Consciously Competent

Consciously Competent

Rehearse your way out of incompetence.

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“Contestant number two … TWIST OF FATE!”

Before the emcee finishes the introduction, the backstage crew pulls the curtains apart and four of us step into blinding spotlights flooding the Sweet Adeline Internationals regional quartet competition stage.

As the cheering from the supportive crowd fades, we begin singing the first song of our limited time on stage in front of four judges.

Our quartet, like every other foursome who takes the stage, has put in months of rehearsals as well as individual work when we’re apart.

We have spent countless hours working on a limited number of songs. We spend innumerable rehearsal time on phrases. At times we hash out one word over and over and over and over, making sure we’re singing the vowel the same way and turning the diphthong at precisely the same moment. The phrase "ad nauseam” comes up.

The morning of the competition, we have 3 minutes on stage to practice walking out and seeing the room from the on-stage vantage point. In those 3 minutes, we sang the first few phrases of our contest songs so we could hear how our voices resonated in the large room.

The next time we step on that stage, we’ll be evaluated on our songs, our vowels and our diphthongs.

All that work is for that moment on stage. Three songs. Ten minutes.

And in our moment on stage, the notes coming from my mouth don’t sound right. The normal blend of our four voices that I’m used to hearing isn’t there. Our rehearsals are spent singing while facing each other in close proximity in small rooms, not spread out in a flat formation in a large room with a sound-absorbing audience.

All that work for this moment. Three songs. Ten minutes.

I strain to listen closely to our lead who carries the melody line, trying to force my notes of harmony into hers. It still doesn’t sound right.

Each second I struggle with my notes feels like minutes, of which we have precious few.

All that work.  

I stop listening and keep singing, placing the notes where I’ve trained them to go during the months of all that work. 

All that work that led to all that muscle memory, that final stage of learning … unconscious competence.

While it doesn’t sound good to strive for any sort of unconsciousness while being judged on stage under bright lights in front of an audience, unconscious competence is exactly what got me through those three songs.

And that unconscious competence comes after plowing though unconscious incompetence, conscious incompetence and conscious competence. In other words: not knowing what you don’t know, knowing you don’t know something, inconsistently knowing something and then, confidently knowing something.

That comes through focused and accurate repetition of the skill, any skill. So when the time comes for that skill to be showcased but the environment isn’t the same as all those moments of rehearsal, the skill can still shine through.

That’s what allows us to be in the moment. 

That’s what allows us to let go of notes that sound wrong in the confidence that if performed the same way they were rehearsed, they will be right.

That’s what allows us to release our inner critic and be in the moment, knowing that the hard work that led us to that moment is paying off.

That’s what allows us to enjoy the moment as the reward for all those different levels of consciousness and competence we sang through.