Singing opera requires effort

On Friday evening at a black history event in a large brownstone owned by a middle aged white man where a Yale professor gave a slide show with music to an audience of scholars, locals, musicians, artists of varying ages and sizes and colors, I met an opera singer.

Things I learned from her that I didn’t know about the opera profession:

Opera singing has less to do with the size of the lungs or the position of the larynx than the shape of the face, and the way the sound reverberates in the cheeks, jaw and cheekbones. She indicated that her face was wide from ear to nose, and from eye to jaw. She didn’t look particularly wide/long faced to me, but I took her word. She had a loud voice.

Interested in the processes that a person follows in choosing their career, I asked, at what age did she notice that her voice was different from anyone elses, and at what stage did she decide to pursue opera as a profession?

She said ever since her youngest school days, when singing in groups, her voice had overpowered those around her. In an attempt to assimilate her, the choir master surrounded her with older, bigger singers .

At 16 years old she made a decision to become a singer of opera music. There are plenty of people capable of singing in this way, but few who actually train their voices. The ability to hold each note, to project the sound, to carry not only a song but a story - all these things are learned and require constant refining and constant practice.

This is something that she is constantly explaining - that the voice is not 'natural'. The latent talent was there, which then required honing and polishing through specific techniques and training. The finished product is manufactured.

In New York, opera singers like her work as contractors, slowly building names for themselves, filling in for other opera singers should they become ill. She is her own secretary and agent (although I'm not sure all work in this way.) She is young, mid twenties at a guess. Next year she has a contract that guarantees her work for 12 months. She is greatly relieved.

Here is where this relates to flow - I asked her why she does this for a job, given the risks, the potential for not 'making it', or for being sidelined through sickness or something outside of her control, for being a pawn to other people's tastes.

She explained simply, but with a smile - because there is nothing like being on the stage and singing your heart out; the complete absorption in the theatre.

Flow - effort and concentration, doing something that absorbs you, for tangible, measurable effect. She has to concentrate, to be completely dedicated and when she is performing, be absolutely, deeply immersed. It requires effort, long hours, dedication. And the pay off, besides the obvious appreciation of the crowd, is doing something she loves as well as she can.

If opera singing was 'natural', I doubt she'd be singing now.

The Preposterousness of Celebrity

Okay, this post got a little out of hand...grab your coffee....

Is there a tipping point when fame becomes a hindrance to happiness?

At the TONY Awards after party I think I hindered the personal happiness of Cynthia Nixon, who played Miranda Hobbs on Sex and the City. I don't watch much TV, and never read celebrity magazines. Which is bad luck for those involved in shows I DO watch, because they become a focus of intense adoration. If I ever meet the creators of South Park...my mind becomes confused at the number of ways I could embarrass myself....

Miranda I loved especially- her dry wit, loyalty to her friends, her vulnerability and her courage. Me and Miranda had been through a lot. Seeing her sitting at a nearby table (and having finished wolfing down my assortment of food from the buffet) I dithered, enquired to Danny as to the least offensive way to approach her then launched over to her table. Of course I knew it wasn't 'Miranda' but some part of me wanted to connect to the person I already felt so connected to.

Above is a pic of Danny (the friend who got us into the Tonys) and I. Okay you can't tell we're at the Tony's but we are. We were z-list so went in the back door.

Ms. Nixon kindly set done her cutlery and waited for the diatribe, which I, crouching beside her chair, promptly provided: "I know it was a long time ago but I loved the show, Miranda was my favorite character, wanted to thank you blah de blah de blah.."

She crinkled her eyes at me and thanked me. I added a little blather. She picked up her fork. I duly got up from my crouching position, and as her friends at the table sighed....I suddenly realized I had NO IDEA who it was that I had just spoken to. As a reasonable judge of people's underlying feelings and thoughts, I would also say fairly accurately that while my approach was not hostile or aggressive, it was trying for her. SHE KNEW that I had no idea who she was. There was disappointment and disillusionment on one side, and a kind of gentle, tired resignation on the other.

If I'd have approached this with more wisdom, I'd have thought about what it was in her rendition of the character of Miranda that touched me so much. What aspect of the thought and effort Cynthia put into her work that carried over into the heart of one person watching. Really, it was irrelevant that Miranda was MY favorite character. From her perspective, if indeed I was thankful, I was thankful for her creating a character that helped me (and my friends) through some tough times, made us laugh and entertained us. It was her skill in her craft that allowed that to happen.

