Last week I participated in a two day improvisational vocal workshop. It wasn’t the first of its kind this year. But surrounded by others further along in the work and led by an extraordinary master teacher, I was pushed to the edges of my growth and skill in a way that I hadn’t yet experienced. I felt like I was in WAY over my head. 

I felt my fear. I observed it. I tried to befriend it. But then I gave it the coveted co-pilot seat, even allowing it to drive at certain moments. There was an exercise that took me so far beyond my comfort zone and feeling of safety – an improvised duet in front of the room to a tune I wasn’t familiar with. I sang. I froze. I messily and hastily found myself through to the end, dropping the ball in the process. And as I walked back to my seat, I felt the tears hot in my eyes and a familiar feeling of shame creep up. If I had only lifted my eyes to make contact with the others in the room, I’m sure I would have found only love and support. But I just wanted to hide.

The entire workshop I struggled with surrender, with being seen, with taking up space. Every exercise was an invitation to let go, to trust myself, to contribute my gift to the collective, and even to allow myself to be supported by those with more experienced than me. And almost every time, I found myself unable to respond with a vulnerable and open heart, with a beginner’s frame to be present and learn, taking in every part of the experience as helpful information in my evolution as a singer.

At the end, we formed three concentric circles. Those in the outside circle were space holders. Together, those in the middle layer composed a spontaneous song for those in the center, who received. I started in the outside circle, and one point I grabbed a nearby camera to document this beautiful closing exercise. As the song began taking shape and the shutter clicked, the aura of two convergent lessons came to me in that moment:

To stop being merely an observer and choose to actually *enter into* an experience embodied and empowered.

And to allow myself to be seen, even when it’s imperfect and messy – ESPECIALLY when it’s imperfect and messy. 

To be a channel of creativity and our divine gifts, we must trust ourselves and step into the circle to share our magic. We must enter the arena and open our mouths to sing before we even know what will come out. Sometimes we will fail. And sometimes the song will flow through us, the muse carrying us from note to note in a beautiful symphony.

As Chris-Anne says in her guidebook to this beautiful oracle card pictured, “We must give ourselves permission to fail in order to grow..[we must] bring ourselves to our personal growth edge and look into the abyss of creation.”