I'm
not sure how I ended up at a Tony Bennett concert. I know
I wanted, very much, to be sitting in that auditorium, grooving
along with Tony… I just can't quite remember how I came to
want to be there. For the duration of my previous thirty-four
years on the planet, Mr. Bennett and I had coexisted in blithe
disregard of one another. But sometime during that whole "Tony
duets with K.D. Lang and other hipsters" period, I must
have glimpsed him on MTV and thought, "Man, that cat
may be old enough to be my grandfather, but he can really
fill out a suit!"
In any
event, there we were, and Tony did not disappoint. Backed
by a tight little trio, resplendent in his tux, his silver
hair glinting in the spotlight, Tony was The Man. The incandescent
smile. The leonine grace. The "I'm just happy to be here!"
demeanor. And by God, the man could sing.
But here's
what I remember most about that night, and what has made me
proud ever since to be, like Tony, a Leo. At the end of every
single song — like a gymnast who has just stuck a dismount
— Tony opened his arms, lifted his chin a little, and just
beamed. He radiated dignity, poise, and sheer delight in the
act of entertaining. There was no façade of cool, no
embarrassment, no condescension toward the adoring masses.
Tony loved singing in front of people, plain and simple,
and people loved hearing him, and no one had to feel embarrassed
about it. It was a big old lovefest.
But so
many of us — even Leos! — are embarrassed by our desire to
express something about ourselves and to have it embraced
and applauded by others. We tell ourselves we are not artistic
and sit on the sidelines jealously muttering about those who
got in the game. We create, but refuse to share our creations
with others for fear of rejection. Or we share our artistry
but adopt a desperate pose of cool, pretending it is beneath
us to care whether others respond it.
How often
do we simply stand in front of an audience, looking great,
doing our best, sharing everything that is in our hearts and
trusting our audience to love us back? For most of us, not
often enough. It takes a lot of guts and conviction to take
the stage and offer up a part of one’s soul.
Then,
too, there’s the tricky art of self-promotion, of finagling
a spot on the stage in the first place. I’m giving this a
lot of thought these days because I have a book coming out,
which means I’m spending a lot of time trying to figure out
ways to promote it. No one tells you about this part of the
publishing process, when it is suggested that you write a
book and you foolishly accept the challenge.
Writing
a book wasn’t exactly a snap, but at least it was work I’m
accustomed to. In due course I finished obsessively rearranging
words and sent my little book to the publisher, who accepted
it for publication. A quick moment to rejoice. A long wait
while it made its way through the digestive system of a publishing
house. And finally, days from now, a crate of pretty little
books with my name on them.
But the
real work, it seems, is just beginning: getting people interested
in reading the book. This means - shudder – marketing.
Cue visions of endless cold calls, pressing of bookstore owner
flesh, attendance at professional functions requiring a skirt
suit and a stack of flashy looking business cards….
Sadly,
the untidy, solitary Unibomber-esque lifestyle that serves
me well as a writer is a liability in the marketing department.
I spend my days slothing around in leggings and whatever shirt
I spilled my morning coffee on. I’m not sure I even own a
skirt anymore, let alone something that could be described
as a suit. I certainly don’t have any business cards. And
like many people who choose to spend their days alone, writing,
I’m shy. In short, I’m no Tony!
Enter
the Full Moon in Leo, cracking opening up the old heart
chakra and demanding random acts of senseless creativity and
an awakening of jubilant spirit. Simultaneously — and this
is key — we’re summoned to honor the Sun in Aquarius
side of the equation by presenting our hearts’ work to a wider
audience, where it can connect us to kindred spirits. Even
(heaven help me) if it means digging up a decent outfit, planting
a radiant smile on my face, and making public appearances.
As we
get older it’s easy to overlook the value of having fun and
feeding our creativity, because the grownup world of work
and mortgages doesn’t generally encourage such things. But
turning your back on your creative spirit is much riskier
than the possibility of being rebuffed, ignored, or ridiculed
for your efforts. Because once you stop engaging creatively,
you're near enough to dead.
Consider
this Aquarius/Leo Full Moon a sneak peek at next month’s Solar
Eclipse (February 6), which ushers in a two-year journey
of eclipses in Aquarius and Leo. Something in you that’s creative,
something that wants to connect with like-minded others and
form powerful networks of affection, is about to break loose.
All the
more reason to brush off your dancing shoes, blow the dust
off your guitar, unearth those acrylics from the closet, and
tell us your story. Celebrate your inner artist at this
Full Moon, and share it with someone you trust, or maybe
with people you don't even know. Don't be bashful — as long
as you communicate truthfully and from the heart, you will
eventually find your audience. After all, Tony Bennett didn't
become cool with the MTV generation by trying to be Eddie
Vedder; he did it just by being himself and doing exactly
what he'd been doing for years.
So what
if you don't fill out a tux quite as nicely as Tony (and frankly,
who does?); look your best, be yourself, do your very finest
work, and take a bow. And as you open your arms and lift your
head high, I'll just bet there will be someone around to give
you a round of applause.