The point is, my immediate reaction was obviously a common one. How many fans really think about an actor's motivation or skill behind the weaving of character? The very nature of celebrity ignores these aspects, instead focusing on the person as worthy of attention purely because a lot of people recognize their face.

Fame in most senses is a one-sided relationship - where the fan has a relationship with a celebrity, based on his or her perception of how that person relates to his or her life. They have a history, but it is all one-sided.

Sure, the more savvy fans would restrict their emotional ties to the character, yet so much in our society promotes adoration of the protagonist. To whose benefit?

Walking away from the table, not only did I feel a trifle silly, I also felt a twang of empathy. Remembering the times I'd been approached by overly-friendly people who had no idea who I was. Usually in such cases I jump to the immediate conclusion that they are going to invite me to their church, or to join a pyramid shopping scheme. Now imagine being approached by 10, or even 50 of those people per day!


The next night, I was at another event where I happened upon a man who was a big part of my favorite film of this year, the documentary Air Guitar Nation. Bjorn Turoque (not his real name...duh) has made the art of air guitar his life's focus.

Air Guitar Nation chronicles the American regional try-outs for the world Air Guitar Championships, and the finals in Finland themselves. Without ruining the film for you, lets just say Bjorn puts in extraordinary effort - an almost maniacal focus and belief in himself as the best, despite what the judges may think. The below pic is of Bjorn Turoqe (right) with arch nemisis C-Diddy.

When I mentioned that I'd seen the film and it was my favorite of the year, he said, with some disappointment - "Yes, you were only one of the two people who saw it." (Incidentally, probably because of how he was portrayed in the film, I didn't have any overwhelming desire to make a complete gushing idiot of myself this time. It was, I think, a fairly normal conversation.)



It's unlikely you've seen the film; it had only limited release. So you'll have to trust me when I say that Bjorn desires fame. It is apparent in his words, and more so in his actions. There is a desperateness portrayed in the film - he seems to be seeking not only acceptance, but adoration. Which is not unusual. After all, isn't that what we're led to believe celebrity generates?

If Bjorn really had fame, would he really want it still? Would the outpouring of goodwill and curiosity increase his level of happiness? Almost definitely it would leave him wanting more, as the adoration would be hollow. That is, his fans would adore him, but not know him as - and this is my assumption - he wants them to. This is DESPITE him being in a documentary; the portrayal is still just that, a cut and pasted character that propels the storyline.

And if it is art we're adoring, really, would his fans appreciate the intricacies of the air guitar moves he pulls out? Is that a really silly question? Or am I giving higher credence to Cynthia Nixon's almost 30 year career purely based on my own paradigms?

Does the desire for external approval correspond directly with the amount of art and skill required to perform the role? In other words, if you're really passionate about something for reasons other than gaining fame, does external approval matter? If the skill requires concentration and sweat, passion and internal rewards, what affect does it have when other people compliment your work? And, if the practice, whatever it is, is fairly easy, requires little thought or effort or talent...do we then need more or less approval in order to feel happy in ourselves?

Could Flow be a critical factor in the personal well-being of celebrities?

Did Tolstoy crave fame? Michaelangelo? Do U2 or...Bic Runga or the Killers or (insert great living jazz legend) create music so that people will know who they are?

What about Britney and those like her whose songs are not their own, who mould their careers around what will bring in the most public attention... Was the catalyst for her 'fall' the realization that the adoration she craved was empty? Was it because her 'art' couldn't hold her up on its own? Then again, plenty of talented actors/musicians etc fall into drugs and alcohol and depression. Perhaps the aggressiveness of fame, the momentary elation that always needs to be surpassed next time to gain a greater high, overwhelms the internal processes and parameters.

Celebrity is pleasure versus gratification at its most grand and terrific. And in this case, the pull of pleasure is so intense and so powerful...even many thoughtful, talented and committed people fall to its endless cycle of distorted emotion.


Given all of this, in my opinion (which may change!) the best sort of fame must be that which is devoid of personality, yet still recognizes the efforts that go into the art. It must be based on a sense of flow, the intense effort and concentration tied directly to personal, internal rewards. Recognition is not in itself a bad thing, I think. Nor are compliments where given truly.


