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Maya: Meditation Offer?
Friday night beckons all the bored socialites out of hiding and to their favorite haunts. That's good news for the ecclectic cafes and coffee shops that strive to make a living in a city more often described as dark and haunted. The history and nostalgia of old Motown though, does carry a fair weight in keeping the arts close to some hearts though, and Mack has found a cafe willing to encourage such culture by offering three song sets in an open mic atmosphere. The young woman looks a bit nervous on stage as she situates her guitar and plugs it into the provided amp. The crowd, at least, is pretty chill for now.
Maya's just finished out her own sets, half a city away in the more prosperous business district. She's tired, but smiling a little still, riding the afterglow of her work. Slipping in as unobtrusively as she can, the woman makes her way to the counter to get herself something to drink.
A few strums against the Strat-knock off Xaviere produce a pleasing tone that breaks the silence on stage. The mic stand is adjusted and then with a deep breath meant to steel nerves, the young woman starts singing. There's no guitar at first, just a pleasing, if quiet voice opening with a melodic soprano, "Ooooohoooohoooh" for the first four measures. At the fifth, a dirty low octave riff starts on the guitar, and the voice shifts to what must be her more natural alto tone.
My head is spinnin. From the doom that is proclaimed of a tolling bell.
There goes your man all curled up shaken like a leaf tormented holding on to. His personal hell.
I'm not runnin' for the hills, I'm not runnin' outta fear. I'm just runnin.
Maya's attention focuses, as she waits for her latte--it's that sharp thing again, a brightness in her eyes.
The song continues and as the guitar becomes more prevalent, the girl's nerves begin to wash away and the voice becomes stronger. Her fingers dance along the strings with a passion that speaks of a great love for music and her instrument of choice.
Well damn your stubbornness and damn your pride.
To hell with your truths and heavenly lies.
Blood in the water blood in the sand.
Hounds of hell been doggin' this man.
Put my grave next to daddy's stone.
If I lay dead 'fore I make it home.
It's been so long cuz I've been runnin.
With a smokin' heart and a broken gun.
Yeah!!
The song takes on a hint of country twang to this now, and as the lyrics continue, the girl tips her head down and sings as if it were a confession from her own soul.
Without looking away, Maya murmurs something and reaches over to take her drink. She stays where she is, rather than looking for a place to sit. Lingering in peripheral vision, where she can watch Mack's hands, her face, her posture.
A second version of a verse similar to the first follows, allowing the guitar to build and giving the performer a chance to sing a heavier, rockier turn on the final run through the lyrics. It crescendos and builds until it drops and she returns back to a quieter, sweeter voice and guitar duo, that is emphasized with a syncopated 'beat' performed by her own foot stomping. Once more it builds as the lyrics repeat, and then the guitar strums its final chord. Only then does she look up, looking again, far more nervous than she was a moment ago.
With coffee in one hand, Maya's a bit hampered... but she slaps the other hand against the counter, starting an impromptu scattering of applause.
The girl has talent, easily noticed talent. Pretty voice, good technicality and she plays with emotion. The stage presence though- it's clear she's up there on egg shells and hasn't quite found her confidence. "Thanks," she near whispers into the mic, "That was a cover of Shaman's Harvest, which, if you've not checked out their latest, there's really not a bad song on it." She fusses with the mic again. "Alright, next one, is, well a cover of a cover. It's Dream On, acoustic version as done by Dave Clarke, but, not acoustic since I'll be singing." The song gets started then, and this one begins with a rich riff as she sets up for the verse.
Blame it on your karmic curse
Oh shame upon the universe
It knows its lines
It's well rehearsed
It sucked you in, it dragged you down
To where there is no hallowed ground
Where holiness is never found
Paying debt to karma
You party for a living
What you take won't kill you
But careful what you're giving
Can you feel a little love
Can you feel a little love
Dream on dream on.
Torn, Maya watches--and if she could will confidence into someone without the use of magic, she would be. Her attention is focused, intent, and above all, supportive. She leans over to say something to the barista, or one of the other employees, from time to time.
As before, it's about a third of the way into the song that the music overtakes her and the nerves vanish. It's just pure, heart felt performance then. It's almost as if she's singing for herself, or for someone else than she is for the crowd. As her second song ends, there's another round of clapping; she's actually good, which helps, and some seem to have the same idea as Maya in giving her the encouragement she needs to press on. The final song she chooses is a guitar rendition of Mumford & Sons The Cave, which goes over as well as the others. The set concluded, she gets her final round of applause and unplugs her guitar, nodding her head and offering a final thanks as she steps down from the stage and hurries to the corner of the bar. "Shot of Jameson please!
Maybe she has tunnel vision, a bit--so focused on that bar, her goal.
