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The StarFields Diary
[I'm Singing On The Beach ...]
[In And Out Of The Studio ...]
[First Gig At The Six Bells In Chiddingly]
The main purpose of Project Sanctuary activities is to OPEN UP LINES OF COMMUNICATION with the energy mind. I'm Singing On The Beach ...
I'm Singing On The Beach ...* The previous story to this can be found here.
So, and following on with my promise that I would continue to work on my public singing phobia, I put on the hat, the sunglasses and headed for Eastbourne Beach. Absolutely a personal development exercise, the idea was to perform a set consisting of three songs out in the open, out aloud, and not be terrified. I enlisted the help of Steve Collins to get me there, and after some discussion, I chose a beach that had some passing folk but was otherwise quite empty. Steve had a camera and took the pictures you can see here, to prove that I was really there, and I really DID this thing today on the day of the Lord May 5th, 2006. I had decided on the first and third song - Forward Or To Hell, and Give Me Purple. The middle one was still a nebulous. We got there, parked the car, walked to the beach and I must admit that I was still very scared. It is a strange thing to be doing to stand up on a beach somewhere in broad daylight and start to sing, very loudly at that. But it had to be done, and we'd gotten this far, and so now it was quite literally "Forward Or To Hell, My Friend ..."! So I picked up the guitar, put the strap around my shoulders, tried to take a deep breath and just got started. My voice isn't quite there yet after the training weekend at Gatwick; but I had enough volume and flexibility left to give a reasonably decent rendition of Forward. Some things I noticed. The song seemed to go on literally FOREVER. This is a phenomenon of time distortion which occurs under stress and was originally designed to make the attacking wolf go into slow motion and give you more time to get away. You need to have quite a severe level of stress to trip that into action, so to say that I just did this thing easily would not be a correct assessment at this point. Still, I got through the song (real time: 3.42 mins, experienced time: 4 1/2 HOURS!) and started to acclimatise a little to the situation. I didn't notice Steve taking the photographs. I was way too into the whole situation and the singing thing to worry that as well. Instead, I worried about what the 2nd song should be. As I worried and tried to remember to breathe, I walked closer to the water's edge, and became aware of the waves, the rhythmic nature of the waves, and one of my older songs floated into my mind which has a very similar rhythm - Speak The Words. Here now, I stopped worrying. I listened to the rhythm of the waves and started to play the introduction, trying to catch the waves as they rush in and recede and match the song to that completely. There was just me, the song, the waves and that was all. There were moments of magic there and I thought somewhere along the lines in there that I would have to put ocean waves behind that should this ever be recorded because it worked so well. I also thought that I was playing for the sea, with the sea and that it was a shame that I didn't have a better song, a better tribute to the day, the sun, the waves and the soft wind to play. I shall have to do something about that ... When I came back from that experience, things were different. I looked around myself and smiled. What fool plays to a totally empty beach? But that's alright. Healings of all sorts can be had from other places than sitting in a therapist's office, and it was ok. I was there because I needed to be, wanted to be, and all was well.
The third song wasn't really appropriate to this day, to this environment, but I had set a task to play three songs and I wanted to follow that task as precisely as possible. There is a temptation when you do such things, when it goes well, to try and push it on further - well you can do three songs, how about ten? How about going somewhere else now where there's crowds of people "while we're at it"? But I do know from many and many more experiences that when you're dealing with a fragile new system, you need to take it easy and most of all, you need to build up TRUST. I need to be able to trust myself that I won't put myself into situations that I'm not ready for, or that I will push me beyond my limits. It is of the essence that I should *succeed absolutely* at this point; and that has to be set up and defended, so I can start to become confident in the end, and that it should be a solid confidence at that. So I bowed to the programme and played the third song, "Give Me Purple". Now as I said, that wasn't at all appropriate. A very cool song to sing with candle light in a pub at night, or round a camp fire; here in this bright, sunny winds'n'waves environment it was just weird and completely out of place. But I played it anyway, sang it as best as I could and that wasn't so bad, after all. When I'd finished, I became aware of Steve with his camera, took off my hat and smiled at him. And that concluded my first ever real "public" performance! The stones applauded mightily, and the sea rushed approval ... Phew! Steve and I sat on the beach for a while afterwards and I was very happy, calm, tranquil. I was pleased with myself and most of all that I had made the effort to get my butt out there and do this thing. It was a truly beautiful day, a perfect day, and I'm very serene, very happy right now. I look forward to doing something else next, and I guess that would be an open mike night at a local folk club. The 6 Bells in Chiddingly does such a thing, and I've been there on many occasions, feeling so sad and bitter that I couldn't just get up and sing. When it comes to it, I'm sure it won't be a question of "just" either; but I know I'll do it, and that will be another step stone. I have wanted to sing all my life, and now I'm actually doing it! It's an amazing feeling, a wonderful sense of accomplishment way beyond what others might think or say, because it comes from the inside, and this being so, no-one can take it away. Thank you for listening, and may you find a way to fill your heart's desires whilst there still is time. Silvia Silvia Hartmann In And Out Of The Studio ...
