The funny thing about having a public place to write (even if I still haven't made it really public) is that once I hit publish I feel as if the words become truth. Like I owe them something. So the other day after I wrote that I needed more music in my life, I decided I should do something about it. Seeing the words there made the need, the want, feel huge, obvious, real.
Last night I clicked around on some ads in the musicians section of craigslist until I found one that sounded like I might fit. And then I sent an email with some song clips. Ten minutes later a reply came in that I should come by the rehearsal studio today for an audition. Now this might not seem like much, but I don't do this. I do this in the shower, I do this when no one is home and I think the neighbors won't hear, I do this in comfortable and friendly settings once every three years.
But then something changed. And last week when my friend Mary wrote about fear, about stepping into it, about making the big things happen, I felt as if she were speaking directly to me. So a few hours ago I walked into Studio B on 30th street and sang a few blues songs for a band. There was a woman in there before me and I'm sure they'll see a few more before they make a decision, but at this point, as much as I want them to choose me, I feel like just going there in the first place was big enough. Because at least I tried. I said hello to the fear, called it out from it's lurking place in the corner, and leapt right into it.