So last night I completely bombed at my show. It's only happened one other time, but this time was a little worse, in some regards. The first time I ever bombed, it was at a show that only had 20 people in the audience, and only five volunteered for the show. Last night I had about 35 people, and six people volunteered. In both cases, I couldn't get anyone to do anything.
What made last night worse than the first time was that I dismissed the volunteer group and started all over again, hoping that this time I might make a recovery. Not so much. The second group failed to get any kind of meaningful hypnotic depth, as well. So I dismissed them and told folks the show was over.
I can't draw any parallel from any other aspect of my life to what it feels like to bomb on stage. There you are, up higher than everyone else, special lighting highlighting you, and everyone is watching expectantly. And nothing happens. I hypnotize over 1,000 people each year! On a regular basis I get people to transform into all kinds of characters and do all kinds of funny things. To have a night when it doesn't work with anyone is absolutely crushing. It's awful.
I drove home, almost four hours, from the gig the next morning. When I got home I was still feeling down, so I figured I'd hit the gym to get my heart going and boost my energy. I came home from the gym feeling a bit better, and then grabbed the mail from the box to find that someone had returned one of my products. A polite note inside the package said the person "did not find this product helpful." Sigh.
I love my job. I love my job way more than the vast majority of people love their jobs. To have two things happen like this in a 24 hour period is heartbreaking for me. I tend to take these kinds of things very personally, so the knee-jerk reaction is "the universe is trying to tell me something. Should I get out of this?" But the job has taught me so much, so I know better.
The universe IS trying to tell me something. It's telling me to not get comfortable with the success I've attained. It's telling me there's lots more to learn, and lots more to do, and I better get to it. It's telling me that the standing ovations I've gotten at shows are in the past, and now so is the show where I bombed, so what will I do with the present? And how will I carve out my future?
My bad day is so much better than many other people's. My bad day is a privilege. My bad day will improve my life. Starting right now.