And for fans, it is best to do no more than appreciate what is on offer, and not to try and work out the person beneath. That person is none of our business - it is their art which they have shared freely, nothing else. And the art should be enough.


Phew...

Damn it, where IS my Mind?

I've been on a quest to find my mind this last weekend. I wish I'd known how hard it would be. I wish they'd named the Retreat a "highly concentrated and mentally demanding weekend", because then I'd have rested-up first and not chosen THIS weekend to finally give up coffee (again).

At the new and rather glitzy Buddhist Kadampa Center about two hours north-west of New York, deer roam free, frogs grunt happily and a proliferation of bugs of various types celebrate their unassailability. Our group of around 70 enlightenment-seekers drove up in our various 4x4s and Fords, and set up our beds in a 'barn', which was more like an upper-class hostel, or a low grade motel without the mini-bar. My new friend Enny, a psychologist, perceptively pointed out that there no Jackie Collins books on the bookshelves.

Briefly, and far too glibly, were we here to embark on the path to enlightenment through a practice known as Heart Jewel. In essence, we were looking to be on a more intimate basis with our mind, to understand the nature of reality, and begin Tantric study. (No, this isn't an orgy retreat; "tantric" is just one of those oft-maligned words) This practice builds a foundation on which to layer the Dharma - the "right way of living"- through kindness, generosity, confidence, wisdom and love - so as to benefit ourselves and others.

This is a tough course - some Buddhist groups never bring up the subject with all but the most experienced practitioners. It's relatively easy to 'watch the mind' during meditation. For instance, realize the breath, note the thoughts, experience feelings all as being from the mind - being mindful. Now, take a step back. Watch the watcher. Change perception from the perceiver to the perceived. Find the mind itself; a clarity in which perception drops like water into an ocean, or clouds dissipate into a clear sky.

While I brought my best mind to proceedings, my best mind was not in very good shape. It was tired. It was annoyed at itself for not being able to find itself. It was trying very hard to at once relax, and seek itself out. It was me, I am it, it was in there/me somewhere!

In between two-hour sessions we ate fresh vege stir-fries, curries and for breakfast, cereals with fresh fruit and yogurt. The food was good; cookbooks lined the shelves in the dining room. I played with the cat and listened to the frogs.

I brought my frustrations at my lack of Mind to the Minds of a lot of patient people. And it became very clear that my frustration was natural - for many people it takes years rather than days to achieve that peaceful, clear state. One new friend even said he found the process joyful (at which point I realized I was probably mucking the whole thing up right from the beginning!)
Phew...cool...and I still hadn't had a coffee.

So, the rest of the day I concentrated, and eased off on myself. It was a whole lot better. I brought in other aspects of the teachings to my meditation, visualizing my highest potential, even joining in some of the singing. Letting go the bag of up-tight-ness I didn't even realize I'd brought with me.

Additionally, I learned that our teacher, Kadam Morton, (a most eloquent, funny and humble teacher who mixes Dharma teaching with Beck lyrics) is a roller-blader! In fact, he roller-blades to each teaching in the city, cross-town in Manhattan. Now I'm even more impressed with his spiritual audacity!

Sunday rolls around and I'm starting to recover from the week... my concentration is improving as I let myself relax, my visualisations carry me through the next few hours. I'm more aware of how I respond to people, I'm more aware of my thoughts. But it feels like just the beginning. And I have to leave early.

I say good bye to the frogs and the cat and the monks and all my new friends who, if you put them together anywhere else you'd be mighty confused as to how they knew each other. Unless it was in an airport.

Ironically, I'm leaving early to attend the "glamoros" TONY Awards - and wishing I had more time..... YET absolutely certain that I should leave now, instead of staying for one last sessions and cutting it fine on the way back. That's one benefit of meditation for me - better, quickly and more concise decision-making.

I'm writing this with one mind and many memories. If I wrote it tomorrow it'd be different (and maybe better). If you're reading it, you're reading it with your mind of today, which is different from your mind of yesterday and yet is also the basis of your mind tomorrow. How well do you know your mind?

I'm definitely far from enlightened, except to the fact that hippie retreats are damn hard work.

Inline skating - trying to flow and not fall over

As an added incentive to my desire to learn how to roller-blade, (inline skate, whatever) I'm looking at it in the context of Flow.

