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I always wanted to be a rock star. I remember spending a whole winterish day seated on the pavement outside some concert venue with a few friends in high school. Inside the pockets of our smokey vintage jackets: general admission floor tickets to see The Strokes.
We saw the band arrive for their sound check. They walked by and waved, at home in our adoration.
While they sat in their green room later, we sprinted to the gates at the foot of the stage; and watched the opening act warm up the twelve foot high speakers which, I’m reasonably sure, permanently changed the way I hear.
The first thing to know about green rooms is that they’re not usually green. Apparently, there are many theories on how this backstage place got its name, but all agree it is a before-and-after place; a place of calm (ideally) preparation prior to take off; a place of soft landings after the flight.
The flight, of course, is the performance. It’s Julian Casablancas six feet away from you, curved over a microphone singing: “When we were young, oh man did we have fun.”
Recently a wise person in my life gave me some parenting advice.
During a conversation about logistics, they pivoted into a discussion on my parenting - and wondered aloud whether treating my role as parent would feel better, if I approached it more like a conductor?
Inhale.
Even gently delivered parenting advice usually hits like a bullet.
Complexity abounds. But this advice came from a trusted source, so I thought about it. A lot.
And at my next choir rehearsal I watched my conductor closely, as we worked our way through Mozart and Bach. He never stopped leading. When we finished one cadence, he was ready with the next page reference and measure number. He had us sit and stand and sit again. We rehearsed thousands of notes, in an order of his careful choosing, to reveal the form, the secondary themes, the modulations of each piece.
He was unequivocally in charge. In the way, I suppose, a parent should be?
Exhale.
Every parent must lead. We are the cornerstone, the pulpit, and the steeple in the family church. We are the common denominator in our children’s physical, emotional, social, moral, creative and academic growth.
Surely conductor energy helps with all of that. Surely running dinner time like a musical rehearsal sounds like a good idea.
Parent: “Time to eat!”
Kids: munch. munch.
Parent: “Dishes to the counter!”
Kids: tidy. tidy.
Parent: “upstairs for showers!”
Kids: march. march.
For some of us though, always conducting feels like a lonely echo chamber. We find collaboration more intellectually and creatively fulfilling. We hunger for a deeper connection with our little musicians, to merge with them even.
We want to be a part of the music.
It’s me - hi. I’m the problem, it’s me.
And so, while I appreciated the feedback (actually) about conductor energy, I also had some resistance to it.
It was a week later, driving to yoga, when it hit me. My conductor energy could use some work, yes. But more than that, what I really need is more green room energy.
Green room energy is breaks.
Green room energy is prioritizing mindful preparation and reflection.
Green room energy is creating space and time for zoning in and zoning out of parenting responsibilites.
Parenting, I’ll have you know, is not Mozart. It’s Stravinsky. It’s Wheels on the Bus performed backwards with a costume and extravagant arm actions.
It’s The Strokes world-touring their debut album in 2001.
Chaotic. Organic. Breathtaking.
And existing in that breathtaking chaos - excelling in it even - is not quite being a rockstar. But I’d argue it’s just as exhilarating.
And personally, I am finding that spending a little more time in the metaphorical “green room” is amplifying my ability to show up better for my kids and my life.
So, wherever there’s chaos for you right now, my gentle, unsolicited advice is to ask yourself -
Where do I need more conductor energy?
Where do I need more performer energy?
Where do I need more green room energy?
And then give yourself the unapologetic leadership, the embodied delivery, the unplugged recuperation that you need.
And whatever you come up with, know that I am cheering you on, and I would love to hear about it.
Allison
PS To experience my choir in action, come see us!