You Are Not Your Talent

I love what I do. It is such an honor to be a part of people's lives and musical journeys; to be allowed into the sacred space of their hopes, fears, and dreams.

There has been a whole lot of the above this week in my studio. One terrific singer is on her way to compete at the Apollo Theater in New York. The other is in Los Angeles beginning this season of American Idol.

Any performance can be nerve-wracking, but there is something about competitions—especially televised ones!—that really ups the ante.   I sang backup on Idol a few years ago, and vividly remember how crazy things can get for those young men and women. So much is at stake, so much is on the line... it can seem barely possible to hold it all together, much less to have a wonderful time and savor the experience.

Yet that is exactly what I am telling them to do.  And there's only one way to do it.

To remember the following: You are talented. But you are not your talent. Your specialness has nothing to do with what you do. It is an internal quality—an inherent gift—that is yours forever, whether or not you ever sing another note.

This should be reassuring to singers. And it would be, if they believed it.

Our culture does quite a job of blurring the lines between having a talent and being talented. As a result, we tend to celebrate people for what they do, not for who they are, reinforcing the notion that "it" is more important—and more valuable—that them.

This seems all the more real for those who, at an early age, get too close to this cultural view and start to intertwine the talent with their self-worth. From that moment on, failure is no longer an opportunity to learn and do better next time. It is the feared confirmation of being truly, completely, and utterly unworthy.  Which explains why for so many people competitions—and even performing—are painful, traumatic, and nerve-wracking experiences.

It is wonderful to have a talent. But talent is not what makes us wonderful. It is remembering this distinction that gives people power, freedom, and the ability to develop and share that talent—as well as themselves—without reservation.

I look forward to that sharing from Ericka, Nick, and all of the truly wonderful men and women that I have the pleasure—and the honor—to work with.

Taking A Permanent Vacation

There is nothing like a vacation. The to-do lists go away, the nagging "should" voices quiet, and time seems to slow down. Spontaneous walks and naps are welcomed rather than resisted. A latte at a café is a sensory experience to remember, rather than a hurried and even guilty pleasure.

Writing vacations are especially fun for me. Recently, my friend Vivian and I traveled to her house in upstate New York... for five glorious days we lounged on the couch and read, brainstormed about ideas in front of the fire and sipped warm, comforting teas while pecking away at our laptops. When the desire for a break came on, without hesitation we'd drop everything and take a walk in the snow, the fresh air and glorious views refreshing every aspect of ourselves.

Why does a day filled with the same activities seem entirely different when I'm back at home? I feel guilty for reading when I "should" be writing. I berate myself as unfocused when running out for a coffee. When I do allow myself to take a walk, I spend the time wondering how much I have or will accomplish that day.

It's never enough, by the way. What's more, it's always less than what I achieve when I'm on vacation.

What's going on here?

As opposite as our "real" and "holiday" lives may seem, there is really only one thing that differentiates them. It's not location; many "upstaters" flock to the city for a getaway. Nor is it circumstantial; dissatisfied with our "real lives" as we may be, our attitudes and perspectives travel with us and in time reveal themselves, even in the most ideal of locations.

What differentiates the two is perspective.

When we're at home, we're surrounded by a set of expectations -- our own and those of other people -- that we have taken on in the interest of being successful. And we imagine that rigid determination and dogged persistence will somehow create the conditions necessary for this success, productivity and even creativity to unfold.

We think by working harder -- and often, being harder on ourselves -- that somehow more will get done.

What we miss in this view is that the time, energy and attention required to create and maintain such vigilance takes away from the ability to actually accomplish anything. To say nothing of the additional stress that reduces, rather than rejuvenates, the mind's ability to imagine and create.

A vacation, therefore, is far more than an occasional respite from the real world. It is a state of mind that is always available; an invitation to escape self-criticism and expectation and surrender into the present moment. And then this one. And then this one.

Counterintuitive as it might seem, this state is the precise environment that breeds productivity, as well as pleasure, peace and playfulness. If you want all four, whether working or playing, it's time to consider a permanent trip...

Originally published in The Huffington Post

Overcoming Paralysis by Analysis

For me, the answers to life's big questions start with "why?"

Why does this piece of music move me so? Why do I feel frustration around that area? Why do I resist X or embrace Y?

A number of years back, I applied "why" to my consumption of most media-based information. Finding no satisfying answer, I turned it off.

