God whispered in my ear today, "Start taking small steps."

Tonight, I watched the two greatest street performance groups I have ever seen in my twenty years of life. The first was a samba drum line that I could hear from my hotel. They had women behind them dressed as mermaids, painted green, walking on stilts. They promoted optimism and green-living, and succeeded through filling the somewhat shady streets with musical smiles. I swayed beside strangers and nearly cried tears of joy, and gratitude. The second group, a classical-meets-jazz string-trio-plus-piano-and-accordian, filled my heart further. Listening to them play Pachobel's Canon above the piano's strange 7th chords, I fell back in love with music. // After three years as a vocal student, I wouldn't say I am completely burnt out necessarily. I am simply more afraid. With every lesson, with every criticism, and especially with every performance of every peer and mentor that is one million times more talented and brilliant than I am, my mind fills with worry, doubt, and "yeah, maybe a 9 to 5 job after college wouldn't be so bad" demons. // But tonight, as I watched the tilted heads and swaying hips of the strangers around me, and saw the blue sky beginning to grow darker beneath the majestic castle-like Munich architecture, I thanked God - for the first time in a while - for making me a musician. Musicians - artists, for that matter - are given the great responsibility of creating these sweet moments. We are given the gift of awakening the soul. I vowed, right then and there, to get out of my head and get into my soul. I vowed to stop being afraid of this responsibility and start reclaiming it as a gift. // The person - the artist - that lives inside of my soul exists quite like the musicians I watched with awe tonight. She is brave, charming, and does not apologize for her art. The person who lives in my mind, however, never feels adequate enough to obey her housemate. There has always been a dissonance between my two halves, thus creating great dissonance between my thoughts and my actions. I write these words as if I am some great speaker, but I am not. I sing songs inside of my head and give grand performances, but it is rare that I sing in front of people except for academic credit and obligation. Who is this soul-dweller, and why can she not come out and live amongst the rest of us? // Tonight, under the brilliant sky, I decided to finally lose my mind. I sang Debussy through the streets. Quietly at first, and then slowly I became braver. I sang Debussy, and then Chausson, and a bit of Copland under a bridge. Most people walked by me, probably writing me off as another crazy person. Some stared as they walked by, a couple smiled. Most thought, or perhaps knew, that I lost my mind. I think they were absolutely right. I abandoned my fearful mind for the soul of the artist. The artist who exists somewhere deep inside, where Love lives, where the Irrational lives, where God lives. God. My soul, my music-maker, my artist. Following Him and this gift He put inside me made me, if just for tonight, a bit less afraid. Or at least I felt brave enough to make the first step toward Him. The first step toward being unafraid. Isn't that why they always tell us? In church and in the Bible? "Abandon your mind," they say, "have a heart for God and He will show you what you have inside and make you brave enough to let you live as that creation." // I always just thought that was evangelical jibber-jabber, not meant for artists like me.