Category: Things that make life better (Page 3 of 10)

Why Crappy People Work — How to Make Your Musical Theatre Auditions and Creative Life Successful

July 26, 2023 / dancallaway

I’m going to tell you the reasons folks you think are demonstrably average seem to work all the time.

And I’m also going to tell you how this information will make your auditions and overall creative expression more successful.

One time I was doing a show, and one of the leads was offensively average. Company members noticed. Crew noticed. I definitely noticed.

Management were delighted with them.

To seal the deal, this artist spoke matter of factly about their inherent belonging in the principal player echelons. (I think this was more of an anxiety thing than arrogance to be fair.)

I was an ensemble member, and (funny enough after just criticizing what this person said out loud), I thought I should be playing a principal role, too.

I worked with an acting coach at the time who saw the show, and I’ll never forget what she said:

“They stood for their work.”

What do you mean? They stood for their work?

It meant this:

They weren’t asking for anybody’s permission; they owned their performance, and there wasn’t any whiff of a question in the air whether or not they should be wearing those costumes and singing those songs.

Dammit.

This lights up a major lie that performers tell themselves. Wreaks havoc in general life, too: The Just World Belief.

Good things mean good outcomes. Bad = bad. And the world should be fair.

Extensive studies on both combat veterans and abuse survivors show that holding to this belief increases and prolongs PTSD symptoms.

Now please think about one actor acquaintance who carries this just world belief into every audition room.

Every table of deciders now holds the weight of universal justice in their hands, and with every heartbreaking opportunity, more evidence piles up with how unfair the world is.

The truth is — auditioning is not (and can’t) be a meritocracy. It’s decided by humans, and we are notoriously fickle. And it’s not a fair process.

I remember not booking a tour of Les Miserables and crying on my therapist’s couch because it was a dream of mine,

so I was sad.

But there was also a part of me that believed it should be my turn, and I deserved to get picked.

My advice — question this belief.

And notice the things in your life that work out well, when the odds skew ever in your favor.

We get so focused on how life has slighted us, we forget to notice that we can see, hear, walk, and have food to eat.

Dang, I still remember the time a cop just let me go in North Hollywood for talking on my Blackberry without a hands free contraption. She even said, “I don’t know why I’m doing this. These phones make me so mad.”

The next reason for all this audition mayhem is a very human thing that no one’s ever going to change — Middle School.

I’ll explain.

You’ve written a play, and you need folks. Who do you think of first? Your friends, people you KNOW.

If you have to look outside your familiar circle for roles or production support, what do you do? You ask your friends if they know somebody.

What are you looking for?

Someone who’s competent, kind, detail oriented and lives for stage management.

Can you imagine if you were interviewing a company manager, and the candidate said:

?? Can you give me a chance to solve your problem? I mean, I don’t know how I’ll solve it, but just pick me?

? Problem? I don’t see a problem here. And I’m amazing, so yeah, here I am. (Sits back and puts shod feet on desk.)

? Hey there. I get it — I see your problem. I’ve solved a lot of these before, and here’s how I can help you solve yours.

Who are you gonna sling a contract at that second and pray they’re available?

Yet actors often bring in versions 1 and 2 into rooms and then get frustrated that their results are crap.

It’s human to want people to pick you for stuff. We want to be chosen. It’s a natural and good desire. When my wife puts her hand on my back and says, “I love you,” I mean, that’s the stuff.

But if we’re talking about getting picked for shows, you need do 1 of 2 things:

Create positive emotional associations to yourself,

pick yourself.

Then create positive emotional associations to yourself. Because no matter how much you pick yourself, if you’re an asshole, no one will want to be in the trenches with you.

If this feels middle school, it’s because it is — because guess what middle schools are full of? People, just younger with under-developed prefrontal cortices.

This bears out in many rehearsal halls, too.

So what can you DO about this? How can you make your auditions and creative life more successful?

First, we are going to define a successful audition:

A successful audition means you prepare well, share the work with artistry, skill, and an open heart, and accomplish the goal you set for yourself in that meeting. It’s a clear preview of how you’d solve a casting problem, and it’s also a glimpse into the straightforward joy it will be to work with you.

That’s it. There’s no outcome component. You’re not going to get the job. Most of the jobs, we don’t get, so dispose of the lie that you have any direct control whatsoever over manipulating a casting decider into picking you.

For more on this, and to really set yourself free, read Audition Psych 101 by Michael Kostroff.

