Lipica is a 2004 member of the National Advisory Committee

Fearless Factor

By Lipica,

I felt so glamorous! The person in the mirror could not possibly have been me, but it was. The costume was so pretty; my mom had spent days making it–I really did feel like Princess Jasmine. I was so busy admiring myself that I didn't hear my teacher come into the room.

"Lipica," she said, smiling, "You're up next. Are you ready?"

Was I ready? Of course I was ready! I was ready yesterday! As I walked to the stage, I felt a small, tingling sensation begin to grow in the pit of my stomach. "It's just butterflies," I thought to myself. No way was I nervous–this was my big chance!

Despite all the pep talks in front of the mirror, once the curtain opened and I saw all the expectant faces staring up at me, a gigantic knot took the butterflies' place. My teacher started the music and as the first notes of "A Whole New World" played, all I remember saying is, "I c-c-c-can…I…I can…" but I couldn't (how ironic!). My life as a six-year-old star was officially over.

Looking Back

That day is still fresh in my mind. I remember the excitement of preparation, the anxiety of rehearsals–and the disappointing finish. My elementary school's annual talent show was supposed to be the highlight of my year. I've seen the video of a younger me, paralyzed with stage fright countless times–and every time I see it, I can't help but laugh. It's still embarrassing as I recall my humiliation and the vow to never set foot on a stage again. But, like most bad experiences, those feelings went away with time.

Eleven years later, I sing and act–yes, on a stage–every chance I get. I've been blessed with the opportunity to develop and improve my love of music. In fact, I'm currently pursuing a career in musical theatre (let's just say I'm a "Broadway Bound" hopeful).

Learning from Fear

That fateful day eleven years ago in the talent show was my first solo, on-stage experience. However traumatic it may have been, I wouldn't trade that memory. That day helped me understand what it means to be humble; for the first time, I saw that while confidence is a positive attribute, too much is not always a good thing.

Most of all, it helped me realize that performing (or anything else for that matter) is not about being the best. It's about doing your best and having fun, too. I discovered that I never have to prove anything to anyone but myself–and that remains the most important lesson I have learned thus far. It's now a mantra that permeates every single part of my life.