I played a TERRIBLE audition on Monday.
Usually, I have good performing nerves, and can face a fearsome panel without flinching.
This time, those nerves of steel deserted me. My heart pounded, my hands shook, my bottom lip wobbled (producing sporadic vibrato in places it really didn't belong), my mouth tightened up and notes cracked all over the place.
It was only one audition, 20 minutes of my life, and, in perspective, not at all a reflection of my talent, potential, or the hard work I put into preparing. It doesn't make me any less of a musician, and doesn't mean I'm any less likely to have a successful career. In fact, it was a valuable experience, and good preparation for the next couple of auditions I'm doing.
But, of course, I felt absolutely awful coming out of the audition room.
Humiliated.
A failure.
Thinking of all the HOURS of practice, for nothing.
Wishing I could do it again, and prove that, despite all evidence to the contrary, I CAN play the flute!!
Whilst I was dwelling on everything that went wrong (i.e. sulking), a friend posted a Bible verse on Facebook (Thank you, Andrea!):
So the audition panel saw me in a bad state - as if I'd just woken up, with messy hair, bleary eyes, bad breath and no make up. They saw all my raw blemishes and flaws. I wish they hadn't, but they did, and the truth is, it's OK. I was well and truly humbled, but I'm still alive, and breathing, and playing the flute.
I'm not naive enough to believe that God guarantees me an orchestral job or a glittering career - by no means. But I do believe He offers me - in fact, calls me to - a life of contentment and joy. A life that holds dearly a God-given passion and talent for music. I also believe that He will reward such a life - He will lift me up, whatever that means - regardless of one (or even a hundred) fluffed audition(s).
Whether or not I pass an audition, is, to a large degree, out of my hands. But the choice to live a life of humility and contentment is wholly mine, and I find that immensely comforting.
Being seen in your early-morning state can be quite liberating!
Usually, I have good performing nerves, and can face a fearsome panel without flinching.
This time, those nerves of steel deserted me. My heart pounded, my hands shook, my bottom lip wobbled (producing sporadic vibrato in places it really didn't belong), my mouth tightened up and notes cracked all over the place.
It was only one audition, 20 minutes of my life, and, in perspective, not at all a reflection of my talent, potential, or the hard work I put into preparing. It doesn't make me any less of a musician, and doesn't mean I'm any less likely to have a successful career. In fact, it was a valuable experience, and good preparation for the next couple of auditions I'm doing.
But, of course, I felt absolutely awful coming out of the audition room.
Humiliated.
A failure.
Thinking of all the HOURS of practice, for nothing.
Wishing I could do it again, and prove that, despite all evidence to the contrary, I CAN play the flute!!
Whilst I was dwelling on everything that went wrong (i.e. sulking), a friend posted a Bible verse on Facebook (Thank you, Andrea!):
So be content with who you are, and don’t put on airs. God’s strong hand is on you; he’ll promote you at the right time. Live carefree before God; he is most careful with you. (1 Peter 5:6-7, The Message)Or, the New International Version:
Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.The words 'humble' and 'content' stuck with me. How much of my post-audition angst was really because I was so wrapped up in what the judging panel thought of me - because my pride had taken rather a large fall?
So the audition panel saw me in a bad state - as if I'd just woken up, with messy hair, bleary eyes, bad breath and no make up. They saw all my raw blemishes and flaws. I wish they hadn't, but they did, and the truth is, it's OK. I was well and truly humbled, but I'm still alive, and breathing, and playing the flute.
I'm not naive enough to believe that God guarantees me an orchestral job or a glittering career - by no means. But I do believe He offers me - in fact, calls me to - a life of contentment and joy. A life that holds dearly a God-given passion and talent for music. I also believe that He will reward such a life - He will lift me up, whatever that means - regardless of one (or even a hundred) fluffed audition(s).
Whether or not I pass an audition, is, to a large degree, out of my hands. But the choice to live a life of humility and contentment is wholly mine, and I find that immensely comforting.
Being seen in your early-morning state can be quite liberating!