To this day, save for an occasional 'big check in', I watch very little television, read no magazines and glance at the news headlines only when in line at Starbucks.

Before you shout heresy, try taking yourself out of the media game for a while and see upon your return if you've actually missed anything.

Weeks, months, and- as I've found- even years later, people are by and large still talking about the same things. The names and details may have changed, but in all of it- politics, world events, Hollywood- the themes remain the same.

Why then bother filling up your head, and time, with information that's not really moving forward?

More importantly, unless you're a journalist or paparazzi, it's likely not moving you forward either.

There are a limited number of hours in a day. If you're spending four of them taking in information that's not directly impacting your results, you're wasting your time.

To say nothing of the effects of consumption; stress, overwhelm and a sense of powerlessness are both a reflection and result of the majority of today's content, draining additional productivity.

So why do we do it?

Certainly the cultural idea that we should be paying attention plays a role. But there's something more personal- and personally debilitating- going on.

We've been conditioned to believe that knowledge is the key to progress and success. The more we have of it, the better we are. And this is true.

But knowledge and information are two very different things.

Information is what makes us sound better at dinner parties. Knowledge is information- and inspiration- that is actionable.

For those of us afraid of the latter, information becomes an attractive alternative. We're busy. We're gathering data. We hide behind the excuse of information, claiming that we need more of it to be better equipped to act.

And then, when we're better equipped to act, we need more information to confirm our intentions.

It's a vicious cycle that can only be broken by looking critically at the "why" of your own consumption.

The next time you're browsing the internet- particularly your industry's websites and blogs- ask whether you're doing so to inspire and empower yourself to achieve your goals or to avoid doing what you've said you'd do.

Is it to support you in stepping into your own power, or to resist it?

Is it because you have a real need for the content, or simply because a new message is staring back at you from your inbox?

Acknowledging that we- rather than a lack of information- are generally the largest obstacle to action is the first step in becoming clear on exactly what and how much information we really do need.

Remember: ideas in = ideas out. Unless you're planning to literally become the next so and so, you need to get your own. And that only comes by turning it all off... letting it get good and silent so that you can hear the voice- the knowledge and inspiration- from within.

The Gift of Being Present

Every once in a while, I feel the need to shake things up. Even the best of routines get stagnant after a time and benefit from a bit of movement.

This has certainly been the case in my working environment. Sometimes writing with a view is inspiring, other times it's a distraction. The same goes for background music, as well as sitting alone at my desk versus around others at my favorite coffee shop.

Having recently spent far too much time gazing out the window in my office, last week I repositioned my desk against the far wall in the hopes of also changing my mental scenery. It worked, with the sole downside being the office phone's inability to reach across the room. While not a deal breaker, it certainly was an inconvenience given its constant usage.

It turned out to be the best thing that could have happened.

In the desk's original place now sits a solitary, comfortable chair. There's no way to access the desktop computer while talking on the phone, no internet to browse. No drafts to mark up, no bills to pay.

Just the phone. And a chair.

What at first appeared as an obstacle to productivity has revealed itself to be a facilitator of true connection. Conversations, both professional and personal, have literally transformed now that each has my full and undivided attention. I've been- for the first time in a long time, it seems- really listening and hearing what others have to say. The intention was always there, yet so were other tasks and distractions.

What's more, I now make my way to the phone- both to make and receive calls- only when I'm ready, willing, and really able to be present. Which means I'm not only hearing those on the other end of the line. I want to hear them.

In a world where more- rather than less- is more, the rearranging of my office has been a humbling and important reminder that sometimes the 'old ways of doing things' are still the best. Indeed, technology can facilitate and increase our ability to connect with one another, but not the nature of how we do so. That's still up to us.

The next time you're on a call, wherever you are, take a moment to stop or put down what you're doing and give your attention wholly to the person on the other end of the line. Rearrange your priorities to really be present with the people in your life, whether in person or on the phone. It- and they- are worth it.

Resistance is Futile

I was on a walk the other morning, thinking long and hard, again, about a project I'd been putting off. Following a first mile dedicated to denouncing and dismissing it, I moved onto mile two and the many good reasons I had for not working on it any longer. By mile three, I was worked up into a sweat, as well as a lather.

Yet, no amount of denouncing, reasoning or walking got me beyond the heaviness that continued to set in. Try as I might, the more I pushed against the project, the more it stayed with me; its grip, as well as the knot between my shoulder blades, tightening.