So, to have this successful audition, do this:

Number one, the folks you’re pissed about? Stop paying attention to them. They have nothing to do with you except what you can learn from them.

Number 2, this one’s real simple, but people discount it because it’s not shiny enough.

PREPARE THE SHIT OUT OF IT — and I mean prepare the shit out of it. This means that although you are holding your papers, you’re off book. You have your pitches, rhythms and lyrics in your body because you’ve taken the time to do it.

You understand this person you’re being on a cellular, empathetic, and experiential level.

Confidence only comes from competence, and that comes from your current skill level plus PREP.

And put yourself in the table people’s shoes — how do you feel when the person comes in PREPPED and READY? Exactly — good.

And go ahead and let this boost your ego. If you know you work harder than other folks, let that fuel you. Know that it will pay off because it has to in some way.

The same way that you don’t look for completely fair and equal measures based on your input and output, you can also know that there’s still cause-and-effect in the world.

If you put in the work, if you give away incredible work in the audition room, you’re going to get results. It can only have a compound interest.

If you go in and share fantastic skill with someone who makes casting decisions, and that particular project isn’t a fit for you, you’ve built up artistic goodwill with that decider. It’s just human that they’ll want to pay you back for your investment with them with more opportunities for future projects.

Ego is like butter, salt, heat, and sugar — a little conscious and measured addition in your recipe goes a long way.

Number 2A is also important, and that’s this: Be good.

Have a sober and humble estimation of your skills.

Video yourself. Get a good ears on your voice. Get a wise, incisive and kind acting coach on your storytelling.

What are your blind spots? What are your blocks?

Get in there and work on them and become the electric malleable and expressive performer that you yourself can trust to tell a story with honesty and power. If you know, you can do that, imagine the difference that will make when you walk into a room to share your solution to a casting problem.

And Number 3 —

Have something rich and meaningful going on in your life besides this audition.

Your performing career needs to thrive inside a rich and meaningful life. What do you have going on that gives life to you in life to those around you?

Sit down and write down what’s truly most important to you. Who are your people? Who do you love and who loves you?

And this is dramatic, but effective, and let’s face it, we’re dramatic. When you’re on your deathbed, is this audition or this show opportunity going to be the thing you’re thinking about?

If you’re at an appointment and you know that you have a writers’ meeting later that day on the project that you’ve put together or you’re going to meet up with that friend you haven’t seen in a long time, it’ll set you free to put things in context, and you won’t put value on things that you don’t need to put value on.

What is valuable is your preparation and showing up with excellence so that you prove to yourself that you’re a skilled and generous performer, who has a rich depth of artistry to bring to the table.

So, back to those folks booking all those jobs who clearly don’t deserve it and fill you with indignation. Here are some possibilities to weigh:

Maybe they’re better than you think they are. And maybe just because you understand what a good performance entails doesn’t mean that you’re delivering that yourself. I remember when I realized the gap between my intellectual understanding of the thing and my actual physical execution of that same thing. Ouch. And thank God.

Notice what’s in their energy. It might just be bravado, but there’s something in their energy that communicates “I don’t need this.” They’re not thirsty for connection at the party.

And remember, you don’t know their life. You’re judging a performance aesthetic and skill set, and you’re attaching meaning to their character. Stop doing that. Number one, it’s not your business, and number two, it’s a waste of your time while you could be working a messa di voce exercise to get your head and chest voice making terrific friends.

Comes back to work my acting coach Elizabeth said that time.

You’ve got to stand for yourself, and I’m convinced that having the skill, competence, and preparation underneath you is what will give you a substantial foundation that you can plant your feet on. Do that over and over, and great results will show up in your audition in creative life.

So get in there and do the work. There’s only one you, and folks need to hear the story on the you can sing. Now go sing.

These Helped ?

July 24, 2023 / dancallaway

The question that gets a stumped pause from me now:

“What are you reading?”

Rarely an answerable question for a parent of young children.

My audio book game is strong, though, and I will pop on my new bone conduction headphones (thanks Aunt Sherri!) while I’m emptying the dishwasher to scratch my input itch.

(You know about Clifton Strengths? It’s a tool that tells you what your natural are.)

I always forget mine, but I remember at the top of the list is INPUT. ?

I love to know things, find out things, learn things. And tell YOU about the things.

So I’m sharing some of the most meaningful input sources in my life with you: books.