I heard that blading tutors gave free stopping lessons in Central Park, so after making a plan to go up there one hot Saturday, telling people at lunch that I was going, getting on the subway...walking over there....I was definitely hoping that it would rain. Really suddenly and really hard.

I did end up rumbling down a very slight hill with my instructor, Michael, guiding me...and me being VERY aware of actually listening to his instructions rather than drifting off. The below photo is not me, but I pretty much looked like this...(photo by Kim Moran)

Being in flow requires absolutely no emotion, and total concentration. So, I'm concentrating pretty hard and have graduated from the learner's area to a hill that leads down to the Park proper, and I'm supposed to be using my brake on and off, like in car...but I sort of veer off and start speeding up and can't brake or I'll fall over and start yelling obscenities in Michael's direction (not at him; wasn't so silly as to insult my potential savior...) and break out into a flash-flood all-body-sweat ....before he eventually does save me. Being petrified surely counts as an emotion? In which case this whole 'experiment' is likely to be irrelevant as well as traumatic.

Michael told me not to panic. THEN he said - how about doing a loop of the park? Nutter! - There's a hill right there, and another further on!

After much persuasion (and me debating my own dedication to this flow rubbish) off we go.... The loop was a short one - about 25 minutes - but with plenty of sloping hills. Plenty to scare the crap out of me, leave me crimson-faced and dripping and shaking, legs going even more spastic than usual.

A couple of times Michael saved me but all along he chatted to me and asked if I was glad I agreed to this. And after I again went too fast and couldn't brake but 'hunkered down' (with Michael yelling 'hunker DOWN! hunker DOWN!') and not crashing into those people or that stroller and not falling over..... I was glad I was at least trying.

The other pay-off was me doing something that I had said to myself (and others) that I would do. I knew that at the sniff of any little excuse I would have high-tailed it home and 'made up' for it by cleaning my room or doing the dishes.

Going round Central Park was a grade beyond my presumed capabilities, something I had thought impossible to do NOW. The pay-off was correspondingly large. Whether or not I was in Flow some or all of the time is debatable; I was certainly too busy trying to stay upright to notice anyone else. And, now, a week later, I'm actually looking forward to trying again. Well, maybe THAT is extrapolating, but I'm not dreading it.

Michael wouldn't take the money I tried to push on him, but offered to come blading with me again. So I guess there's some positive pay off in teaching something new to a sh*t-scared, potty-mouthed, sweaty and spastic-legged foreigner ...

Flow

Bit of background on the concept of flow...

Here are the key components of flow by Martin Seligman:

• The task is challenging and requires skill


• We concentrate


• There are clear goals


• We get immediate feedback


• We have deep, effortless involvement


• There is a sense of control


• Our sense of self vanishes


• Time stops

Flow is the difference between a philosophical conversation or gossipping about celebrities; between background Muzak or picking apart the different elements and melodies produced by a jazz ensemble, or creating the music yourself. Flow is cooking a full meal rather than ordering take-out. Flow is utterly absorbing, yet contains no inherent emotion in itself.

Flow was proposed first by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi ("cheeks sent me high"). It is the state entered into where no emotion exists, yet our mental (and sometimes physical) faculties are absorbed into an immense concentration. It delivers measurable results, and involves risk of failure. Engaging in flow frequently has been shown to improve long term happiness.

For me, writing this post is an example of flow.

Here's a thought (well, new for me)... considering the above, it strikes me that there must be levels of flow. That it is possible to engage in pursuits that have meaningful results without COMPLETE concentration or loss of the sense of self. I'm sure for instance, that a cabaret singer is at once involved in flow, yet utterly in sync with her own reactions to the audience, and their reactions back towards her.

Listening intently to music versus creating music itself.... surely the latter involves a far greater depth of flow (and therefore greater mental rewards). It would follow that the more intense or difficult the activity, the greater the concentration, and the greater the reward.

Someone old (I know, I never said this blog was about total accuracy!) once was asked how she lived to such a great age and kept her mind agile, to which she replied - "Every day I pray to God to send me something difficult to do, and every day he provides".

As part of my self experiment, I'm going to try and choose flow whenever the option presents itself. Then I'll describe how the activity influenced my mind, my body, and my mood. My aim will be to measure both the short and longer term benefits (over say, months rather than hours) of the activities, and further define the 'best' sort of flow for me.

Another article from the American Psychological Association here