I do wonder why I say "yes" sometimes. It sounds fabulous at the time, can you do such and such, can you speak, can you perform, can you sing, we'd like you to......
The immediate reaction of course is self-flattery, a complacence almost (ahem, seriously, I'm that good!) followed by terror, self flagellation, endless streams of internal criticism, fear, anxiety, a search for a believable bailout of the commitment and on it goes.
Oddly enough I don't have the same kind of fear when speaking about my personal addiction recovery journey, reading from my work, singing in my now shaky tenor voice or performing a set piece.
But this latest is a talk on my life, my journey from Ireland to Canada and my own life lessons, highlights and struggles and darkness, until finding myself and my long buried spirit on the Edge of the Atlantic in Newfoundland.
To reflect on my life is an interesting journey when it comes to an audience. I can be funny, but not forced funny, it usually happens spontaneously. So much has to do with the audience. I can always "feel" a room or a hall or a theatre. Warmth, chill, approval, judgement. I remember speaking once to a hall full of men, middle aged men. They all sat with their arms folded across their chests, waiting, watchful, grim, as I faltered and stuttered in the arctic atmosphere. I remember speaking to a crowd who loved me from the moment I said hello and howled and applauded at every word I uttered while I glowed and plumbed a wit I wasn't aware was in me. And all in between.
And yes, I'm preserving my anonymity on the poster though I know a few of my readers know my full name. So today I am working on the speech and along the way someone will record me and maybe, if it's anyway decent, I'll put it on here on a podcast.
And yes, it's a thrill, to be given a chance to share my life story from a completely different angle, so to speak.
Meanwhile throw the odd kind thought my way.
