“Your voice is so distinctive. Do you sing?” my client asked.
I shook my head no and began telling her about my life-long phobia. “It started in fifth grade when the music teacher asked me to sing in front of the class.”
My hands shook. My lips began to quiver. But the moment forever etched in my mind is when I looked up to see the boy I had a crush on laughing and imitating my quivering lips.
I never sang again.
After spilling the beans about my embarrassing moment, I made a decision. I would overcome this fear by taking singing lessons.
I hired Elizabeth, a vocal coach who usually works with kids. I went to her studio once a week to learn breathing exercises, singing posture, and vocal technique.
After three months of lessons, Elizabeth dropped a bombshell. “The kids have a recital in two weeks. I think you should be in it.”
Practice is one thing. It’s when I sing in front of the mic that I fall apart. My hands shake. The words get stuck in my throat. I cannot bear to open my eyes, and yes, my lips still quiver.
I surprised myself by telling her yes as I left class that evening. On the drive home I started to panic. “There is no way I can sing in front of people!”
I started thinking about how to get out of it. I could tell her I’d be out of town for a speaking gig, or make up some personal excuse, or use the old standby “Mercury’s in retrograde.”
I knew I couldn’t lie to her. If I backed out, I had to tell Elizabeth the truth. I was just too scared to sing.
On the day of the recital, I thought, “No worries. The audience will be small. Who’s coming anyway? Just a few parents and grandparents.”
When I walked in, there had to be at least a hundred people. I was freaking out!
Somehow, I made my way to the front and joined the kids who were singing that day. Behind me for support I had my mom and dad and their spouses, my sister, and six of my friends. I had a whole row of guests! Even if I made a total fool of myself, at least they’d give me a standing ovation.
Twelve singers performed that day. The first one was amazing! I don’t remember the next four, because I checked out mentally until I heard Elizabeth say, “And now, please welcome to the stage my newest student, Leslie Zann.”
I slowly took the stage, fumbled with the mic stand to adjust it to adult height, took a big breath and began…
What good…(cough)…
What good is sitting alone in your room? Come hear the music play.
Life is a cabaret, old chum, Come to the cabaret.
Put down the knitting, the book and the broom, It’s time for a holiday.
Life is a cabaret, old chum, Come to the cabaret.”
Midway through the performance, something magical happened. I realized the irony of the song I’d chosen. It’s about having PASSION for life – no matter what you’re doing. And I felt a shift take effect in my body.
I actually opened my eyes. My lips stopped quivering. I found myself actually enjoying the experience I once dreadfully feared.
Before I knew it, I was on the final stanza. My 4 minutes and 32 seconds of fame had gotten kind of exciting!
Start by admitting from cradle to tomb. Isn’t that long a stay.
Life is a cabaret, old chum. And I love a ca-ba-reeeeet!
I threw my hands up in the air and struck a pose a la Liza Minelli.
Time stood still.
I heard applause as if coming out of a dream. Everyone was on their feet. I looked at “my row.” Mom was crying. Dad was enthusiastically clapping his hands above his head. My sister jumped up and down as my friends high-fived each other.
“Holy smokes! Is this really happening?!”
Elizabeth took the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, I want you to know Leslie’s story,” she said. “She came to me with the goal of overcoming her fear of singing. You just witnessed her very first live performance in 45 years.”
And with that, the audience erupted into applause all over again. I replied with a whimsical curtsey.
That day I discovered I really love to sing. I knew I wasn’t Celine Dion, but that wasn’t the point. I realized I could have gone the rest of my life without singing. Because of my fear, I almost robbed myself of something special.
And then I had another aha. “What else am I missing because of fear? What other fun things are worth the risk and just waiting for me to go after them?” It was a life-changing epiphany.
Today, even if something scares me – and a lot of things scare me – I go after it.
I challenge you to ask yourself the same question. What is out there waiting for you? Move through your fear, take the risk, and find out.