Meeting Limiting Beliefs with Pliability

When coaching a voice student through self-doubt, I often allude to “limiting beliefs.” I’m borrowing this phrase from a larger zeitgeist—a quick Google will show you how prolific this concept is. The semantics of  “limiting beliefs” reveals both the poison and the antidote. Limiting quantifies the cost of self-doubt to our potential, while belief suggests that a shift in mindset is possible.

I recently joined a workout that is a combination of yoga and aerobics­—many of the exercise sequences incorporate use of a mini-trampoline. The class is rigorous and the element of bouncing is equal parts exhilarating and intimidating. I often catch myself thinking two things: “man, these other women are nimble gazelles” and “too bad I’m not and will never be one of them.” The perfectionist in me is quick to compare and seldom charitable.

In singing, limiting beliefs can take many forms: how we feel about our technique, the beauty of our instrument, the viability of our career, or the worth of our contributions as artists. They can even creep into the vulnerability of a single breath: “Will my voice connect?” “Will the onset be clear and stable?” “Will I make the end of the phrase?”

Left unchecked limiting beliefs become liabilities. They trap us in a rigid mindset and equally rigid body. (Not optimal for bouncing on a trampoline or singing.) They keep us in stagnant collaborations and make us susceptible to the cynicism of others. They become self-fulfilling prophecies in our coordination. The surest way to run out of breath is to doubt that you have enough.

Stepping away from my workout (in spite of my now liquefied calves and thighs), I wondered if the first hope of becoming a nimble gazelle or great singer is to simply believe that it’s possible. This opportunity to choose faith over fear exists every time we step into the practice room or onto the stage, submit audition materials, or launch into a cadenza. And our reward for this risk is pliability.

With a pliable mindset we can differentiate between measured critique and existential dread. We begin to choose curiosity over avoidance in the practice room. What follows is a pliable body that no longer tightens in defense but finds release and resilience in every breath. And a pliable spirit that boldly embraces the vulnerability of letting our voice be heard.

Perhaps alongside the hyperbole of a limiting belief is a candid invitation to engage with the very area(s) where we fear we fall short. Struggle is not prognostic. It is as elastic as a trampoline. Keep bouncing.