Then something happened. Exhausted from it all, I stopped thinking and reasoning and made a choice to just get the project done. And in that moment, the whole world changed. I felt light and energized. My shoulders released.

It's tempting to dismiss the notion that a simple thought can cause such a 180 degree shift ... tempting, and wise. For the emergence of a new thought didn't cause the change; letting go of something did.

That something is called resistance.

It's incredible how such an intangible thing can have so very real an impact. It's not out there in the world, like a boulder blocking our path. It's not an appointment we can't reschedule, or a business trip we have to take.

Yet, we're so used to living inside our own heads that we don't realize that a whole lot of what's going on "up there" isn't real, resistance included.

Out there, the reality is that it usually takes more time and energy to come up with reasons and excuses to not do something than to simply do it. To round out the absurdity, 99.9 percent of the time, the "it" we're so doggedly resisting is something we ourselves have chosen -- directly or indirectly -- to do.

In "The Art of Singing", I talk about the futility and pervasiveness of active resistance. In creative and intellectual endeavors alike, we so often struggle to learn things that wait and want to be taken in effortlessly. The result? Thinking ourselves into ineffective inaction, exhausted by the effort and no more accomplished for it.

Whether active in the world or in our minds, resistance saps more than our energy and ability to be productive in a specific area. Just as resentment for even one person tends to affect your way of being with others, pushing hard against a specific project or idea reduces your ability to be productive, free and creative in other areas of your life.

Right about now, your own resistance may be pulling out its partners in crime: cynicism and reasoning. They -- along with procrastination and quitting -- round out its arsenal, often making it difficult to discern wisdom from naiveté.

Indeed, our minds aren't always our friends in this discernment. If they were, every goal we set would be achieved, every plan fulfilled. Instead, our fears rise up against notions of change, masking themselves as good sense.

The next time resistance rises up, pause to remember when you last encountered this slippery foe. Think about what it benefited, as well as how much it cost you. Nine times out of 10, its pretty promise is nothing more than insecurity in disguise, carrying resignation and frustration as its parting gifts. Thinking ourselves wise, we so often take them, trading our fear of failure for failure itself -- our dreams of productivity and creativity for a lack of both.

If you want stasis, the illusion of stability and the glories of being "in control," turn up the volume on resistance's dirge. If you want freedom, wonder, self-expression and success, turn it off and get to work.

You Are What You Read

There's been a great deal of focus on the food industry recently. The perils of GMOs, hormones, fast food, antibiotics and apathy are becoming more widely known, thanks to the likes of Michael Pollan, Eric Schlosser, Morgan Spurlock and even Barbara Kingsolver, who've produced movies, books and other compelling materials on the matter.

My partner is passionate about the issue and is gladly in charge of the food in our home. Glad and passionate as he may be, numerous challenges arise when we shop. Trips to even the best of grocery stores bring about dissatisfaction in the number of poor food choices, uncertainty over labeling and a heck of a lot more money for the healthy, natural and humanely-treated and sanely-delivered foods that once were a given.

I'm grateful John is so interested in the quality of what we're consuming -- as grateful as I am to reap the benefits of his care. I'd like to think I return the favor with my attention to a different form of consumption.

I very rarely, if ever, watch television. This is due in part to a greater interest in nature, socializing with friends and family and exploring the city and all it has to offer. It's also due to the fact that what for most people is television time for me is dedicated to reading.

Not only do I love to read, I've long believed that reading is simply "better" than television. There's no marketing coming at you in musical, multi-colored rapid fire, and the content is more thoroughly explored and intelligently presented.

What I've missed in this somewhat arrogant and narrow view is the reality that everything we read and watch -- as well as eat, listen to and experience -- has an impact and leaves an imprint. While certainly the quality of those imprints are important to our bodies, minds and well-being, the mere presence of an imprint of any kind is worth consideration.

This became clear to me a couple of weeks ago. I'd been reading a top-selling book of non-fiction by an award-winning author on a culturally-relevant and personally intriguing topic. The language was smooth and well-crafted, the arguments were well-reasoned and the experience was pleasant and enlightening.

And I woke up every morning during that time having dreamt of the book and its contents.

This isn't necessarily a bad thing, yet it did give me pause to consider what was not being processed, what was not being achieved during my resting hours given the influx of this information.