Maya finds her way to the woman's side, dessert-like coffee in her hand. "Can I take care of that drink, for you?" she asks, her smile holding secrets.
Mack startles a little bit at that, turning to look at who's approached her. Color remains missing from her face even after recognition filters through her gaze, and she shakes her head, "Uh no, I mean, I got it." Her guitar is slung at her side, not even cased. "How long have you been here?" she asks then, uncertainly.
Maya's smile widens just a little. "Since you got up there," she answers. "You were great."
"Oh god, are you serious?" The question seems more aimed at the first query. "Thanks. I dunno if it went that well, but hey. Got up there at least." The shot is handed over to her and she tips it back like an old pro. A five comes out of her pocket to slide at the bartender and he waves it off with a little smile. "That's to take the edge off kiddo. You were lovely." Mack smiles sheepishly at this and then turns back to Maya. "Just need my head to stop spinning now."
Maya nods in sympathy, taking a sip of her drink, eyes lowered. "You're fine once you lose yourself in it. For now, figure out how to speed up that process. Get there before you start, you know?"
Mack tips her head, "It's hard. I don't do well on stage, or with people really, in general. Most of the time." She fusses with the empty shot glass, thoughtful and a little avoidant of the others eyes. "Any suggestions on how to do it?"
After considering her for a time, Maya says cautiously, "Yeah. I can... maybe work on some things, that might help." A beat. "You really are good, you know," she adds.
Mack looks up at that finally, "Thanks." She lets out a breath then and turns toward the man at the counter. "Uh, can I get just a coffee then maybe?" And at this she pushes over a couple of bills as if to delay any protests. As she waits for the drink she turns back to Maya, "What kind of things?"
"Meditation techniques, mostly," the woman answers. "Ways to train your mind, stimulus and response kinda stuff."
Mack raises a single eyebrow at that, "Huh?" She offers a small smile then, meant to be polite, "I'm not really sure I follow."
Maya lifts one shoulder, and glances down. "I, um, teach meditation. Part of my day job. And a lot of yoga is about union of mind, body and soul, you know?" She looks across to the woman, then, and something in her smile falters, after a moment, into seriousness. "There are things I can teach you. Maybe they'll help you, maybe they won't. It's like... teaching someone to sing. Different things work for different people, when it comes to the mind."
Mack draws in a breath at that, eyes narrowing just for a bit. "I've never been one to really get into that sorta stuff. I don't mean to offend, it just seems so hokey. Far-fetched."
Maya tips her head a fraction. "That guy wanted to kill me over something that wasn't real, then?" Her gaze flickers down, briefly.
Mack looks up again at that, body tensing slightly. "What are you getting at?"
Maya wets her lips, searching the woman's gaze. "You felt something, and so did he," she says quietly. "Right?"
There's a whole new level of tension that runs through the girl now, but she holds her ground and steadies a look at the other. "Yeah. Maybe."
Compared to Mack, Maya is a bastion of peace and calm. Which is saying a lot, with Rage part of the equation. It's noticeable that not many people are standing close by. She holds the woman's eyes. "Then you believe in *something* that you can't see, right?"
"Anyone who believes in God and the angels has to answer yes to that." Mack tightens her jaw a bit more as the conversation continues. "I can't figure you out ... but you're talking pretty crazy right now, you know that, right?"
"You really think meditation can't help you with stage fright?" Maya asks. "That's not crazy, to me. It's just... common sense. The mind is a malleable thing, right? Otherwise hypnosis wouldn't work."
"Yeah it is, and you gotta be careful what you let into it, and who you let fill it with ideas. Because not all of them are good." Mack draws in a breath and lets it out very slowly, "And hypnosis is fucking stupid and scary. It's practically letting someone walk in and make you their puppet."
Maya nods. "Yeah," she says quietly. She's still calm, maybe a little concerned or sad, her expression as soft as her voice. "And I'm not talking about making you vulnerable to anything. I'm talking about ways for *you* to deal with your nerves. Before you perform. Your own control, over the reactions of your body to stress."
Mack seems to hang up there and struggle for a moment, caught in internal debate. "My own control? Like, to keep me calm?" After a long hesitation she lifts a shoulder, "Maybe. Maybe I could see what you mean with that."
Maya glances down, one shoulder hitching up a little. "Just call me, if you-- decide you want to try," she says quietly. When she looks up, her smile is... questionable. Brittle, maybe, and it doesn't manage to hide the trace of pain behind her eyes. "You really were great," she adds, softer.
Mack frowns all of a sudden, and then frowns more as she realizes she's frowning. "Hey wait!" she offers as the other turns to go. "Thanks," she lets out in a sigh, "Really. It means a lot for someone like you to say that. I'll, I'll see you around."
