'm still afraid.”

How amazing to find a place within your heart that allows for failure for the sheer purpose of gaining a foothold over fear. All I have ever hoped for was to love without fear – to live without fear. And here I am.

Recently I met a woman who is dying of cancer at too young an age. Her words continue to pulse:

“Don’t talk about it, don’t write about it, don’t think about it.  LIVE IT. Live in grace. Life is short. Be grateful.”

And so tonight, I honor these words of a brave and amazing woman who will soon not be with us. I honor Patty Loveless and her beautiful song. And I honor the part of me that is just beginning to try and fail. To try and succeed. To try. And try. And try again.

Here I am.