Lessons from Karaoke

Maybe karaoke really is Japanese for "You're doing it wrong," but three things I noticed while out with some friends at a karaoke bar seem bigger than karaoke. So this week I'm sharing them with you so that they might have an impact in your non-karaoke activities. And mine, too.

When I looked at the head-spinning array of songs in their catalog, I found myself thinking Ah! I know that one!, only to realize as I thought of the tune that I didn't really know it as well as I believed. I knew the chorus perhaps, but not the verses. Or I knew some words, but couldn't for the life of me remember the actual melody. Disappointed, I kept searching for another song that I actually knew with a little more confidence. My mind sometimes thinks I have knowledge that I don't actually have.

Having experienced getting up on stage and singing, I may actually try one of those almost-familiar songs next time and see what happens. Who knows? The lyrics may all come rushing back. But being on the stage has challenges all its own. For instance, I couldn't actually hear the key of the song I was singing when it began, I just had a general sense that there was accompaniment. So I started in what seemed like the appropriate key and went for it. As the music became more distinct at the chorus, I realized that I was way off. But I couldn't quite make the shift to a new key until I stopped and listened for just a moment. Then, I jumped back in, more in sync with the accompaniment. My mind had been so locked in to what I was doing, that I couldn't comfortably make that shift without a little break in my own inertia. When I realize I am off course, sometimes the best thing to do is stop and get my bearings -- rather than continue to barrel forward.

The greatest phenomenon of karaoke bars is that everyone gets acknowledged. Whether you sing a song like the original artist or your performance lacks any recognizable melody or rhythm, people will acknowledge you. And the applause and cheers are quite sincere, even if someone tanks. Sure, people may really go crazy for a great performance. They also recognize that it takes guts and commitment to even be on stage in the first place. You might not be ready for American Idol, but it is an accomplishment just to get up and do your best. It doesn't cost me anything to acknowledge someone for doing their best, and there will probably be someone in my life to recognize me for stepping forward.

And even if there isn't, the whole point behind the evening was to have fun, and it was obvious that people did just that. People who were natural entertainers and people who were singing on a dare. And it was fun for everybody, whether we were on stage or enjoying someone else's performance. Of course, there is a little anxiety that goes along with any kind of public performance, but the bottom line is: Life is too short not to enjoy what you are doing. When I am willing to have fun with everything I choose to do, my whole life perspective is transformed.

Lessons in Partnership

Some significant experiences this week have centered around leadership and partnership for me. In general, I have been forging ahead on the things that are important to me, accomplishing meaningful goals, and soliciting feedback from others. It's been rather different from waiting for feedback or approval before I take a step, and I am finding it to be invigorating and fun. Here, briefly, are a few brief situations and what I have been getting from them.

Charging Ahead. One person this week asked whether I was just charging ahead and doing my own thing rather than accepting partnership from others within a group. My first impulse was to be defensive, but it didn't take much to see that this person was expressing a desire to be a part of what I was planning. I was giving people something to notice by being proactive. And I was very much wanting that kind of partnership to surface, so it was easy to receive.
The activity of moving forward toward your vision attracts capable partnership more than inspiring words alone.

The Critic. I showed a project to a friend this week, and his feedback was initially enthusiastic. As he continued, he became a bit reserved and was hesitant to say something critical about what I had created. In the end, he was able to provide some great constructive observations that will help me continue to improve upon things. His critique was oriented toward building up what I was doing, rather than tearing it down, and that contribution is incredibly valuable.
When you share what you are creating with others, their perspective can provide fuel to carry you forward in your endeavors.

History Lesson. In a conversation about future plans for an organization, some historical data was brought up. Instead of treating it as "the way things must be done," the discussion was geared more toward the question of what has worked well in the past and what hasn't. There was a great deal of honesty in that perspective, and knowing the history of a group or situation can help make decisions wisely. Historical data becomes detrimental when we ignore it or blindly adhere to it.
Know your history... create your future.

My own self-criticism is that these little vignettes are a way of avoiding getting something deep from the experiences, but I truly have found value in realizing how vital it is to take action while embracing partnership. And I am now on the lookout for more opportunities to partner with capable co-creators, insightful critics, and those who have gone before me to create the foundation where I stand. My path is my own, but the journey is made richer by appreciating a wealth of fellow travelers.

The Phone Call

I want to tell you about a phone call I had a few days ago, but first I want to give you a brief update of where things stand. I recently signed a 5-year exclusive contract with a publisher for one of my pieces. This is an incredible stepping stone, and I am very excited about the possibilities that can spring from it. It means essentially that I have an advocate for my music who has contacts and connections that I don't. And he has a vested interest in getting my music heard.