In no particular order, here you go:

Walking on Water by Madeleine L’Engle

From the author of A Wrinkle in Time, this book reflects on L’Engle’s lifelong integration of faith and art.

A few small phrases from this book are always in my pocket when I need context or a little light to see my way.

Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke

This correspondence between the German poet and a young artist represents a mentorship we all wish we could have.

Makes me long for how we used to get letters, read them a few times, and let their words live in our imaginations while we waited for the next one to arrive.

If you never read the book, there’s a terrific quote to store in your heart:

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue.

“Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything.

“Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

So brilliant and so frustrating. A thought like that’s not going to get a lot of clicks these days.

An Everlasting Meal by Tamar Adler

I’ve told you about this book before. I love it. And there’s a cookbook now.

The book comes from Adler’s blog. She used to cook at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, and the way she writes about bread, beans, and boiling vegetables makes you want to fill up a pot with salty water and get going.

Its theme is based on an earlier book written during the Depression called How to Cook a Wolf. You’ll never look at your chopped-off onion ends the same way again.

And if you like braised beef, you won’t find a better way to do it than in this book. Risotto, too.

Anything by Anthony Doerr

This year I listened to Cloud Cuckoo Land and All the Light We Cannot See on my walks from the train to work.

When you hear a novelist create such specific and diverse worlds and connect them in such unexpected and inevitable ways, it’s evidence that there’s beauty in the world and goodness and truth in the human imagination.

Both of these books are masterful.

Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown

This book is so important for storytellers — it breaks down the nuance and facets of language we use for emotion.

When our language is clear, connection happens. (Her explanation of the difference between envy and jealousy is fascinating.)

And don’t forget — there’s only one you, and folks need to hear the story only you can sing.

Love much,

Dan

PS You know your Clifton Strengths? Tell me! I looked mine up again —
Input, Empathy, Positivity, Developer, Adaptability

PPS And something to think about — What has it looked like to live a question? What questions are you living right now?

PPPS Here are those bone conduction headphones I told you about.

The Glitter, Though!

July 21, 2023 / dancallaway

Our Noah bear’s already had his share of dental adventures in his 5 years.

I’ll spare you the saga, but I’m grateful we found a terrific pediatric dentist who’s a menschela with the hands of a micro surgeon. I don’t know if a micro surgeon is a thing, but Dr. Eliasberg would be that.

We’d come through the last of the procedures requiring the “sharp water” (There’s a whole mystery deception language they use with the kids, and it’s brilliant.), when one morning I was brushing Noah’s teeth, and I saw behind a lower incisor ANOTHER tooth growing in.

Wha?

This is a thing that happens. The permanent tooth sometimes wants to make an appearance before the kid tooth gives itself to the Tooth Fairy coffers.

Lordt.

We called Dr. E. What was just going to be a routine cleaning was going to need to be an extraction so the new teeth had somewhere to go.

Dr. E worked her magic again, and Noah emerged from the chair not only okay but proud of his new look. And excited about the milkshake in his future.

That evening, we were out of singles, so while I taught, Melissa put together the mystical dental exchange gift.

She used the only bill she had in her wallet — a cold fresh 20.

And she nested it in its own little ziplock bag surrounded by copper colored glitter.

We’re setting a pretty high tooth bar, here, aren’t we? I mean, I felt lucky when the Magic Molar Maven remembered to drop a quarter under my pillow.

He had been through the tooth wars, though. So sure. Ok.

I slipped in and performed the exchange —which was a challenge. Let’s just say I’m not going to be moonlighting as a cat burglar or a forest tracker anytime soon.

The next morning Noah and Jude came downstairs, Noah holding up his gift with his lower gap beaming.

“Daddy! She came! And she brought me GLITTER!”

Magic was real.

And it was — to see the delight on this kid’s face.

“There is something else in there,” I told him.

He looked closer. “Oh, a message?”

I informed him that there was also a rectangle of green paper representing monetary energy included in his gift. I didn’t tell him it was a 20. The whole dental euphemism glossary has sent me off on a deceit rampage, it seems.

But what would it be to be thrilled by a ziplock snack size of copper colored glitter under your pillow?

I wish for you to have a moment when something feels magical like that today.

And I hope the Tooth Fairy’s fresh out of coins and small bills.

Instagram Scam (Smells Phishy) — and the real question we should be asking

July 19, 2023 / dancallaway

I got a message from a mysterious Instagram account asking,

My gut immediately sent up the fishy delete this is suspect alert. And I as I wrote yesterday, I’m trying to get better at listening to those signals.

