I was cautioned once by a friend that I should be careful about showcases and competitions. At the time, I didn't really know what he meant, but I have a taste of it today.

I just performed in the Susanne Millsaps Performing Songwriter Showcase, which was sort of a dream of mine.  I went to that competition, as a spectator, several years ago and was blown away by what I saw. I  was reduced to tears by the performances I saw, and I recognized myself in the performers on the stage, when I had never seen myself in that way before.  To be invited to perform on that stage was a tremendous honor and probably one of the "great accomplishments" of my life.  I stood up there and I felt like I was giving my very best.  I had no veil of shame, no shyness, no shred of that feeling that somehow it was a mistake that I got there.  I felt like I was doing my job.  It was thrilling.  And then, they announced the "winners."  And I wasn't among them.

It is not that I have disputes with the judges.  I think that the  people who were selected were selected for good reasons.  I probably would have selected them myself.  What I am struggling with is the juxtaposition of this thrilling experience of doing my best and the terrible experience of "losing," all in the same experience.  And it was, for the most part, completely artificial.  In addition to that, I'm not happy with my own ugly feelings during the competition.  For a moment, my relationship with my fellow finalists was not friendly.  I really didn't like that about myself.  The auspices of a contest brought out some ugliness in me.  I am ambitious, but I don't want to be jealous.

I know some people who have won contests.  I have seen doors open for them, but they still have to work it.  Some of the people I know and respect in this business have never been recognized in a contest.  All of them sell CDs, they make a living, people speak highly of them, they have connections all over the world.  None of them need a label or a ribbon to put them there.  They do it with their own smiles, their own lyrics, their own power.  They work hard.

I went to a workshop hosted by Ellis on Friday, and she talked about mission.  We all have a mission when we go up there and sing.  I'm not sure that I've been pursuing a mission, but I think that I could fairly say that it had something to do with seeking approval.  Like me.  Tell me that you love me.  I'll share something of myself, now, please, tell me that I belong. This is no way to live.  I haven't yet found my real "mission statement," but I know that it can't be to beg you to make me a real person.  I'm taking that out of the equation.  I am real, I don't need you to make me real.  I am good, I don't need you to make me good.  I have a product to share with you, and I will bring you joy, if you listen.  It is not my business to wonder whether or not you are listening, or even to care what you think of me.
 
I played a gig this morning and my friend Big Al gave me a big hug and he said "something is different."  Can it be that this mental shift is so immediately apparent?  I don't know, but I'm going to go with it.