The Envision Coaching Solutions site is on track, with a target date of June 7 for the first official newsletter. I've been working on a free download to provide to people who sign up for the newsletter, and I am very pleased with what I have put together. It is very rewarding to be consistently following a realistic plan for this endeavor, and I want to share the whole process with you soon. For now, I'll just say that a big inspiration for the site has been David Wood's book, Get Paid For Who You Are.

So now to the amazing phone call I had last week. Over the past several months, I've been reading a lot of books about entrepreneurial skills, leadership, and success. I really value what I have been learning, but I don't often give the authors of these books much thought beyond assessing the credibility of what they've written. As I was marking my place in one of those books, I noticed the author's bio on the jacket cover and saw that he was local. I decided that, when I finished the book, I would give him a call and let him know how much I enjoyed it.

Well, I made that call just a couple of days ago, and I was completely unprepared for how rewarding it turned out to be. I simply expressed my appreciation for what he had written, and I told him the biggest lesson I had gotten from the book. He commented on that insight. Then he took things a bit further and dug in with me about owning some of my personal advantages. It was one of those conversations that just helps things click into place mentally. Before we hung up, I asked if there was a way to keep posted on local events at which he would be speaking, because I want to let other people know about the opportunity. As a result, I wound up getting invited to an event I would never have known about otherwise.

I walked away from that call ready to embrace my strengths and find more opportunities to connect with people in a meaningful way. At the time, I thought it was a bold move to pick up the phone and call a stranger to say how much I appreciated his book. When I think about it, who wouldn't want to take a call of gratitude from someone? It was still a different behavior for me, so it seemed to be riskier than it actually was. And getting past that perceived risk was incredibly rewarding.

By the way, the author is Garrison Wynn, and the book I was calling him about is The Real Truth About Success. You might have your own set of people to connect with. Expressing sincere gratitude is not as risky as you might think.

A Terrifying Acknowledgment

When I was teaching college courses a couple of years ago, students would occasionally ask how long they were required to wait if I wasn't around at the start of class. The policy (anecdotal at least) was that students should wait 15 minutes for a professor with a Master's degree and the entire class time for a doctor. Since I had earned my terminal degree, I advised them to wait for me unless I had officially canceled class. This policy seemed unfair to some of them, perhaps even like a sort of forced respect, but it never really came into play. I was almost always early to classes I was teaching.

In fact, I am almost always early to everything. I suppose I have thought of it as polite or even respectful not to make people wait for me. I certainly waited for a few professors in graduate school, but only on a rare instance did it seem to be an inordinate amount of time. With regard to my own classes, I considered it a matter of respect to the students to start on time. I wanted to cover a lot of material, and I wanted to take advantage of every moment I had to convey that material. But I wondered recently if my sense of self-worth hasn't at some point crept in to the practice of being early, or at the very least, on time. Was I really worth waiting for? Do I arrive early because I believe I may not be worth the wait in other people's eyes?

Saturday, I accompanied about 50 young musicians in a solo and ensemble contest. In the morning, I played for students from one school's band program, and in the afternoon, I was with students from a different school's orchestra program. Plans had been made in advance to ensure I would have about an hour to get lunch in between, and I had the schedules in hand a few days ahead of time. I rehearsed with each of the students twice over the previous two weeks, so we were well-prepared on that front as well.

The judges took a little more than the allotted time with each student, which is par for the course at these events. Many of the pieces selected by the students (or their teachers) were longer than the actual time slot, and the judges typically want to give some valuable verbal feedback to students in the moment. What I didn't expect was that we would be almost an hour behind schedule by lunch time. I had ten minutes to scarf something down and get to another part of the building where the orchestra students were being judged.

Except that the orchestra students weren't in another part of the building. They were at another facility entirely, about 15 minutes away. I learned this at precisely 1:00, when I was supposed to be accompanying the first student of the afternoon. A director offered to make a phone call to the other school as I rushed out to the car and spent 20 minutes in heavy traffic mentally deriding myself. I had simply assumed that both groups of students would be in the same place. I may have heard differently at some point, but I didn't have anything written down. Now, I was holding up an entire afternoon that had been carefully scheduled because of that assumption.

I arrived at the site where the orchestra students (and parents and judges) were waiting and parked as close as I could to the front door. As I rushed up to the door, I saw a sign that directed contest participants around to the side of the building. My mind was going crazy with criticism and my heart was pounding. All of the personnel for the contest and the families of every student I was accompanying were being inconvenienced by my error. By the time I found where I was supposed to be, I was easily half an hour late. I exchanged a few words of explanation with the orchestra teacher, and I went in with the first soloist of the afternoon. And that was it. They waited for me, and once I arrived, things got back in motion.

While I don't want to become less intentional about when I arrive or how I prepare for events, the whole experience has given me an opportunity to acknowledge the value that others place on my presence. I want to be more conscientious about the details for future events, especially if there is limited time between commitments. But I also want to appreciate the respect I receive from others. When it comes down to it, I waited on my professors because I valued what they had to say. If I didn't, I probably wouldn't have shown up to class in the first place. What I have to contribute has value, too. And I'm more likely to bring myself fully forward when I recognize that.