At Gatwick in April 2006, I made a bet that I would have a folk album out and for sale by Xmas. So I found a studio and a producer (who shall remain nameless!) and booked myself in to get started on the album in October. This was a very difficult experience on more levels than I would want anyone to bore with. Just one brief impression: imagine if you will that you have just sang a half hearted "guide vocal" which has been recorded, and is now being blasted back at you at the volume and thundering of an airbus taking off by monitor speakers the size of wardrobes straight in your face, over and over and over again - for SIX HOURS AT A TIME! I think I might have just died if it hadn't been for EmoTrance (God bless it, indeed, and in all ways, that's all I can say!) but I got through that part of it. What I didn't get through was the "artistic differences" I was having with the producer. I felt that he just totally didn't get the concept of the album, what the songs were about, what I was about, and for all my earnest efforts to explain this to him, we failed to communicate and in the end I pulled the plug on the project - after some 40 hours of studio time and some thousands of pounds spent, I just said, "That's it, I give up. I officially declare that I have failed to have this album done by Xmas." Hey, getting older and being able to accept defeat gracefully is a fine thing. Some years ago I would have soldiered on regardless and would have ended up with an album I hate and my nervous system in total tatters. Probably would have pledged then to never ever have anything to do with music again, as well. Now, I have a different perspective on defeat and what that is. Truth is, you're not out for the count until you're actually dead, and she who sings and runs away, lives to sing another day. November was spent writing "The Magician" which was just wonderful, a beautiful artistic and visionary experience for me, a perfect antidote to the studio misery failure thing in all ways. I would take this opportunity to thank the powers that be for sending this to me, it really was deeply appreciated. December is as far as I am concerned a total loss for personal endeavours, with that whole Xmas weirdness taking over. I take a dissociative holiday during Decembers and float through as best I can, and circle slowly to land back in my timeline or incarnation in early January. With that, back came the desire to work on the singing. I *know* there is a folk album out there on my timeline. But what I don't know is when, where or HOW. Am I awaiting the arrival of a guitar player, a band, a meeting with a producer with whom I click? Is the time not right? Is there something I have to learn or do or is it just a question of "steady as she goes" and eventually things will click into place? I have no idea. In the meantime, I thought I should practice the public performances. Having been in the studio, there was no doubt in my mind that I would benefit from more practice and also, performing in front of strangers has always been a real challenge for me. Or you could just say that I was shitting myself at the thought of singing and playing guitar in public, it would be closer to the mark. So one fine January morning I asked Steve Collins to ring up the 6 Bells at Chiddingly, which is a country pub that has an open mike folk night, to find out when the next date for this was so we could go and scout out the venue. First Gig At The Six Bells In Chiddingly
Nicola, Steve Collins and I made our way to the 6 Bells one dark and dysmal Tuesday night. The 6 Bells is a very old country pub in the middle of nowhere, but in spite of this, folk find their way there, and especially folk who like to sing and listen to folk music. I made sure on this occasion not to take my guitar, so I wouldn't be tempted; a good thing too because as it was the first folk club night in January, there weren't that many performers there and I might very well have ended up doing something I would have regretted later. We had a good time, enjoyed the performers very much and after it was finished, I had a word with the gentleman in charge of the sound system. I told him that I would like to perform but that I was very nervous and would like to ease myself into this thing, perhaps with a sound check, before anyone else had arrived. He was very sweet and suggested to come early for the next folk club night, before it officially opened, and I could have a go then. The purpose of this for me was to make an easier transition from my sitting room (where I can sing just fine!) and this place, which had mikes and amplification, unfamiliar stools, strange lighting and of course, OTHER PEOPLE who were listening. So having made this supportive contact, we went home and a fortnight later, we were all three of us back, and this time, I did bring my guitar. (As an EmoTrance aside, I noticed that I had a lot stuck energy in my fingers. As I was getting progressively more scared/stressed about the performance, energy would be shooting up from my stomach and into my neck and head, but also flow down my arms and then getting stuck in the hands because it wasn't coming out of the fingertips where the blockages seemed to be. On the way there in the taxi, this was so bad that the energy backed up and then my palms got sweaty. Seems to be the same system that causes tears - the energy backs up, doesn't have anywhere to go and then it expresses itself out with "hand tears" instead. Having such superdense energy with nowhere to go in your fingers and hands is definitely not a good thing for someone who's trying to play guitar, que? I worked on letting that flow out and remarkably, my palms dried immediately and I felt generally a lot calmer then, less trembly. Also fascinatingly, all the while I was there my palms never got sweaty again and that was encouraging in and of itself.) The man who was setting up the sound system recognised me, was very nice and then also the folk club organiser Chris arrived. He too was really sweet and supportive and so I got my guitar out and for the first