Field Notes From the Path:Leading My First Full Kirtan

There’s a monthly kirtan in Charlottesville, held at Unity Church. I’ve played there before. It’s a big space — beautiful in its own way — but not particularly intimate.

Different people take turns leading each month.
And this time… they asked me.

I said yes.

But not without fear.

In the days leading up to it, I kept thinking:

I haven’t practiced enough.
I don’t have a full set list.
What if my voice doesn’t sound good?
Who am I to lead a whole kirtan?

I was already preparing to fail.
Trying to lower expectations — even in my own mind.
Terrified that people would show up thinking I had something polished to offer.

But I didn’t want to perform.
I just wanted to show up… somehow.

Entering the Space …

The room was familiar. Same big church.
A few familiar faces were already there. Later, a few new ones came through the doors.
Not packed. Not empty. Maybe 20 people total.

I was nervous.
The kind of nervous that doesn’t just live in your mind — it lives in your body.

My insides were buzzing.
Like pins and needles under my skin — not sharp, but restless.
My breath was shallow. My chest was tight.
And that haunting voice was already there:

“You’re not good enough.”

At the beginning, there was resistance.

A big part of me didn’t want to be seen.
Didn’t want to lead.
Didn’t want the spotlight or the responsibility.

I wanted to blend in.
Be safe.
Invisible.
and play small.

I felt unworthy. And again — “You’re not good enough.” the voice said

Still… I started. First chant. First breath. First offering.

Then something began to shift.

The mantra started to carry me.
I stopped worrying about performing.
I stopped worrying about the plan.
I started singing to my Guru.

And I felt his presence — Maharaj-ji.
I remembered: This is my practice. This is my prayer.
Whatever happens here is enough.

My ego softened.
My nervous system followed.

Sharing the Space …

One of my favorite moments was during a chant when I looked around and invited others to lead. Just handed it over. No expectations. Just:
“Come if you want to. Be where you are.”

Some people stepped in.
Some people didn’t.
And I loved all of it.

Watching others show up scared — and sing anyway — mirrored something back to me.
This wasn’t about being fearless.
It was about being true.

I also shared spoken word before each chant — just a few reflections about what the mantra means to me.

It helped me drop in.
Helped me remember:
These aren’t just stories. These are instructions for peace.
Maps left by those who came before us.

And near the end during a chant (Video of the chant here https://youtu.be/A9r9L6iLq38)… I put someone into my heart.

She wasn’t in the room, but she was with me.
I felt her presence beside me.
I choked up — overwhelmed by that part of me that loves her unconditionally.

A single tear of longing fell from my cheek.
It felt like the kind of ache Krishna and Radha must know.
Love not bound by time, form or space. The kind of love that is only bound by the love itself.

After the Final Chant …

When the last chant ended, I felt peace.

Like all the worrying I did had just dissolved into the floor.
There was some applause. But mostly… stillness.
Softness.
Love.

People seemed to be in the same place I was — grounded, open.
It felt like they wanted more.
But not in a consuming way.
More like: “That was nourishing.”

And it felt good in my heart to know I could offer that.
That I had an impact.
That on that night, my life had meaning.

Shift …

I do feel changed.

Not in a big, dramatic way.
But something in me is more rooted.

I connected to the deep root of my practice — the part that’s not about voice, or timing, or how “good” the chant is.
The part that’s about God.

I remembered:

“My worth has nothing to do with how I look.
Or what I make.
Or whether the chant was “perfect.”

It’s about showing up with heart.
That — to me — is bhakti.

If I Could Tell My Old Self Something…

Honestly? …. I wouldn’t.

I wouldn’t go back and comfort that nervous, self-doubting version of me.
Because he needed to feel all of that.
The fear. The tightness. The unworthiness.

I didn’t even know what I was in need of.
But I showed up anyway.

That is living the experience.

What I’m Learning …

I’m learning I have a gift.
And I’m beginning to understand I don’t want it to be wasted.
It’s selfish of me to not share my gift (Thanks Lisa for saying that to me!!)

Even when I don’t feel ready — God still asks me to offer it.

I’m learning that messing up is allowed.
That imperfection is part of the offering.
That my value isn’t in how “prepared” I am — it’s in how authentic I am.

I don’t need to perform.

I don’t need to impress.

I just need to get out of my own way.

Because the chant isn’t about me.

It never was.

For me it’s about returning to love … bhakti