There’s a fine line between terrifying and exhilarating.
Sitting in front of a small group of intimate strangers, I’m about to take an extraordinary leap of faith. I’ve volunteered to sing in public and tell my life story in verse, while accompanied by a world-famous musician. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for an out of body experience.
I’m at a ranch in Santa Fe, on the campus of MEA, a midlife wisdom school. My five-day workshop, Finding Your Rhythm in Midlife and Beyond, is being led by MEA co-founder, Chip Conley, and Michael Franti, the renowned singer, songwriter, and performer.
It’s the third day of class and Michael is leading us in a group exercise to find our voice and share our experience aloud in song. My immediate thought on this assignment is NFW. But the universe and I had conspired to set me up. The first night, we’re outside at sunset and given incense sticks to write a word in the air to set an intention for the week. I don’t know why, but I spell out S-I-N-G, a spontaneous rather than intentional choice. Little did I know.
The second day, we do a ritual to release an ingrained negative mindset that no longer serves us and embrace a new positive one to help navigate major decisions, challenges and changes. Standing before a fire, I throw in a piece of paper on which I’d written, “I have trouble making big decisions because I care too much about what others think about me.” As I watched it burn, I declared aloud to my cohort members, “my new mindset is YES!”
Fear of public speaking, or Glassophobia, is the most common phobia; its effects can range from slight nervousness to paralyzing panic. Now, multiply that anxiety level exponentially and you have Decantophobia, the fear of singing in public. I’m not shy about speaking in public, in fact I enjoy it, but the thought of singing in front of an audience with a professional musician goes to DEFCON 1 on my risk meter.
I watch as one person after another in my group bravely vocalize their stories with Michael strumming softly on guitar and gently guiding them forward. Finally, he asks if there’s one last volunteer and as I’m sitting there, I realize that if my word is Sing and my new mindset is Yes, I would be a fool if I don’t seize this opportunity. Gathering my courage, I pipe up, “I’ll do it.”
I’ve assiduously avoided karaoke over the years and while I play a mean air guitar and have been belting out hits in my car since the early days of FM radio, I also remember being in a band and singing at a seventh-grade dance, where I absolutely mangled Sunshine of Your Love. I take some deep breaths and struggle to calm myself.
Michael strums a chord and encourages me to find the note. I begin searching for it, cringing when my voice quavers or cracks. Yet, I can feel the love and support from him and my group and finally, I find a scale I can navigate. I might be a little off key, but Michael says, “you got this,” and suddenly, I feel transported, ready to speak in a new language.
Something shifts as I lean into my fear. I sing about playing guitar with Carlos Santana and singing with Stevie Wonder, even if it’s just in my head. About being a writer and words being my constant companion. How my wife and children would be shocked and thrilled if they saw me singing in public.
They knew I’d come to Santa Fe seeking a breakthrough. I’d been to MEA at their Baja campus in 2019 and it had been a tumultuous five years. I’d survived two bouts of cancer and lost both my brothers to a rare form of dementia. Plus, for the past decade, I’ve been writing a lot about national politics and the regular doses of toxicity had taken its toll. I was ready to compose my next chapter.
Michael’s music is all about bringing out the best in ourselves and others and as I got to know him, I witnessed his kindness, generosity and joyfulness. While crooning away in public is totally out of my comfort zone, he helped me break through that barrier and see that my own playlist is always right there, and to sing it loud, no matter what anyone else might think.
By the end, my voice soars, as I finish with a stanza from the deepest part of my soul.
Sometimes, you have to step up and face your peers,
And let go and embrace all your fears.
Don’t want to go to my grave with my song still unsung,
To quote my favorite band, Just Keep On Truckin’ On!
It will take some practice for me to rock this new soundtrack. Meanwhile, it’s time to get into the studio and start working on my debut album. Yes, I Sing!
-Paul
Paul Gilbert is a writer, producer and idea engine. Hired at CNN’s inception, he became a producer and weekend anchor. He moved to New York to run the National Basketball Association’s entertainment division and then, emigrated to San Francisco to start Heart at Work, a film and video production company. Paul’s writing has appeared in the NY Times, Washington Post and Psychology Today and he’s currently working on a screenplay featuring characters spanning three generations who are facing major life transitions. Paul is also a Laughter Yoga leader, which has led to serious fun at three different MEA workshops.