time in my life, stood in a pub and started on the first of the two songs I had decided I would do, Forward or To Hell, of course. It was very, very strange singing into the empty pub and being otherwise ignored by the bar staff who were still setting up. The first song went ok, but something (I really don't know what!) happened in the second song, Purple. I lost the "G". For some inexplicable reasons, my left hand wouldn't move into the position required to hold G chord - it was just gone, I couldn't find it. Bizarre. But I didn't panic. I just realised that this was the case and played around the problem, best I could, dropping down the guitar playing into very soft strumming and making my voice take over more, playing just the top two strings of the G with the index and middle finger which where still responding somewhat, and replacing the G with an Em on the occasions where I could. So in that strange way I played right through the song, delivered the melody and lyrics with my voice as best I could and got to finish it. Nicola and Steve shouted "Yay!" and clapped in the corner and Chris said, "Hey, that was alright!" I was HUGELY relieved that I gotten through it, a little concerned about the G loss but also, really proud of myself that I hadn't stopped and fluffed around but soldiered through in a very professional manner and done the best I could. So we were laughing and clinking our glasses to the success of the mission, and I decided to celebrate by having a drink, or two, or three and enjoy the rest of the evening - I'd done it! I taken the very first and most scary step, and next time we would come back and I'd play a proper set, familiar now with the mike, the way the system made me and the guitar sound, the floor under my feet and the view ahead and around. I was enjoying myself, after numerous brandys and cokes and a few bloody marys as well, listening to the other performers and chatting with my two good friends who had been so tremendously supportive throughout this long endeavour, when some hours later Chris came over and said, "Alright, you're on after Mike is finished." WHAT?! A proper set?! NOW?! There were people now in the pub, but more than that, there were lots of performers there, and to a man, they all played better guitar than I do and would KNOW exactly what I was doing wrong! There should be some sort of rule, "Don't sing and drink!" but the trouble is, when you're already half way under the table, you don't think of such rules any longer and so I just said "Ok, Chris, I'll be there." To be fair, I don't really remember that much about the rest of this. I remember thinking that I don't know what's worse, to sing to an empty pub and be ignored, or to have a heap of people staring at you. Both are equally uncomfortable, just in very different ways! Buoyed by all the alcohol, I decided to do two rather esoteric songs, "I cannot say" and "Star", not the best choices for a country pub probably but what the hell, right? I think I managed them alright; the audience in the 6 Bells is very good, they don't boo you and they are really supportive and I got a good round of applause afterwards. Nicola and Steve were delighted and as proud of me as though they were my mum and dad! I will say this though. The truth is, I do this because I love singing. That's the truth. I love it. I always have. I get something out of it, and if there's an audience as well, this is amplified tremendously. It's a fantastic feeling when you're delivering a song well, transmitting the energy, letting it flow through you. The trouble with me is just the FEAR that gets in the way of that. But I really don't want to waste my life, being afraid of doing things that I love to do, and that's why I challenge it and do these things. For other people, singing in public is probably not very difficult. For me, it's a challenge. A big, big challenge. Probably the biggest personal challenge I've ever tackled or undertaken because there's so much involved when you stand up in front of people and you're just there, just you, having to play an instrument and singing your own song. All my worst personal reversals are present in that circumstance like they never are anywhere else. For other people, things are challenging that I find easy. But it doesn't matter what it is, that's why it is a PERSONAL challenge, right? I'm really proud of myself. I'm proud of the way I've not lost heart and hope and kept going. I'm proud of the way I've tried to help myself and to make it as easy as possible for me, taking small steps at a time, making a programme in essence that would lead me through from here to there, and which involved both personal development treatments with EmoTrance as well as real life tests and milestones such as Gatwick, the beach and the 6 Bells. I'm DELIGHTED that I have finally learned to accept the support of people who wish me well, and USE that to help me forward, rather than trying to do it all by my lonesome. Sandra and the other healers at Gatwick, Steve on the beach, Steve and Nicola all along and coming with me for moral support and strength, and Chris and the sound man - it's just incredible how much support there is from real people, and how willing people are to help you out if you just let them. It's a wonderful thing all around and so encouraging, so motivational. And on top of it all, it unfolds wonderful new opportunities and possibilities for the future. Who knows what will come from this? Who knows when and where I'll get to play my songs, and who might hear them? There is all that - potential and delight, experience and experiment, challenge and adventure out there now which wasn't there before. If you, dear reader, have a personal challenge like that, I do so hope that you'll take heart too and push it more. It's a fantastic thing to undertake these things, and it's not about "success" but really and honestly, about the journey and the future that awaits. As they say, I'll keep you posted :-) Happy songs all around, Silvia January 25th, 2007
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