As I was walking towards Minard last night for the open mic session, my heart was wide open.  The bigness of life surrounded me.  All was well.

Inside I introduced myself to Kevin, the host for the evening.  He seemed like a nice guy.  I enjoyed talking to the fellow beside me and the couple behind.  I sipped my ginger beer and watched the music and poetry of the first three performers. 

And then a break, after which eight of us would take turns standing onstage for three minutes during the open mic part of the evening.

My heart was reaching out to whomever I beheld.  Soon it was my turn at the microphone … and I began loving the whole audience.  Thoughts such as “How well will I do?” were far, far away.

I said a few words about John Denver, who wrote the song I was about to sing: “Spring/Summer”.   I invited the ones sitting before me to sing the chorus, and demoed the words …

Oh, I love the life within me
I feel a part of everything I see
And oh, I love the life around me
A part of everything is here in me

Time to begin.

(Ten seconds of me silently gazing at the audience)

I smiled

“I forgot the words of the first line”

(Ten more seconds)

I raise my index finger

“I remember the words!”

And I sang

***

Those were precious moments at the beginning.  I stayed open within the not-remembering.  I didn’t go to “I’m bad.”  I trusted that life onstage would work out, that the universe would provide … and it did.

***

I’d noticed that for some previous open mic performers, Kevin had walked to the front and sat on the stage as the three minutes approached.  Once he stood up, right beside the performer.  The signal for “Time’s up.”

My turn.  Here he comes.  A smile within the singing.

Kevin sitting on the stage.  Me singing the last verse (to be followed by the chorus).

Kevin standing up and sidling up to me as these words were about to emerge:

And oh, I love the life around me
A part of everything is here in me

A tiny part of my brain thought of turning to Kevin and singing the final words to him but I’d be turning away from the microphone, and the audience wouldn’t hear.

So I kept facing forward, put my hand on Kevin’s shoulder, and heard myself sing a new final line:

A part of everything is him and me

We laughed

The audience laughed

Life is good