But I decided to experiment. I told the mystery person I did write, and they said Oh! Would I please write a little personalized bday song for their son turning 4?

I let them know I didn’t have time to do said project, but I knew folks who could.

They weren’t listening.

Somehow once I’ve engaged in a conversation I’m unable just to tap “delete.”

I mean, maybe I can knock out a silly song about Tiger and his puppy in half an hour, slap it on a video and send it to this mystery person for hundreds of dollars.

When I continued the experiment, I said, “Sure, I’ll send you a credit card payment link — you can pay the first half now and the rest when I send you the song.”

Then all this back-and-forth ensued about, “Oh, I can’t do Venmo, and I have to send you a mobile check because I have a domiciliary account (had to look that up)….. “

This whole send you a check from strangers thing is super phishy, and I don’t even understand how these fake check folks net a profit from all this particular grift.

I just told them they’d need a credit card and reported them to IG — I’m sure Meta’s right on it.

But it got me to thinking — the intellectual, emotional (?), and SOUL resources humans all over the globe expend to steal from other folks.

In this case it’s super gross because this person is hunting unsuspecting songwriters on the interwebs and luring them to spend creative energy writing a birthday song for a fictional child.

Maybe targeted songwriter could use some help knocking out that rent this month, so their need for cash might cut off their better BS instincts.

Insta-scam’s gonna take their money, their creative resource, and their time.

Made me ask myself a question, though, and oof:

How do I scam myself on time?

How do I dupe myself into thinking I’m investing my time well when I’m really spinning my wheels and telling myself I’m going somewhere?

The question annoys me and makes me a little angry, so that means it’s one worth asking.

I’ll keep you posted.

Candy Land Usurper

July 18, 2023 / dancallaway

Candy Land is a cruel game.

Masked in sugary rainbow joy colors with sinister smiling denizens populating its simple carbohydrate forests — it’s a trap.

Oh, let’s learn colors. Let’s count. Let’s follow RULES together.

No.

When a four-year-old gets two-thirds of the way to the castle and draws that go-back-to-popsicle-purgatory card, the only result is abject wailing.

And if Daddy draws 2-purple-squares after that, nudging him closer to the syrup throne, wailing turns to candy apple blood vengeance.

Yesterday morning, Jude was so offended by the whims of the Candy Land fates, he swept my blue plastic piece from its spot and zoomed his little green child across the board straight to the candy castle.

“Jude, that’s not how you play it,” I explained with utter futility.

I even reviewed the new word we’d learned the night before reading Prince Caspian: Usurper! In received pronunciation, of course.

Equally fruitless.

By this time, the older brother was witnessing the injustice happening at the whims the Candy Land gods, and he vowed, “I will WIN Candy Land for you, Jude! I’m good at this game!”

While this brotherly solidarity made my heart happy (”Callaways stick together!” we always say), I felt it important to let Noah in on an important truth:

You can’t be good at Candy Land.

Noah’s eyes communicated a paradigm shift cracking open in his noggin. “What?”

“Candy Land is about what card you draw. It teaches you to count AND TO FOLLOW RULES,” I said, for Jude’s benefit of course. (I’m sure he heard me.)

I drew the next card as my little plastic avatar stood at the castle’s peppermint portcullis. It was a mystery chocolate truffle that sent me back to the very beginning of the journey.

“See? Now I have to go all the way back. That’s how this game works,” I explained.

I expected “Ooooh, okay.”

Instead, I got, “Seize the castle while our enemy languishes in the candy floss swamps!”

Luckily, for all of us (because luck is all Candy Land is about — luck and sobbing), Noah vanquished me fair and square by the cards’ oracular proclamations, and he was thus able to find satisfaction for his brother’s earlier demise.

Later that day, we got behind a school bus. It couldn’t make a tricky right-immediate-left situation happen because the Accords and RAV-4s weren’t gonna let big yellow in front of them.

The bus had to do an around-my-ass-to-get-to-my-elbow maneuver to get to where he was going (we ended up following it), and Noah asked, “Why weren’t the people letting him in?”

“Well, buddy,” I said, “driving is like a game of Candy Land. You never know what fellow motorists you’re going to draw.”

And just like Jude, if you showed me a way to slide directly to the castle when the squeezy roads of Framingham slow to molasses-miles-an-hour, I’d take it.

