Man oh man, performing is an interesting thing. I suppose it’s like a drug to be as cliche as possible, but performing is a rare breed of high, that you can’t get anywhere else. That’s what makes musicians continuously return to the ever powerful stage, to get that high again that is only offered there underneath the hot lights, sound bouncing back into your ears, eyes all fixed on you. It’s intense to say the very least.
When you don’t get that high like you did the night before, it can be disappointing. People gush over how fantastic it was, but you can’t help but feel they’re lying to you, or that they’re saying it because they have to, or feel obligated to.
Of course this isn’t the case, and more often than not, unless you have a very “off” show, people are still thrilled at the idea of a live performance, but it’s that inner struggle with the connection to the work itself that can be devestating for a creative spirit.
I always want to go “there” to that holy place when I perform, but I realize if I did all the time, all magic would be lost. I would probably become bored with it, much like anything else I conquer.
But it’s the thrill of not knowing what’s going to happen, feeling on the edge of the universe, wondering if you’ll fly or topple that keeps you pining for the overwhelmingly exhilaration of it all.