Personal Cheerleader

My nephew at the zoo.

During time with family this holiday season, I had the distinct pleasure of my four-year-old nephew's enthusiasm as I was introduced to Wii bowling. Although he was not playing the game, he was an utterly engaged observer. Every strike or spare I scored was accompanied by cascades of cheers and accolades from him with sheer abandon.

At first, I was taken aback. For the briefest moment, his excitement seemed like a distraction. That was a short-lived reaction, however, and I began to playfully join in with his applause, more as a way of interacting with him than anything else. A little while into the experience, though, a strange shift began to occur. I found myself appreciating his unwavering delight in my successes as the game went on. Even his laughter when I missed a split completely was light-hearted enjoyment rather than ridicule.

I don't hold on to any illusions that he will remember that experience watching his uncle play a video game; my score surely wasn't an accomplishment that ranks with my proudest moments. And yet, there was something so invigorating and delightful about having a personal cheerleader focused entirely on me for that brief time. It's great motivation to keep letting people know about the things I am creating that really matter to me. I tend to convince myself that other people don't really want to hear about what I'm up to, and I could be cheating myself out of that incredible level of energizing support.

At the same time, as I am connecting with other people, I want to have the same level of enthusiasm and delight that my nephew exhibited. It can sometimes be tempting to think that I have to focus on what I am creating and that I can't let myself be distracted by just being someone else's cheerleader. Honestly, I know that there is plenty of time and energy for both. And I'd be very curious to see what we could all create with a little extra concentrated encouragement on a regular basis!

Being

There is a philosophical conversation about Doing and Being that has been parodied by popular culture, but I never really thought about it much aside from laughing at somebody's T-shirt. As a person who is often accomplishing things, working toward goals, measuring progress, staying focused, and yes, getting driven at times, there has never really been a reason to consider whether doing or being was of primary importance.

Now as a result of several recent conversations, I find myself in the midst of a rather powerful realization. I have been getting several messages that I am appreciated for who I am, for the attitude I bring into an environment, for my "energy." And although I am tempted to define this as my purposefulness or a drive to get things done, I realize that what is meant by this word is actually closer to "spirit." I am appreciated for my spirit. Huh.

I don't think for a moment that people don't appreciate the things that I do to make a positive contribution. I hear that message, too. But this whole idea that who I am is valuable in and of itself, apart from any achievement... that just having my natural attitude and being in my natural spirit has an impact... that's something that I just haven't listened to before. I get it, and it makes complete sense to me. But I'm not used to it.

Some wise person once said that 90% of life is just showing up, and I am recognizing that I can have an impact when I am willing to show up with my full self. I will still accomplish things, because I have passions that propel me and energize me. I know I'm not defined by what I have achieved, but I guess knowing something and living it are sometimes two different things. So, now I that am really getting the message, I am happy to be. And I am grateful that in that simple willingness I can make a difference.

Wings of Appreciation

I didn't plan on doing much work when I got up today. Still feeling kind of lousy, although not terrible. There were noisy workmen tearing out the rotten, fed-upon parts of a wall, and they needed the A/C turned off because of the dust and debris they were kicking up. I couldn't go anywhere while they were working, and the piano was covered with a drop cloth since it's in the room with the tasty wall. I was pretty much ready to write the day off from the word 'Go.'

Then I opened my email. In it was a note of appreciation for my music from someone I don't even know very well. This came on the heels of an unusual compliment I received last night, when I heard that my piano CD had kept someone from buying a shotgun to deal with Houston traffic. (The details may have been tongue-in-cheek, but I believe the compliment was sincere.) It reminded me that what I create has value to other people, that I am connected to people because of what I choose to put out into the world. Appreciation has tremendous power. I have a tendency to gloss over appreciaton sometimes, but when I really take in that what I have done (or just who I am) has meant so much to someone, it reawakens me to my calling as a human being.

Already feeling my creativity smirking at me a little bit, I went ahead and read today's note from the Universe:
When your peeps ask you what you do all day, every day, Randy, you do tell them, "Whatever I want." Right?
Because you do.
I love these things. Some of them don't pack much of a wallop for me, but more often than not they remind me of something about myself that energizes me and gives me another reason to smile. Alright, whatever I want, eh?

So I spent the day working on music (Dreamsong 17) to submit to a call for pieces to be used in a sci-fi series. I had fun. I still wasn't driven about what I was getting accomplished, or what I needed to do. I just enjoyed myself. Hopefully the fruits of my labor will have a positive impact on someone else as well. But even if today's efforts don't reach many people, I know that creativity fuels creativity. The work I did today was building toward something I'll eventually create that I can't even see yet. And I'm already excited about it.