On Busking: The courage to play
I sit in Amsterdam, after an afternoon of playing music in the streets.
When I started this morning, I didn’t have concrete plans for what to do. I arrived to my hotel, and the one thing I knew after dropping off my luggage was that I needed coffee. That became the mission. I didn’t want to leave my guitar in luggage storage either, so I brought it with me. Perhaps there was a small inkling that I might play. I haven’t played for most of this week, so the craving is there.
But I should say that busking is new to me. I can likely count on my hand the number of times I have done it out in the world solo. And at this stage with it… I notice lots of internal processes and thoughts happening before I make the decision to do it.
It takes me some time to actually take the leap. The idea has to come up a few days beforehand. I look up if there are any laws against performing in the city I’m considering. At this stage I’m not even sure I will make time for it.
I have seen only one other busker since I’ve been in Amsterdam. Which surprises me. There is a bit more comfort in numbers. Even one more hurdle that had to be crossed.
But once the thought is out there in the ether… I just need the right ingredients to appear.
Time alone in the city
With my instrument
Good location
People
And even when all that magically aligns (like it did today outside the coffee shop I found), the nerves still show up.
I scan the scene: it’s a gorgeous sunny mid-morning. There are tables and benches outside right next to the canal. Tours are coming through, there’s clearly history here. It’s not too noisy, an open public space with the perfect backdrop of an Amsterdam canal.
I make up my mind, pull out my guitar on a bench and tune her up. Then scan again. Is this the right moment? The guy on the bench next to me is side glancing me, wondering what’s up. All I have to do is get up and set up my station and start playing.
Easy enough right??
No. It doesn’t feel easy. Haha!! The first song, the first notes, standing up and putting out the guitar case and making the statement “Here I am! I’m going to play some music for you all!” (no I don’t actually say that :) ) Here in this foreign city where I know no one. Will the people like it? Will the restaurants nearby ask me to pack up and leave? Will police or authorities get called? Online assured me not, but who knows. You have to be ready for rejection in that situation and do it anyway.
This is one way I’m practicing being in raw exploration with my craft.
And once I finally begin?
Thankfully…
Easy!
It flows. People smile, children come up and excitedly put coins in my guitar case, some of them dance. Couples stop and sit on the benches nearby and grin at me, singing along occasionally. There is now music, connection with the group atmosphere, where there wasn’t before. It’s a little slice of magic. I just had to move through all the what ifs and the nuggets of fear, and put myself on a stage that I created.
There is such a reward for the work. It’s a growth edge, and every time I do it, it gets the slightest bit easier. And I’m sure that if I keep doing it, rejection will come at some point. But there was a mantra that we all embraced at a recent tantra temple night that I went to. - “Try to get at least one ‘No’. Maybe you can get 5!” Give yourself permission, celebration even, for finding ability to face the discomfort of rejection. Maybe if you celebrate how you handle it - it won’t feel so bad.
So I think I shall keep playing, seeing which songs make people the happiest, and what other gorgeous places I can bring a singalong to, smiles and dances.
Moving through fear, to joy, and ready to celebrate the “no” if and when it comes. A lot of the work I do with coaching clients and retreat participants circles back to this same root. It feels good to pause, reflect, and share this story, simply to say that I’m right here, facing these edges too and learning to welcome them.
