On being haunted by mediocrity

On a Friday morning, I woke up at 5, got ready, gobbled breakfast and opened up my laptop. I had signed up for a music recital, which was scheduled for 6am. In keeping with modern times, this one was going to be a virtual hangout with a bunch of people singing on video conference.I had practised as much as I could, but that was still less compared to where I wanted to be. I steeled myself for this experience, because it was going to be humbling on many levels. Even so, I had no idea of what awaited me.

To give the reader a little background, I had signed up for an online music class and have been learning for a few months now. One reason I hadn't signed up for an actual class was that I didn't want to face the reality of kids under 10 singing better than I ever could. This online class was a blessing: with a batch size of one, I only ever had to face my teacher, and I was content in this virtual bubble. The problem is this: I find it extremely difficult to manage the assignments and classes with work and everything else that constitutes life, yet I'm trying to find that sweet spot where I can juggle everything, but it isn't easy. There are days when I find it extremely stressful because I haven't practised enough.

My husband asks me: What's the point of a hobby if it stresses you out more? A hobby is meant to relax you, not add to your list of woes.

I don't have an answer. Even with a hobby, I can't stop being obsessed by excellence and perfection. Therefore, anything I do never feels good enough.

Back to the present, I'd been thinking about how this would feel for a week. I would be singing to acclaimed teachers, people who performed in concerts day in and day out. What if they said I wasn't good enough? Would I have the courage to continue? What if I lost the urge to sing forever?

I was very tempted to cancel, and remain in my comfortable bubble. I was lying in bed late last night, when I received a mail. It was from my teacher: "Namaste! Best wishes for your recital."

That did it. He'd thought I was good enough to be singing at the recital, and hence had nominated my name. He's always encouraged me, telling me that I have the potential for far more. If he thinks I can do this, I should at least do him the justice of trying.

And so you find me here, logged in to the web conf at 6am. I saw 20 people, 15 of whom were kids under 10. The coordinator called upon the first one to sing, and it was a kid of 7. She did such an amazing job that I wanted to cry at my crippling incompetence. The teachers heaped praises upon her, and she was overwhelmed with joy. I turned off my video, the urge to sink into the earth getting stronger. A huge cloud of nervousness crept upon me and enveloped my soul, till my hands turned clammy and cold. I knew that whatever I sing now would be sub-optimal, far less than what I was capable of. The performances went on, each better than the previous, the feedback glowing for all of them, and I sat there numb with trepidation, almost wishing they'd miss out my name. Adding to that was the fact that most of them had chosen complicated 5 minute long pieces to render, while mine was a ridiculously simple piece  which would last 1 minute at most.

I heard my name, and almost froze. The moment was here. I sang, and as expected, it was nowhere near perfect. I rushed through it,forgetting to savor and enjoy--a beginner's folly, arising from the need to get it over with as fast as possible. I waited with bated breath for the feedback, waiting for the disappointment to crush my soul to silence. I got a lot of feedback on how to throw my voice, breath control and alignment with tala, along with a few good words. Me being me, I questioned if the good parts were thrown in out of pity, just so that I would find the strength to continue learning. 

I sat there for one hour afterwards, listening to this score of people, each of whom were better than me. I felt incredibly sad, and thought of giving it all up. Maybe I wasn't one of those gifted people, I wasn't made for singing. God knows, it would make my life easier.

I kept playing back those 5 minutes, trying to find something good.I remember one thing from that multitude of faces though: there was one kid of 8, who after I finished singing, smiled and clapped. That was not forced, it came spontaneously. He really thought I did a good job. I know that's pretty little to cling on to, but it's something. I tell myself that excellence does not come from nothing, it comes from hours of grueling hard work and perseverance. I had no right to crib about being mediocre if I didn't try enough. And if I tried to the best of my effort and was still mediocre, should I really feel bad? There would be nothing else that I possibly could have done, so what would be the point of blaming myself? I pull myself up by my bootstraps, so to speak, and force myself to get out of that spiral of gloom and depression and good-for-nothing feeling.

But this is something I struggle with, even in things I do for pleasure. I aspire to be perfect, and anything less feels frustrating and drives me to despair. Is this a vice or a virtue? Feel free to let me know.