What's Your Purpose [A Story About an Audition]

The other day I went on an audition for a local theatre here in town. I'd been so swamped with work that I hadn't prepared any music to sing for the auditions, so I decided to just audition as a non-singing actor and do two monologues. I figured, I'll be in and out. They'd seen me before and were familiar with my work, so I was happy to go in and give them a fresh look and then be on my way. I did my monologues and stood on my mark, waiting for the dismissive "Thank You" that we all are so accustom to hearing. Instead, one of the director who was sitting there, asked "Patrick, do you sing?"

Now, the answer to that question is much more complicated than a simple yes. I do sing, but it has never been something I've ever been confident about. Like many of my friends, I grew up in the church and had various musical opportunities singing in my church choir, in addition to being in band from middle school through college. So naturally, I've developed an ear for vocal music. I can harmonize and hold a tune. Everynow and then you might hear me wail out a nice baritone/bass medley at a karaoke night downtown, but I don't consider myself a "singer." 

Even in college, I sang briefly with the world renowned Morehouse College Glee Club (Baritone, Choir 2) and eventually became a member of Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia Fraternity of America, Inc. I grew musically through both experiences, but being surrounded by so many other extremely talented vocalist made me second guess the abilities that I had. Several of my frat brothers have brought me to tears with their vocal talents, and as far as everyone else was concerned I was the frat brother that was "in theatre". Always considered more of and actor, than an actor who sings, I never was expected to go to above and beyond the basic vocal requirements of what needed to be sung. So I didn't. I was content for quite some time.

So there I was....this director had posed this question to me and I stood there and said, "Well, I like to consider myself more of a Michelle or Kelly than a Beyonce." They laughed, which is what I wanted. I went on to tell them I was more comfortable and confident in my other talents than my vocal abilities. "That's a shame," the director continued, "I really would like to hear you sing."

Now, I'm no fool. So I obliged his wish and sing something I knew was full proof to make me sound good enough. When I was finished, the director said this, "Very good son. You know there's a big difference between our talents and our purpose. You should think again about what those are to you."

I smiled and was dismissed and exited out into the blistering Florida heat, with his words in my head. They still sit there days later. What is my purpose and what are my talents? Are they the same? Am I not seeing something. Or even worse, refusing to accept something? I think this is a part of the journey for every artist. For years and years, we want to say something so deep so profound that it will touch people forever, but maybe what we're thinking we're supposed to do if for some one else, and what we've been ignoring all along is exactly what we needed.

There's always enough black to go around.

Pat