What is not being healed, relaxed, processed and released, what is not being generated, created and invented due to the pervasive influx of information from all forms of technology, entertainment and information sources?

Reading, like television, provides fuel for our brains. Certainly it is important to be conscious of the quality of what we take in and to cultivate a relationship with our minds -- and our bodies -- that is nourishing and healthy. Yet it is equally important to remember that there is a need for space in the nourishment cycle.

Just as the body can't consume food 24 or even 12 hours a day, we need to pause in order to process what it is we've taken in. What's more, we need to realize the opportunity for nourishment that resides in that pausing. Silence and stillness are their own forms of education and entertainment -- forms that many of us could use a good deal more of.

'The Hot Seat': Lessons from American Idol

In my career, I've had some truly extraordinary performance experiences. Being on "American Idol" was no exception.

During season six, I was called in to sing backup vocals for Hollywood Week, which, as many of you know, brings the top 30 finalists to Los Angeles for seven days of intense group work and solo performances.

Being there was incredible, in part because of the ability to be in it without being in it; getting to participate in the week and be on stage without the pressure of being a competitor afforded me a priceless view of both the cultural phenomenon that is "American Idol" and the very human experience of being a part of it. Gazing past the hot seat (or hot mic, as it were) into the faces of the judges and those in the audience afforded a perspective I'll never forget.

And it's a great perspective. There is an ease that comes from not being in the spotlight. It's the best of both worlds, in a sense: I'm on stage and doing what I love, but without the pressure that comes from being wholly responsible for the performance's success.

Yet something's missing from that view, as comfortable as it is.

I'm not talking about the fear, sweaty palms and raw nerves, though certainly they're a part of it. I'm talking about the opportunity to be truly alive.

Being alive was the last thing on my mind when I first started my lead role with Cirque du Soleil back in 2008. What I do remember was the fear of not being good enough, the overwhelming feeling of being in front of that many people and the pressure of carrying a show that so many had worked so hard to produce -- that so many people had paid good money to see.

Fortunately, once I had a few performances under my belt, I was able to enjoy the experience and the real opportunity it is to step up in that way. I was able to appreciate the awesomeness of being in that role, and the grace of carrying such a heavy load -- the real privilege it is to bear the weight of that kind of responsibility, and the joy that comes from doing so.

Let's take a step back and consider what it is that we love about "American Idol," "The Voice" and shows like them. Certainly a love of singing, music and performance has something to do with it. But I would venture that the obsession revolves more around our fascination with those who have the bravery to get up, bare their souls and give their all for a chance at their version of glory.

It's the story of the hero, repackaged, put to music and broadcast on television. And I believe it is our desire to be near and empathize with these heroes -- both as people and as an ideal -- that draws us week after week, show after show.

In my mind, this is the real opportunity of "American Idol." The show, and those like them, while certainly entertaining, are not mere entertainment. They're calls to action that sing to each and every one of us: bring everything you've got to the table -- then risk it all.

You don't need to be on television or even on stage to embrace this opportunity. Whoever you are and whatever you do, life hands each of us a moment-by-moment choice: put yourself in the proverbial hot seat for what you care about and believe in, or don't. In our work and our relationships, in every conversation, the choice is up to us: to merely live, or to be truly alive.

I see my clients -- whether they're backup singers, Broadway stars, or business professionals -- weigh these options in equal measure. It's a painful debate, until the clarity dawns that only by being willing to risk it all does having "everything to gain" become possible.

I'll never forget being behind Christina Aguilera on the Grammys when she emerged through the stage, smoke all around her, to sing James Brown's "It's a Man's World." That took courage, personally, vocally and musically. While singing with her was certainly a great experience, the real magic for me was watching her embrace life -- and really live -- on that stage.

The same is true of those young men and women whom I had the honor of singing with on "American Idol" back in season six. Standing in the wings with them as they waited for their turn, I certainly empathized with their nerves and fears. But as our eyes met just before they walked onto the stage, what overwhelmed me was being in the presence of human beings that were choosing to really show up for and be alive in their own lives.

Mary Oliver said it so beautifully: "When you hear, a mile away and still out of sight, the churn of the water as it begins to swirl and roil, fretting around the sharp rocks -- then row, row for your life toward it."

This is your life, your one life. I wish you the opportunity -- the true grace -- to take and rock whatever stage you choose to play on. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.


Originally published in The Huffington Post