Stage Fright; No Matter What Stage of Life You're In
by Kazarian
Most of us have experienced it: butterflies in the stomach,
heart-rate racing, cold sweat dripping. It’s stage fright and for
countless numbers of people, getting up in front of a crowd is feared
as a fate worse than death. Even the most seasoned professionals can
suffer from performance anxiety. Indeed, many people thrive on it,
addicted to the “thrill of the show.” (For those readers who have never
experienced the buzz that one can get from giving a good performance, I
hope you get the opportunity sometime.) Most of society though has it
pretty well set in their minds that doing anything in front of a crowd
is not fun.
At the heart of stage fright
is the fear of exposing yourself, making yourself vulnerable before
other people. This can be exciting and liberating, but it can also be
very threatening. “What will people think of this other side of me?”
“Will they still like me?” “What if I make a mistake?” These are common
internal questions for a performer, and like most things that happen
“onstage,” there are lessons and links to real life, life “offstage.”
The majority of people do not pause to consider that most of the time,
they are onstage. We commonly play many more roles than any experienced
actor does at one time. It is very rare to find a person who wears no
masks and has the stamina and bravery to be who he or she really is,
all the time. Indeed most of us have a hard time being real with
ourselves, let alone being real with everyone we meet. In psychological
terms, we present our public persona and rarely reveal our anima,
our soul. It can be very easy for persons to use a persona so
frequently and with such conviction that they begin to forget who they
really are and lose themselves in their own insecurities.
The URANTIA Book
presents a collection of twenty-eight of the planet’s highest
philosophical thoughts in a section titled “Morontia Mota.” Number 15
states, “Affectation is the ridiculous effort of the ignorant to appear
wise, the attempt of the barren soul to appear rich.” From the point of
view of this planet’s greatest thinkers and beyond, our pretentious
presentations are not much more than socialized chicanery, putting on
shows to mask our insecurities.
In The Book of Tea,
Tenshin Okakura writes: “We never forgive others because we know that
we ourselves are in the wrong. We nurse a conscience because we are
afraid to tell the truth to others; we take refuge in pride because we
are afraid to tell the truth to ourselves. How can one be serious with
the world when the world itself is so ridiculous!”
When I was younger, I thrived on the ridiculousness of the world. Jaded
by what I saw, I placed more value in insanity and worshiped the absurd
because it mocked the offending world. Instead of succumbing to
conformity, thus rendering myself ridiculous, I actively clung to
trivial non-reality because at least I knew that my life lacked
meaning, and perhaps there was some hidden meaning somewhere in that
meaningless excuse for reality. How absurd indeed.
Recently I have enjoyed watching The Last Waltz,
Martin Scorsese’s film of The Band’s 1976 farewell concert. Unlike many
of their contemporaries, The Band knew that sixteen years on the road
had begun to get the best of them. They decided to invite an all-star
cast of performers to join them onstage in one last performance on
Thanksgiving. The film is filled with musical magic, but one moment in
particular touches my heart. The Band offers up a heartfelt rendition
of “The Weight” with family gospel group, The Staples. As they are
holding out the closing strains of the song, in grand-gospel style, one
of The Staples utters, “beautiful.” My heart melts because I can hear
the honesty in the woman’s voice; she is genuinely moved by the music
and expresses her sincerity.
When we start
to get nervous about going “onstage” in front of the audience of
humankind, let us remember the honesty that we can muster for the sake
of others. Instead of focusing on our false identities, let us discover
who we truly are. Entreat others to open up and share their thoughts
and feelings. Get real with yourself and those around you.
The celestials look down upon us, hoping that we will one day attain
this level of interpersonal honesty. An entire order of angels is
devoted, “to help you ‘to see yourself as others see you’ and ‘to know
yourself as angels know you’.”1
1 The URANTIA Book, p. 553