Liz Frencham

A girl and a double bass.

A girl and a double bass.

Together We Fly

Since the epiphany of the last post it's like seeing the world with new eyes. 

So many things that didn't even register before look like miracles. Water from a tap, sliding between fresh clean sheets after a long day, creamy espresso drizzling from the group head on a frosty spring morning, green shoots stretching head and shoulders out of newly tilled earth. It all seems different in the light of here & now. Everything seems special when you open your eyes with an attitude of wonder and gratitude. Sure. The anxiety, fear and depression habits are still there and deeply ingrained, but there is a part of me set apart. A patient, gentle observer, holding my hand and telling me quietly and succintly. "You don't have to go that way."

The other interesting phenomenom is that I have been discovering just how many subconscious 'rules' I have been holding my self accountable for. 


-You must answer every email with sober, considered replies at least the length of the enquiry. If you can't find the energy to do this immediately after first reading the enquiry then you are a 'bad' person. 

-If you don't interact with every person that crosses your path with maximum-strength-sunshine-y attention you are a 'bad' person. 

-If anyone who interacts with you is not happy as a result of that interaction it means that you somehow mismanaged the encounter and you are therefore for some undisclosed period of time a 'bad' person. 

-You must have a selfless reason for saying no to anything and subsequently fullfil every 'yes' undertaking with stellar flair and within deadlines or... (you guessed it!) BAD Liz.

I could go on and on, but instead I choose to draw a line in the metaphorical sand of my thoughts. It's this kind of immense psychological pressure that laid me out flat not once but twice in the fortnight before my current tour. A constant worry that I wouldn't be prepared enough and that I wouldn't be perfect enough. 

Strangely though, when some of these fears were lived out in full colour the result was far from disasterous. The reality seemed stark. I WASN'T prepared enough, I was sick  for a fortnight up until the day I drove to Sydney. But my shows so far have been full of the kind of humour, shared energies, and group collaboration that I love. The absence of tightly reigned, rehearsed precision has left room for last minute jams, spontaneous stories, birthday cakes, songs with plastic cups and so much laughter! Devoid of my heavy expectations I am indeed naked but gloriously free. Armed only with raw instincts I have had to listen harder, open myself wider and trust my fellow musicians more than I ever have before. The result? All around me have flowered in the light of that trust and the whole has become so much greater than the parts. Together we have flown, and fallen and dusted ourselves off to fly again.

So farewell to 'bad' Liz. I'm just Liz. Whether flying or falling, I get by with a little help from my friends.