That is a quote, I believe, from the great Unitarian minister Forrest Church.
Yesterday my partner was talking to me and she said "You have so much". Some of this was in connection with her sadness over age and infirmity, which I, despite having, at 60 totally aged out of the serious "emerging pro" track, no matter how well I keep singing, still haven't experienced yet. At least not the "infirmity" part, beyond not being able to easily walk up and down stairs, or being able to walk at all in high heels.
I have a choir that I love, friends there that I respect who respect me, friendly neighbors (not to mention a rent controlled apartment in a prime location in Manhattan), work that I can do at home, and good health.
So why do I keep grieving over what I don't have?
Yesterday I posted a status update on Facebook where I asked "Is letting go the same thing as giving up?"
After my bad experience with the opera production, I began asking myself, should I give up the idea of singing opera forever? An odd question, because the things that are so strenuous about opera (mostly the murderous range and stamina level required)were not relevant in that situation.
Why can't I just be happy singing church solos? There's a lot of great music out there - Bach, Mozart, Rossini and more - none of it requiring me to sing above a G sharp, or even an E or an F most of the time.
And if I can't sightread (I have a sightreading book at home but have never been able to muster up any interest in it - I'd rather learn a new aria) I do a pretty good job of faking it.
What's interesting, is that, apparently unlike many people, I do my best if I am not surrounded by people who do everything better. That just intimidates me. For example, one of the unpleasant things that happened in this opera situation involved an ensemble section, which I had worked on at home with the recording, and thought I knew, but suddenly was unable to sing surrounded by other singers who appeared to have more confidence and knowing that this conductor had his ear pealed for me to make a mistake. Yet the very next week when I went back to choir, I was able, in an almost identical situation, to hold my own on the second soprano part, which I had never sung before other than with the recording, because I knew I was the one people would be leaning on.
So what is it that I want that I don't have? I know I will never have a "career" and interestingly, I don't much care if I get paid for singing or not. I do still have an overpowering yearning to sing certain roles but, well, I can do that. I sang Dalila, didn't I? It would have cost me less to produce Carmen in a church than I spent on tickets to this opera production that I will never get or sell even if I got them.
I guess what I want is respect. Surrounded by conservatory graduates, YAPPers, and "emerging pros" (never mind the real pros) I feel that I am nothing. It's funny. I feel that not only do I not have a future, but I also don't have a past. Until I started frequenting the Forum, I never realized that the places I sang in the 1970s were laughingly referred to as "the opera underground" and thought of as some kind of a joke. So an experience that used to make me proud (that I had sung this or that role) now has been reduced to an embarrassment.
I just am feeling very small right now, like I want to curl up in a corner.
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