Maya looks to her again, giving Mack a small smile and a swift little nod. "I-- yeah. Yeah, sure." Then she ducks her head and turns to go, walking fast, dropping off her mug on the way. She grabs up her coat without even pausing to put it on.
Maya's just finished out her own sets, half a city away in the more prosperous business district. She's tired, but smiling a little still, riding the afterglow of her work. Slipping in as unobtrusively as she can, the woman makes her way to the counter to get herself something to drink.
A few strums against the Strat-knock off Xaviere produce a pleasing tone that breaks the silence on stage. The mic stand is adjusted and then with a deep breath meant to steel nerves, the young woman starts singing. There's no guitar at first, just a pleasing, if quiet voice opening with a melodic soprano, "Ooooohoooohoooh" for the first four measures. At the fifth, a dirty low octave riff starts on the guitar, and the voice shifts to what must be her more natural alto tone.
My head is spinnin. From the doom that is proclaimed of a tolling bell.
There goes your man all curled up shaken like a leaf tormented holding on to. His personal hell.
I'm not runnin' for the hills, I'm not runnin' outta fear. I'm just runnin.
Maya's attention focuses, as she waits for her latte--it's that sharp thing again, a brightness in her eyes.
The song continues and as the guitar becomes more prevalent, the girl's nerves begin to wash away and the voice becomes stronger. Her fingers dance along the strings with a passion that speaks of a great love for music and her instrument of choice.
Well damn your stubbornness and damn your pride.
To hell with your truths and heavenly lies.
Blood in the water blood in the sand.
Hounds of hell been doggin' this man.
Put my grave next to daddy's stone.
If I lay dead 'fore I make it home.
It's been so long cuz I've been runnin.
With a smokin' heart and a broken gun.
Yeah!!
The song takes on a hint of country twang to this now, and as the lyrics continue, the girl tips her head down and sings as if it were a confession from her own soul.
Without looking away, Maya murmurs something and reaches over to take her drink. She stays where she is, rather than looking for a place to sit. Lingering in peripheral vision, where she can watch Mack's hands, her face, her posture.
A second version of a verse similar to the first follows, allowing the guitar to build and giving the performer a chance to sing a heavier, rockier turn on the final run through the lyrics. It crescendos and builds until it drops and she returns back to a quieter, sweeter voice and guitar duo, that is emphasized with a syncopated 'beat' performed by her own foot stomping. Once more it builds as the lyrics repeat, and then the guitar strums its final chord. Only then does she look up, looking again, far more nervous than she was a moment ago.
With coffee in one hand, Maya's a bit hampered... but she slaps the other hand against the counter, starting an impromptu scattering of applause.
The girl has talent, easily noticed talent. Pretty voice, good technicality and she plays with emotion. The stage presence though- it's clear she's up there on egg shells and hasn't quite found her confidence. "Thanks," she near whispers into the mic, "That was a cover of Shaman's Harvest, which, if you've not checked out their latest, there's really not a bad song on it." She fusses with the mic again. "Alright, next one, is, well a cover of a cover. It's Dream On, acoustic version as done by Dave Clarke, but, not acoustic since I'll be singing." The song gets started then, and this one begins with a rich riff as she sets up for the verse.
Blame it on your karmic curse
Oh shame upon the universe
It knows its lines
It's well rehearsed
It sucked you in, it dragged you down
To where there is no hallowed ground
Where holiness is never found
Paying debt to karma
You party for a living
What you take won't kill you
But careful what you're giving
Can you feel a little love
Can you feel a little love
Dream on dream on.
Torn, Maya watches--and if she could will confidence into someone without the use of magic, she would be. Her attention is focused, intent, and above all, supportive. She leans over to say something to the barista, or one of the other employees, from time to time.
As before, it's about a third of the way into the song that the music overtakes her and the nerves vanish. It's just pure, heart felt performance then. It's almost as if she's singing for herself, or for someone else than she is for the crowd. As her second song ends, there's another round of clapping; she's actually good, which helps, and some seem to have the same idea as Maya in giving her the encouragement she needs to press on. The final song she chooses is a guitar rendition of Mumford & Sons The Cave, which goes over as well as the others. The set concluded, she gets her final round of applause and unplugs her guitar, nodding her head and offering a final thanks as she steps down from the stage and hurries to the corner of the bar. "Shot of Jameson please!
Maybe she has tunnel vision, a bit--so focused on that bar, her goal.
Maya finds her way to the woman's side, dessert-like coffee in her hand. "Can I take care of that drink, for you?" she asks, her smile holding secrets.
