Back in May of 2024, I was reminded that there’s a fine line between terrifying and exhilarating.
I was in Santa Fe, attending a five-day MEA workshop, Finding Your Rhythm in Midlife and Beyond, being led by Chip Conley and Michael Franti, the world-renowned singer, songwriter, and performer. After a tumultuous five years, I’d come seeking a mental, emotional and spiritual reset, having survived two bouts of cancer and losing both my brothers to a rare form of dementia. Plus, for the past decade, I’d been writing about national politics and the regular doses of toxicity had taken its toll. I was ready to compose my next chapter.
The first night, our cohort gathered outside at sunset and were given incense sticks to write a word in the air to set an intention for the week. I don’t know why, but I spelled out S-I-N-G, a spontaneous rather than intentional choice.
The second day, we did a ritual to release an ingrained negative mindset that no longer served us and embrace a new positive one to help navigate major decisions, challenges and changes. Standing before a fire, I threw in a piece of a paper on which I’d written, “I have trouble making big decisions because I care too much about what others think about me.” As I watched it burn, I declared aloud to my cohort members, “my new mindset is YES!” Little did I know.
On the third day of class, Michael was leading us in a group exercise to find our voice and share our life experience aloud in a song. My immediate thought on this assignment was NFW. But the universe and I had conspired to set me up.
I watched as one person after another in my group bravely vocalized their stories with Michael strumming softly on guitar and gently guiding them forward. Finally, he asked if there was one last volunteer and as I sat there, I realized that if my word was Sing and my new mindset was Yes, I’d be a fool if I didn’t seize this opportunity. Gathering my courage, I piped up, “I’ll do it.”
The thought of performing in front of an audience with a professional musician went to DEFCON 1 on my risk meter. Fear of public speaking, or Glassophobia, is the most common phobia; its effects can range from slight nervousness to paralyzing panic. Now, multiply that anxiety level exponentially and you have Decantophobia, the fear of singing in public.
Michael strummed a chord and encouraged me to find the note. I began searching for it, cringing when my voice quavered or cracked. Yet, I felt the love and support from him and my group and finally, found a scale I could navigate. I might have been a little off key, but Michael said, “you got this,” and suddenly, I was transported, ready to speak in a new language. By the end, my voice soared, as I unearthed this new plane of expression.
Michael’s music is all about bringing out the best in ourselves and others and as I got to know him, I witnessed his kindness, generosity and joyfulness. While singing in public was totally out of my comfort zone, he helped me break through that barrier and see that my own playlist is always right there, and to sing it loud, no matter what anyone else might think. I’d been granted freedom for myself and freedom from myself. Not just a singing lesson, a life lesson.
Now, fast forward to March of 2025. My wife and I are on a vacation in Southeast Asia to celebrate my 70th birthday. We’re at a small floating market outside Bangkok having lunch, sampling dishes that we pray aren’t blazingly spicy. As we eat, I notice a large video monitor with words I can’t understand and a big speaker playing Thai music. I don’t think much about it until I see there’s a man singing karaoke ten feet away. Turns out there’s a rotation of three guys singing.
I start whistling at the table along with the music. Can’t say I whistle a lot, but if you think about it, it is a unique kind of instrument. A few minutes later, we leave the restaurant and walk over a bridge to the other side of the market, when I stop and say to my wife, “let’s go back, I want to whistle with them while they sing.” I don’t know exactly where this instinct is coming from, but I’m pretty sure it’s Michael’s voice in the back of my head saying, “go for it.”
So, we hike back over, and I communicate in hand gestures that I’d like to join along. The singers are totally open to me participating and while they take turns crooning away in Thai, I accompany them, adding my own instrumental flourishes. It’s completely spur of the moment fun and to be honest, whistling is a safe way for me to tap back into the music that lives inside of me. My wife is stunned and thrilled, as she knows all about my experience of singing at MEA with Michael.
Suddenly, I decide to pick up an extra microphone and sing along. This time, there’s no fear or hesitation and I largely attribute my lack of inhibition to Michael’s influence, knowing that freeing up my voice is a gift to myself. While I have no idea of the words, we smoothly harmonize and the other singers and the workers at the restaurant start clapping along. It’s déjà vu all over again and my wife is beaming as she videos my performance. It’s one of the highlights of our trip and every time I watch it, I can’t help but smile and think back to Santa Fe.
At the end of the MEA retreat, we had to decide on a name for our cohort. The votes came in and we were now proudly The New Frantiers. As I’d gotten to know Michael over the five-day workshop, I witnessed how kind, generous, positive and real he was. He wasn’t just a breath of fresh air, more like a whirlwind of love, spirit and optimism. And the freedom to sing was simply the hit single from my new decision-making album.
Ten months later and 8,600 miles away, I found My Rhythm in Midlife again. Thanks to Michael and Chip, I’m living proof that an old dog can learn new tunes. Michael is once again teaching this workshop with Chip in Santa Fe April 21-26. Highly recommend you sign up, no matter what your musical talent as this is less about music and more about freedom.
-Paul
Paul Gilbert is a writer, producer and idea engine. Hired at CNN’s inception, he was a producer and weekend anchor. He led the National Basketball Association’s entertainment division in NY and then, emigrated to San Francisco to start Heart at Work, a film and video production company. Paul’s writing has appeared in the NY Times, Washington Post and Psychology Today and he’s currently working on a screenplay featuring characters spanning three generations facing major life transitions. Paul is also a Laughter Yoga leader, leading to serious fun at three different MEA workshops. He’s now awaiting word on a record deal in Thailand.