secret songs

I’ve been writing more music recently - which is something I keep quite secret. My most public performance to date has been a 15 second Instagram story that I was tempted to delete a few hours later. It’s hard to feel confident about what I have to contribute to a musical space that’s so saturated with incomprehensible talent. I don’t pretend to be a great singer, but I love to sing. I don’t pretend to be a great guitarist, but I love to play. Is loving to do it enough to say, “I am” and not “I do?” Been thinking about that a lot recently. If the arts are gatekept, I’m the one holding the key.

I so admire people with the courage to share their artistic voice and trust their authenticity. I wish I was more courageous. Brave. I tried going to an open mic once but got so nervous that halfway there I got off the bus and went home. And I don’t even know what I’m so afraid of. I think moving through discomfort is usually the prerequisite to finding the most fulfillment. If life requires a push, I’m the one asking for a countdown at the cliff. But when it comes to playing music in front of people, I don’t.

What I know though is that life is so short - shorter than we can comprehend. I asked my dad the other day, at 73, how old he really feels. And he said 30. We only have one chance, and I’m so scared of wasting time. I want to be bold enough to live my truth, but sometimes it’s hard to tell if I’m lying.

I’ve always identified as a behind-the-scenes person. Instead of performing in school plays, I did costumes. Instead of public speaking, I wrote the speech. Instead of playing at the recitals, I stayed home. Maybe that’s why I love building and restoring pianos with my dad. Getting to touch the pieces and parts that a musician needs to make the sound. It’s amazing to know the intricacies of how something so complex actually works. In this way, it feels like I’m holding the key. But I think I’m realizing I want to be on the other side of gate - I want to be the one playing too.

The other day I picked up my dad’s old acoustic though and started writing - it felt good to play, and I was reminded that the reason I love music so much is for the catharsis. The peace that comes with writing a poem that becomes a song, the quiet that comes with knowing my feelings found a home in a lyric, and the way it feels to create a sound that fills the empty space in my bedroom. It fills something in me too.