“Who does this guy think he is anyway? Can’t he see he’s just in the way? Nobody here is interested in whatever noise he’s spewing!”
These are the imaginary voices of passersby echoing in my skull as I walk down the street. Dragging bulky instrument cases and an overflowing wagon behind me, I feel incredibly conspicuous. As I scope for a good spot to set up my music station, I feel the weight of the oncoming performance. It’s one of the most vulnerable moments in my life – the walk leading up to the busk.
I’ve found the negative voices in my head kick up to high gear the closer I get to my goal. I imagine that everyone is looking at me, wondering who I am and what I’m doing. As I choose a spot and start to set up, the voices grow louder still. They tell me everyone will notice if I fumble a cable, or worry that a rogue passerby will steal my equipment.
In reality, no pedestrian has ever said something like this to me. (I have had encounters with security in some venues, but that’s a different side of the coin). In fact, I would say 99% of the feedback I do get is positive. These insecurities even start to look silly when I write them out and expose them.
Still, any musician or performance artist may be able to identify with the feeling. The worst point is the very start of the journey. But every time you get back out there and face the voices again, they grow a little less potent.
And while it may be true that not everyone who passes by will be a fan of my music, those who aren’t just keep walking. So then, usually the only people I end up interacting with are positive and friendly!
I’ve come to accept this feeling of vulnerability as part of the process, and even embrace it as a type of strength. When we feel vulnerable, it’s because we’re stepping outside of our comfort zone and exposing ourselves to judgment. This is the only way we grow.
In fact, one of the reasons I began music was because it allowed me to express vulnerability and transmit my emotions in an artistic way. I think audiences can really recognize when an artist is authentic, and that’s what gets someone interested in a performance. Personally, I am much more likely to connect with an artist that shares their story through their work, rather than put up a wall and hide behind their performance.
Nelson Mandela
“I learned that courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.”
This quote exists in many forms, but I like Nelson Mandela’s version – “I learned that courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” I had always wanted to think of myself as a courageous person, and now I’m finally getting there.
This path may be what scares me the most, but it’s also what excites me the most. Even if on a particular night, I didn’t earn many tips or have good crowd interactions, I always feel so relieved and satisfied when it’s over. Flooded with serotonin, I can trek home with a huge smile, because I did the thing that my heart most longed for. I find incredible strength and power in my vulnerability.
I realize that not everyone may feel a calling to do something bizarre as playing music publicly on a whim. It is completely ok if you don’t empathize with my thought process and desires. I just thought I’d send out some words of encouragement for all those who do feel the drive to take the next step in their creative, professional, or personal life, and offer my own account of strength in vulnerability.