There’s something in here about the Candy Land cards you’re dealt and being a good sport and a gracious winner and rolling with the munches ?, but for now let’s just do our best to count out our spaces on the board with kindness.

And take popcorn breaks as necessary.

Love much.

Full Fridge Freakout

July 16, 2023 / dancallaway

And two words that dissolve decision fatigue and overwhelm

I have a thing about the refrigerator.

If the grocery cart (carriage, I mean. I’m in New England now) gets really full, rather than thinking something like, “Wow, how grateful I am to be able to get these groceries,”

my mind maps the current real estate in the Kenmore food cooler (empty as it may be), and cortisol levels spike as I imagine stacking the ground turkey and chicken thighs BEHIND the sideways almond milk carton on that obscure shelf just above the crisper drawer.

What If I forget the chicken thighs? I need to SEE what we’re working with.

Melissa, on the other hand, loves her a full fridge. Full fridge = provision and gratitude.

To me, it’s “we better use all of this! And look! Those strawberries are already getting mushy sides. I didn’t SEE that in the store. I shoulda KNOWN not to get the ones from the display!”

The origins of this anxiety are complex. May come from one too many disappointments opening chilled cool whip containers at my grandmother’s house only to discover green beans. What a cruel trick.

I also fantasize about sauntering to the local outdoor market with a macrame satchel, seeing what’s fresh and in season that day, and letting the food, you know, just speak to me. (The last sentence was to be read with a low, breathy tone and sibilant [s]s.)

Comes down, actually, to something very everyday human for me, though: decision overwhelm.

And it’s the reason we have stress hormones injecting themselves into our neurology these days. Living in the US, we’ve got a glut of choices.

And it isn’t good for us.

Even as I write that, I’m thinking, “oh, but I WANT to have the possibility available.”

It’s kind of like when Jude’s in the zone making a magna-tile tower, and he notices Noah carrying He-Man’s little plastic sword. Suddenly, that’s the One Ring to Rule them All.

It’s hard to show up and do the over-and-over thing you might be bored with when so many new shinies sparkle in your periphery.

How do we return to the repeated actions that bring satisfaction and health?

For me, one way is to ask, “So that?”

I’m writing this to you so that —

? I’ll figure out what my fridge thing is about.

?‍? You’ll read about my fridge thing and feel better about your deodorant storage hangup.

✍️ I can record what I was thinking about in July 2023.

? I can write and share something today. That’s satisfying.

? and so that maybe one day a singer googles, “How does full fridge anxiety overlap with musical theatre singing?,” and this article will populate the TOP of the search suggestions.

In anything I do, I want to connect.

It’s why I teach, why I sing, why I cook for people (Ina Garten’s got a great chicken thigh with fingerling potatoes and salad recipe), and why I write.

And if I know what I wrote made your day better, then perfect.

Now I gotta make a grocery list.

Soccer Folk at the Hyatt Starbucks. And Death.

July 14, 2023 / dancallaway

Melissa and I stayed at a Hyatt Hotel at the same time as a whole lot of youth travel soccer teams.

There was a Starbucks in the lobby, and since I go into migraine withdrawal if I consume less than 2 and a half cups of coffee, my addicted self was down there first thing to snag my overpriced venti stimulant.

And so were the parental units of these footballers. ⚽️

And I learned: one adult did not represent one coffee order.

Nope.

Yoga pants with the tight ponytail playing tug-of-war with her brow furrow was gonna need

a frap

an iced something with 2 pumps of fairy syrup

a vanilla caramel hazelnut macchiato flat no foam soy oat almond skim situation.

And a large cup of ice.

What? No more gruyere egg bites? Really?

“That’s what ‘sorry, we’re out’ means,” went my brain. “Can we move along so cargo shorts with the backwards Bass Fishing cap can order the 7 complicated beverages that just chimed in on his moblie device?”

If you sense judgment in my tone, you’re right. I’m working on it.

I just couldn’t imagine a world of weekend-after-weekend travel to midsize cities to talk game outcomes in hotel elevators while shelling out dollars for fees, equipment, plane tickets, and hotel rooms. And Frappuccinos.

Sounds like one of the middle rings of the Inferno.

No shade to soccer, seriously. There’s probably a lot of it in my future.

But the commitment to this kind of travel, this kind of money, and your kids freebasing sugar-feine so they can wear their bodies out at back-to-back matches? I mean, when does anybody have time to play Saturday Nintendo Duck Hunt these days?

