The Pain of Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve…

20 May

“We seem to have evolved into a society of mourned and misplaced creativity,” writes brilliant classical pianist James Rhodes in his recent blog for the Guardian.

“Find what you love and let it kill you,” he says, quoting Charles Bukowski. It’s a wonderful, inspiring piece about hurling yourself into the creative abyss.

His journey has been extreme and harsh and total – and he’s a truly, truly phenomenal pianist.

“Is that not worth exploring?” he asks us, recounting how he pushed his dream away, burying it beneath the pursuit of security and self-worth.

“…only when the pain of not doing it got greater than the imagined pain of doing it did I somehow find the balls to pursue what I really wanted…”

Follow that Dream

Years ago, one of my teachers, Arion Light, told me to find the flavour or “essence” of whatever it was I was wanting. At the time, I felt sad and trapped; as though I was an actor who had wandered onto the wrong stage. I told him I wanted a better job, a bigger apartment, to be more successful, more important, more, more, more. I thought that in order to be loved, to be worthy of it, I had to be “someone”.

The essence – what I really wanted underneath that – was to feel loved.

 The irony was that I was using all these things that I didn’t really want to try and show “the real me.” As though once I hit a certain level of success, it would be ok to take some time off to do what I really wanted to do.

The “real me” actually just wanted to relax. To step off the mouse-wheel of crazy she had created for herself. To take long walks and indulge her baking habits. To have enough time to play on her yoga mat, to sit in meditation without an alarm set, to not be rushing all the time.

Next Vacation

It’s amazing to me the things I have denied myself because of this kind of thinking. I love to sing but for years, I kept it as a secret little side project. I was afraid of the life that I thought a singer would have. I didn’t want a life of touring and endless practice and being told what to do. I was convinced people would tell me to lose weight and change my appearance to be successful. That I would be judged.

So I didn’t sing.

But when I look at the essence of singing, of what it is to me – it’s connection. I want to sit on warm beaches and sing harmonies with people. To re-capture the feeling of singing in four parts like my family used to in the car on holidays. To look into the eyes of people in the audience and see that they too, connect with that song.

I love encouraging groups of people to sing from their hearts, with passion and freedom. Especially people who say they can’t sing. To see their faces crack with smiles as they start to feel what I do: that they are a source of love and energy.

I had these misguided ideas about what needed to happen in order for me to be able to “be” a singer. To “be” a yogi. To “be” happy.

Reading Rhodes’ piece reminds me that we always have the opportunity to challenge our idea of what we think we “should” be doing.

“What if rather than a book club you joined a writer’s club? Where every week you had to (really had to) bring three pages of your novel, novella, screenplay and read them aloud?”
“What if, rather than paying £70 a month for a gym membership that delights in making you feel fat, guilty and a world away from the man your wife married you bought a few blank canvases and some paints and spent time each day painting your version of “I love you” until you realised that any woman worth keeping would jump you then and there just for that, despite your lack of a six-pack?”

What are you making yourself feel badly about? What secret closet do you keep shut tightly, for fear of exposure?

What joy could you surrender to, what gift could you share with the world, if you just got out of your own way?

“So write your damn book. Learn a Chopin prelude, get all Jackson Pollock with the kids, spend a few hours writing a Haiku. Do it because it counts even without the fanfare, the money, the fame and Heat photo-shoots…”

It’s your life. Isn’t it worth it?

Having a rough morning?


10 Responses to “The Pain of Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve…”

  1. Rosie Rees May 20, 2013 at 7:52 am #

    Fantastic blog. Resonates with me right now xx

    • misscorellian May 20, 2013 at 11:09 am #

      Thank you! I was a bit scared to post it, which is usually a good sign 😉

  2. chris hamer May 20, 2013 at 6:18 pm #

    I was entranced by you as you sang the KPG blues to me while I strummed
    I loved you while you held me and sang ‘Killing me softly’
    Two moments of joy for my soul
    Thank you x

    • misscorellian May 20, 2013 at 6:20 pm #

      It was as joyous for me! Hope we get to do it again sometime…Will you visit the Bay this summer? Xx

      • chris hamer May 28, 2013 at 11:40 am #

        I’ll be there for January and early Feb. Hopefully our paths will cross again this year. x

      • misscorellian May 28, 2013 at 11:48 am #

        Oooh, I hope so! Summer on the Bay = ❤ & Happiness 😉 Xx

  3. Irene May 21, 2013 at 10:54 am #

    I always knew the “real” glad your letting her shine for all to see weeeeee. Love you lots, always and forever. Paz y amor xxxx

    • misscorellian May 21, 2013 at 11:04 am #

      Love you too, lady. Thanks for your support! Xxx

  4. yozica May 21, 2013 at 8:50 pm #

    Loved reading this. x


  1. No More Shoulding | Getting Better, Man - June 11, 2013

    […] The Pain of Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve… ( […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: