“I can’t sing.” 3 lessons I learned after performing on Paraguayan National Television

During Peace Corps service, I picked up the guitar. I’ve never been so musically gifted, but, like a lot of people, I wanted to learn a few chords and maybe a few songs.

In my free time, I began practicing the traditional 6:8 strum pattern and music time that is unique to Paraguayan folk music, which I diligently practiced at home, posting Instagram stories about my progress.

I’ve never been much of a musician, but I enjoyed dedicating the time to something that I always told myself I’d do.

One day, the producer of a national television show, Terere Jere, contacted me about coming onto their program. They wanted me to talk about my experience as a volunteer in Paraguay and what life is like. (At this time, I was just gaining social media traction for my Instagram videos.)

The show is aired every Sunday morning and they talk about cultural or political events. It’s light, fun, and it’s great for families on an easy Sunday morning.

Well, they said they’d only have me on their show if I played and sang a traditional Paraguayan song as well.

I’m not a musician! I’m not an artist.

I can’t do that, I thought.

But the opportunity was so exciting and random that in a moment of courage, I said, Heck, why not?

I had about 1 week to practice a song (I chose the equivalent of Paraguay’s Happy Birthday song, pretty lame I know, but it was the best I got) to play on national television.

And on the night of the recording, I could barely keep the guitar from slipping out of my sweaty hands.

Under the bright lights of the TV set, I was offered terere rupa, a Paraguayan snack to calm hunger between breakfast and lunch. My mouth was incredibly dry, but to go with the flow, I accepted a piece of sopa paraguaya, a savory corn bread, which gave me flashbacks to the Saltine Challenge from my lack of saliva.

When the red light of the camera turned on and the director gave me the nod, I began to sing.

My heart was about to hop right out of my chest as I sang just a little too fast. Taking cues from the man next to me, I tried to slow it down.

And thankfully, I made it through without any big hiccups.

The show itself turned out to be a great success. When the episode aired on the following Sunday, friends and acquaintances texted me saying that they thought I sounded great and that they loved the answers to the host’s questions.

No one actually commented on my ability to play the guitar. Or that I sang too fast. Or that my strum pattern wasn’t perfect. No one cared at all. They were just happy for me that I tried (and that I didn’t embarrass myself on television).

And I realized that I am a musician. I am a guitarist. Maybe I’m not on the level of a Jimmy Hendrix, but I play.

The shift in my identity allows me to act out a reality that was once nonexistent.

And I realized that what is holding many of us back are ghosts of the imposter syndrome.

When in reality we could just realize that we don’t have to be an EXPERT to call ourselves something.

It made me ask: What beliefs have I come to accept that are holding me back from future growth because that’s “not me”? What do I “believe” about myself that is dictating my identity?

Regardless of what I believe about myself, here are 3 things that I learned from singing on Paraguayan national television.

3 lessons I learned:

1. Don’t take life so seriously. Rarely will a single decision be the make or break. Taken over the aggregate, the compilation of good decisions is more important.

2. Take a chance. Risk messing up. And see what you’re made of. Whether you can pull it off, and if not, how you bounce back.

3. When given the chance to sing on national television, hope that your mouth isn’t so dry. And bring extra water.

It was a great experience. Give it a listen and let me know what you think. And while you’re watching, ask yourself, “What belief have I come to accept that is holding me back?”