I’ve been thinking a lot more about death. Just the fact that it’s going to happen. I’m also absorbing the truth that I can’t make more time.

And I still waste it.

To transcend distraction for me requires Ulysses-tied-to-the-mast level intervention.

I’m working on it.

The question is — What leaves you satisfied? And what creates an interaction you’re proud you left behind?

(And yes, that can absolutely happen in travel soccer.)

And what leaves you empty, depleted, and wondering where your time went? Let’s have less of that, please.

Worth the Soul Toll?

July 12, 2023 / dancallaway

My taste in music’s like my taste in cuisine.

My favorite food’s a cheeseburger. WITH french fries. Bring me ranch dressing for dipping? Heaven.

I love risotto, boeuf bourguignon, any iteration of potato, omelettes, biscuits, and BUTTER.

I want it to be rich, satisfying, comforting, delicious, and I want it to be worth the time and effort to prepare it.

I want cooking it to be a joy.

This is why I subscribe to the Joy of French Cooking school of music making; I’ll have my ballad in a nice béchamel, please.

I could never pierce the meaning of 20th Century atonal musical (or anything that sought to deconstruct.)

While I empathize with the need to howl at the chasm in the early 20th Century, I still need cadences.

And if I’m going to work my ass off to learn a piece of music, it better fill my soul and make an audience go “yuuuummmm” and say, “My compliments to the chef.”

We have a phrase in our house — soul toll.

We bandy it liberally, apply to myriad situations, and even musicalize it.

It describes end-of-day emotional dysregulation (child and adult), traffic, shopping at Market Basket on a Saturday, and stoplight texters. (Of course, I’ve never done that.)

So, when it comes to life choices, the question becomes, “Is this worth the soul toll?”

Just because you have that block available on your calendar doesn’t mean you have adequate soul units to fuel that activity.

So I invite you to use this Q when you face choices.

Another way to ask this was something I heard Marie Forleo say: “Is the juice worth the squeeze?”

Caveat: not every lime in your life is going to yield ample zing to your G and T. Some you just have to squeeze, be glad you bought the Bombay Sapphire, and then take a nap.

But where you do have agency, check in with your soul tank, and get all Mary Oliver with yourself: What are you gonna do with that one wild and precious life?

Whatever you choose, I recommend butter.

Quick! Get Off the Highway!

July 11, 2023 / dancallaway

We took a long road trip last June, and there was a major backup in Pennsylvania.

We’d driven through three big slowdowns (Connecticut!) and a rain torrent of biblical proportions, so we were beat.

Our very last wait-with-the-big-trucks event turned out to be the rubberneck side of the real event.

A crash on the other side created a dead stop for miles. The state police just shut the highway down at one point and detoured traffic. This caused another miles-long backup.

When I’m on the smooth-sailing side of the highway whooshing past a phalanx of furrowed headlights, I feel a mix of “oof so glad that’s not me” while I scan my recent traffic experience to see if my karmic balance means I deserve this turn to drive gridlock-free.

9 years living in LA tells me the answer is a perpetual yes.

But you get all kinds of mixy feelings when you go by a traffic event like this. You pray everyone in the crash was ok. You feel bad for the folks whose trips just got hours longer. And then you really feel anxious for the cars farther down the road doot-da-dooing at 75 mph straight toward an impending wall of stop.

The uncomfortable collection of feelings you get — feeling bad for folks while having no agency to do anything to help anybody — that’s a good check that your empathy’s on line.

And when you’re faced with gridlock (because no matter how many traffic karma hours you’ve logged on the 405 Freeway, you’ll still face gridlock), you can make another plan.

You can figure out how to wait well. I mean, there are podcasts now.

(Sometimes when the 5 Freeway was at a standstill, Melissa used to just go see a movie.)

Or you can take an alternate route.

A few weekends ago, Melissa and I went to Gloucester and Rockport, and Interstate 95 around Boston was a wicked clustah.

So, we took the scenic route through the towns outside the 95 perimeter.

It took an hour longer than waiting in traffic, and there were whoops-turn-arounds. But passing hydrangea bushes and town squares was a better plan than staring at concrete highway dividers.

So, just because you can’t do anything to help the folks on the other side doesn’t mean you need to turn off your mirror neurons or calculate some cosmic system of traffic experience fairness.