Mack startles a little bit at that, turning to look at who's approached her. Color remains missing from her face even after recognition filters through her gaze, and she shakes her head, "Uh no, I mean, I got it." Her guitar is slung at her side, not even cased. "How long have you been here?" she asks then, uncertainly.
Maya's smile widens just a little. "Since you got up there," she answers. "You were great."
"Oh god, are you serious?" The question seems more aimed at the first query. "Thanks. I dunno if it went that well, but hey. Got up there at least." The shot is handed over to her and she tips it back like an old pro. A five comes out of her pocket to slide at the bartender and he waves it off with a little smile. "That's to take the edge off kiddo. You were lovely." Mack smiles sheepishly at this and then turns back to Maya. "Just need my head to stop spinning now."
Maya nods in sympathy, taking a sip of her drink, eyes lowered. "You're fine once you lose yourself in it. For now, figure out how to speed up that process. Get there before you start, you know?"
Mack tips her head, "It's hard. I don't do well on stage, or with people really, in general. Most of the time." She fusses with the empty shot glass, thoughtful and a little avoidant of the others eyes. "Any suggestions on how to do it?"
After considering her for a time, Maya says cautiously, "Yeah. I can... maybe work on some things, that might help." A beat. "You really are good, you know," she adds.
Mack looks up at that finally, "Thanks." She lets out a breath then and turns toward the man at the counter. "Uh, can I get just a coffee then maybe?" And at this she pushes over a couple of bills as if to delay any protests. As she waits for the drink she turns back to Maya, "What kind of things?"
"Meditation techniques, mostly," the woman answers. "Ways to train your mind, stimulus and response kinda stuff."
Mack raises a single eyebrow at that, "Huh?" She offers a small smile then, meant to be polite, "I'm not really sure I follow."
Maya lifts one shoulder, and glances down. "I, um, teach meditation. Part of my day job. And a lot of yoga is about union of mind, body and soul, you know?" She looks across to the woman, then, and something in her smile falters, after a moment, into seriousness. "There are things I can teach you. Maybe they'll help you, maybe they won't. It's like... teaching someone to sing. Different things work for different people, when it comes to the mind."
Mack draws in a breath at that, eyes narrowing just for a bit. "I've never been one to really get into that sorta stuff. I don't mean to offend, it just seems so hokey. Far-fetched."
Maya tips her head a fraction. "That guy wanted to kill me over something that wasn't real, then?" Her gaze flickers down, briefly.
Mack looks up again at that, body tensing slightly. "What are you getting at?"
Maya wets her lips, searching the woman's gaze. "You felt something, and so did he," she says quietly. "Right?"
There's a whole new level of tension that runs through the girl now, but she holds her ground and steadies a look at the other. "Yeah. Maybe."
Compared to Mack, Maya is a bastion of peace and calm. Which is saying a lot, with Rage part of the equation. It's noticeable that not many people are standing close by. She holds the woman's eyes. "Then you believe in *something* that you can't see, right?"
"Anyone who believes in God and the angels has to answer yes to that." Mack tightens her jaw a bit more as the conversation continues. "I can't figure you out ... but you're talking pretty crazy right now, you know that, right?"
"You really think meditation can't help you with stage fright?" Maya asks. "That's not crazy, to me. It's just... common sense. The mind is a malleable thing, right? Otherwise hypnosis wouldn't work."
"Yeah it is, and you gotta be careful what you let into it, and who you let fill it with ideas. Because not all of them are good." Mack draws in a breath and lets it out very slowly, "And hypnosis is fucking stupid and scary. It's practically letting someone walk in and make you their puppet."
Maya nods. "Yeah," she says quietly. She's still calm, maybe a little concerned or sad, her expression as soft as her voice. "And I'm not talking about making you vulnerable to anything. I'm talking about ways for *you* to deal with your nerves. Before you perform. Your own control, over the reactions of your body to stress."
Mack seems to hang up there and struggle for a moment, caught in internal debate. "My own control? Like, to keep me calm?" After a long hesitation she lifts a shoulder, "Maybe. Maybe I could see what you mean with that."
Maya glances down, one shoulder hitching up a little. "Just call me, if you-- decide you want to try," she says quietly. When she looks up, her smile is... questionable. Brittle, maybe, and it doesn't manage to hide the trace of pain behind her eyes. "You really were great," she adds, softer.
Mack frowns all of a sudden, and then frowns more as she realizes she's frowning. "Hey wait!" she offers as the other turns to go. "Thanks," she lets out in a sigh, "Really. It means a lot for someone like you to say that. I'll, I'll see you around."
Maya looks to her again, giving Mack a small smile and a swift little nod. "I-- yeah. Yeah, sure." Then she ducks her head and turns to go, walking fast, dropping off her mug on the way. She grabs up her coat without even pausing to put it on.