How Do You Show Up, Let Go and Make Art – For Good?

Honoring my intention that shipped trumps perfect, I put the post I wrote yesterday in today’s queue. Before tackling my newsletter, though, I dropped by Facebook, just for a minute. It was my best detour in ages.

When Sarah Horn went to the Hollywood Bowl the other night, she had no clue she’d end up on stage, bringing down the house as she sang a duet with the headliner, Broadway star Kristin Chenoweth. Sarah has the talent and the skills. Her voice is warm, rich and full, her stage presence is delightful and, since she’s a voice teacher, it’s a small leap to imagine she’s mighty close to the 10,000 hours of practice needed to achieve mastery of her craft. I don’t think that’s all that led her to sing that duet like a true artist, though.

She showed up. When Chenoweth came into the audience and asked the woman in front of her whether she knew “For  Good,” Sarah stood up, waved her arms and said, “I know the song.”

She let go. Sarah’s trip to the stage didn’t happen right away. Chenoweth walked away, bantering with someone else in the audience before turning back and inviting her onstage. She almost fell on her way up the stair, but she didn’t let fear – or adrenaline-induced clumsiness – stop her.

She made art. When it was her turn to sing, Sarah Horn didn’t just become the character in the song, she became the music. I was not singing for the crowd as a performer usually does but was singing FOR them, in place of them. I was them and they were me. I was up there doing what every single person in that audience wished they could do. I cannot remember another time where I felt more connected to a body of people and at peace with where I was and what I was doing in a single moment. In that moment, Sarah Horn shared a lesson. I learned from it, and you can, too, even if haven’t sung along with the soundtrack to Wicked at the top of your lungs in the car every day on the way to work for two years or didn’t name your pet rabbit Elphaba.

For Good Sarah showed up fully, sharing her skills, talents, and values. (Those values are clear in the intentions she set years before her recent performance. Since she writes about them better then I ever could, I’ll let you read about them in her words.) She let go by standing up and saying, “I know the song,” and then not backing out when the opportunity truly became hers. She made art by trusting not just herself, but everything – Kristen Chenoweth, the orchestra, the lighting and sound technicians, whatever coincidence or higher power put her in that place at that time. By showing up, letting go and making art the other night, Sarah Horn may well have changed her life. I suspect she changed others’, too. I know she changed mine. For good.

Source: Florence Moyer

No Comments

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.