Something happened during the final bow of the performance last night. The lengthy pose toward my floating feet sent a clean rush of blood to my face, stimulating the nerve endings in the scalp and flushed cheeks, thus activating the tear glands. By the time I stood upright there were wells of water about to breach the levees of my eyelids. I had good reason to be emotional. I had owned the silence in the illustrious Royal Albert Hall in London, a feat any lifer behind a microphone would consider a proud occasion, even if only for a few seconds.
Did this really happen? I asked my Self this question while doubled over in repose, calmly dodging the rounds of applause. It does happen. It did. And then came the realization standing up, “It is happening.”
In that moment the brain fought to figure out what next; sort of a fear mechanism designed by, “how am I gonna top this?” Ultimately gratitude seized the experience and won the battle inside and that moment became exactly what it was. A proud moment shared with the 3500 in attendance. The result of a day lived wholy and a song sung truthfully.