Let me tell you about the day I nearly shit myself because someone asked me to sing. Not kidding. There I was, in the middle of developing my latest show, when my colleague springs this "let's sing in our clown warmup" business on me. My heart? Racing. My brain? Screaming "ABORT MISSION!" But here's the wild thing about singing – it's like emotional streaking. You're basically naked, but instead of your bits, you're showing everyone your soul. And let's be real, that's way scarier. You want to know what REALLY happens when you sing? Your voice shakes. Your palms get so sweaty you could start a small lake. That little voice in your head starts listing every single embarrassing thing you've done since third grade. Yeah, THAT voice. The one that's currently telling you that you sound like a dying whale having an existential crisis. But lean in closer, because I'm about to tell you something important: That trembling, terrified voice? That's where the magic lives.
Remember when you were a kid and you'd sing without giving a single damn who heard you? That's what I found in that clown warmup. Between the nervous giggles and cracking notes, I found something real. Something raw. Something that made me go "Oh shit, THIS is what it's about!" You see, in the clown world (my weird and wonderful home), we celebrate the wobbles. The mistakes. The moments where everything goes "wrong" but actually goes so RIGHT. When my voice cracked during that warmup, it wasn't a failure – it was a f*cking doorway. A doorway to connecting with everyone else in that room who's ever felt scared to be seen. Here's the truth bomb: Your voice doesn't need to be perfect. It needs to be YOURS. That warble when you hit the high notes? Golden. That moment when your voice breaks because the emotion is too big to hold? That's the good stuff. That's the stuff that makes people lean in and go "Oh my god, me too." Listen, I know it's scary. Trust me, I KNOW. But there's something absolutely magical about standing in front of people, shaking like a leaf, and singing anyway. It's like giving fear the middle finger while simultaneously hugging it. That day in the warmup changed something in me. It wasn't just about singing – it was about finding the courage to be spectacularly, gloriously imperfect. About letting my weird little light shine, wobbles and all. So here's my invitation to you: Sing. Sing badly. Sing loudly. Sing like you're the only one who can tell your story (because you are). Let your voice crack. Let it soar. Let it be exactly what it is in this moment. Because in the end, the most beautiful songs aren't the perfect ones – they're the ones that make us feel less alone in our beautiful mess of humanity. Now excuse me while I go practice my off-key power ballads. Comments are closed.
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AuthorAlicia Gonzalez is a clown and coach living the beautifool life. Archives
January 2025
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