Part One: The Perfectionist and the Singer – a match made in hell!

It kills us. The need to be perfect allows no room for mistakes (mis-takes), and certainly allows no room for the mystery and risk of art and creativity to move through us freely. The child at play has no agenda, no need to get anywhere or to prove anything, until, the Perfectionist is born in them, casting aside the freedom of playing for play sake. To allow the artist and singer to reside in you freely is to look into the eyes of the one guarding the artist, the Perfectionist. Freedom cannot be found through perfection but, perfection can be found through freedom.
Was that perfect?

Part Two: The Critic

The Critic is to the Perfectionist like Robin is to Batman, or, is it the other way around?
Either way, they are cartoon characters and they are fiction, let’s just be clear.
We made them up and gave them godlike powers. Their voices come in handy in a pinch, to get us off the hook from standing up and standing out, from speaking up and speaking out. The voice that keeps us safe keeps us small. The power of decision is my own, or is it?