The fatigue has accumulated over the last week.  This morning I was wondering why.

And the word came to me: performing.  For five of the last six days, I’ve presented something to an audience.

Wednesday – Play and talk about the cello to my Music Theory class

Thursday – Play “Tango” for my teacher and fellow cello students

Friday – Sing “Song for a Winter’s Night” at an open mic evening

Sunday – Be a “darshan host” during an online Evolutionary Collective retreat.  Darshan is a tender, largely silent practice of connection among seven participants.  The host needs to do things in a sensitive way.

Monday – Be a Zoom host for an Evolutionary Collective meeting.  Lots of tasks, sometimes coming at me quickly.

In each of these events, I experienced pressure.  Fear.  I put myself on the hot seat.  I did some things well.  I also made mistakes … and kept going.

It often seemed that I wasn’t getting better at these things.  The disappointment came.  After that, an “Oh well.  I shall continue.”

As a teacher years ago, I was in some sense performing every day.  But it was different than now.  I was comfortable in my role, in my knowledge, in my skills.

Ten years ago I retired, and the sense of being in front of people in a public way disappeared.  Very little stress.  Very little asked of me.  Was that the good life?  Not really.

There’s a sweetness about experiencing the pressure of now, knowing that people are counting on me.  Blowing it here and there … and lifting my head once more to face the next moment.  Acknowledging when I’ve served the audience or participants well.

Right now I’m sitting

And I feel tall