And when you’re the one who’s got to wait, you can find the best way for you to wait well or make a pit stop at the Louisa May Alcott House.

And look how beautiful Rockport, Massachusetts, is.

Stop Hitting Yourself — Music Abuse, we’ve all done it. Here are some ways to recover.

July 10, 2023 / dancallaway

I used to hit myself in voice lessons.

Freshman year of college. I couldn’t sing a passage that was beyond my vocal ability, and I sounded like a mule dragging an overfilled tobacco sled to the tune of something that might’ve sounded like “Donna non vidi mai” from Manon Lescaut.

I’d sing a wrong note. I’d crack. It’d sound terrible in my head.

And like a reflex, I’d smack my right thigh like a Dickensian cop truncheoning truant orphans.

Richard Cook would sit balletically straight on the piano bench and look at me with wide, concerned eyes.The cogs in his brain must have turned the little bingo decision ball in the “above my pay grade” answer box.

Voice lessons were times when I wanted

✅ the right answers (consistent impressive hight notes, duh)

? the exact prescription for creating the right answers

? better ability than my competition

? approval from my teacher and peers

? stunning vocal ability so that I could then accept myself

? to tear down and eradicate every vocal fault I had and only sound like a perfect star of a singer

?️ to keep my voice contained in a safe manageable place where I could control all the correct, impressive, exact, superior, applause-inciting, approved, and fault-free sounds I would consistently make.

It was a mess in here.(I’m pointing everywhere.) And that shit hurt.

This is why I tell the pedagogy students at the BoCo: singing just happens to be the modality we get to work in to help folks heal.

The way I tried to use singing when I was 18 was music abuse.

Here’s why.

?‍♂️ Exercise is good for you. When you use exercise to comparing yourself to your treadmill neighbor, it disconnects you from its healthful purpose.If you’re in yoga class thinking, “Damn, I can Trikonasana so much better than that inflexible shaky pants over there,” you may have missed the point.

? Nutritious food is good for you. If you’re eating your kale and pumpkin seed salad with a splash of lemon juice while a seething judgment of the folks going into Dunkin Donuts across the street boils in your liver, you may be injecting more free radicals into your system than the antioxidants in that kale can mitigate.

? Spiritual practice is good for you. But if you’re like, “I’m pretty sure I meditated and prayed longer than all these jokers in this planning meeting this morning,” you may be missing out on some of the soul benefits a gratitude list can offer.

We do the same thing with singing.

We ab- (the Latin root means away) -use it.

We take it away from its natural and healthy purpose and turn it into a means to tell ourselves the story of better-than.

Because of loving teachers, caring friends, artist peers, plus the privilege to be a teacher, I saw examples of how singing can transform you and those who listen.

I learned

? Singing’s an always-moving thing, and the moment you try to pin it down and box it, you’re dealing with past tense.

? So many things can be true about the free ways you can sing. And once you think you have a tool figured out, you’ll find it doesn’t apply to everything you want to use it for.

? A singer can sound flawless, and you can notice that you just don’t care. If singing’s not connected to an open heart and a commitment to be generous, it’s lifeless. And we can tell.

?? Approval and applause feels good, and their effects evaporate like morning fog. You have to find a deeper purpose for making music, one that brings satisfaction to your individual soul and one that makes you proud of the trail of interactions you’ve left behind.

You have to embrace yourself before you can embrace your voice.

Even if you’re making technically stunning sounds, if you don’t have space and compassion for yourself, no amount of virtuosity is going to earn the grace you need for you.

There’s gold in what you call your vocal faults. And when you get curious about them instead of angry at them, they have a lot to teach you.

and

Your voice is all of you.

It creates itself from the very essence of you being alive — your breath. And it has the power to reconnect the broken pieces like golden vocal Kintsugi. (Thanks Kevin Wilson for this illustration.)

If we could see the energy and vibrations surrounding and coming from us, our minds would be blown on a James Webb Telescope discovery level.

While you may not open-palm slap yourself like 18-year-old me did, I invite you to be curious about the ways you might inflict punishment instead of offer understanding.

Singing is a healing path, and when you’re committed to being whole-hearted and walking it, folks who hear you will wake up to the hope that healing is possible for them, too.

Here’s your invite — get in there and heal. (It’s scary, unfamiliar, it hurts, and some of it really sucks, so don’t be alarmed.)

But it’s a life and death situation. There’s only one you, and we need to hear the story only you can sing.

Love much,

Dan