An Ode to Karaoke
I did not come into this world a karaoke lover but you best believe I’ll leave it one. I was dragged one evening in college and I was sick, no less, so didn’t even have the comforts of drunkenness. Nevertheless, I tried something new, took the stage and my life hasn’t been the same.
Was I truly a Leo rising before charming a roomful of strangers with my spirited rendition of Coldplay’s “Clocks”? Or the countless other times I have dropped every other thought except for the next line screen and the emotion I channeled in that moment?
The pandemic, of course, has delayed my karaoke journey. For years I avoided crowded bars, specifically ones where we projected our spit across the room in the name of a good belt. I consider last Saturday my re-initiation into that world and I am moved to be back.
Would I sound absurd to call karaoke a spiritual experience? The stage upfront like a makeshift altar, with rotating pastors spreading their gospel of vibes. One thing that strikes me again and again about what makes a karaoke song enjoyable as a listener is the vigor and presence the singer imbues with their songs. Sometimes, a too polished or musical theater delivery detracts from a performance because are they really putting anything on the line? This is also why I am opposed to private rooms: why do I have to sing only for my friends when I could do that at home? I already know they love me. To dare to be myself and really sell it to a larger audience, regardless of how preoccupied they seem to be with other bar matters; a truly embodied karaoke experience electrifies everyone in the room. Karaoke is a great equalizer in that way: it doesn’t matter who you were or what skill you have prior to taking the stage. All you have is who you are in that moment. Done authentically, I think anyone can be a god for a few minutes.
Perhaps it’s my Mars-ruled 9th house, but I believe most spiritual movements involve risk. Putting yourself out there and daring people to see you regardless of your ability is a liberating experience, especially if you choose a bar with a good karaoke community. If you’ve encountered such a thing you know what I mean: lots of support and clapping, singing along at the memorable parts, as well as plenty of sharing the stage themselves. Even the least crowded karaoke can be difficult to get your song queued because the regulars will sing every song their heart desires that night. You can’t be that self-conscious when you see everyone around you is subjecting themselves to the neon glare and putting themselves out there to be seen.
During my last visit, I became interested in the relationship between inner and outer. Since being away, I became perhaps too concerned with being received well. That means practicing certain songs, honing my voice, having strategies for calling spirit down, for I truly feel like something higher takes over when the opening bars start. But when I actually went up and opened my mouth, the pleasure was wholly self-made. I danced in a way that felt good. Just feeling the sounds exiting my mouth was satisfying in itself. When I remember and centralize my own experience and pleasure, the audience reaction becomes icing, a nice addition but Not The Point.
I have been telling people that liking karaoke is a green flag to me and so far, with a small sample size, everyone has agreed. You have to be able to take yourself less seriously and put perfection in the bin to take the mantle of karaoke singer. You have to be willing to be vulnerable and find the clarity and strength in that sensitive place. You also have to be able to just enjoy things. Someone else singing your favorite song badly is still you hearing your favorite song. Why are you letting your mind intrude and tell you it’s not pleasurable?
Then there’s the question of what to sing. I have been finding much joy in practicing my karaoke roster, which morphs and grows depending on my mood. This is a personal preference. You should do what feels good to you but there’s nothing wrong with playing to the audience a bit. One of my most favorite karaoke memories is when some generic white dude took the helm. The opening bars of “Fergalicious” started playing and the audience rushed the stage. I can’t remember a note of what he sang but it doesn’t matter: the mere selection made us all feel something together.
I like having a few reliable choices in my pocket when I need to warm up or rest on my laurels a bit but the edge of risk is where the joy of karaoke soars. Trying out new songs just because I like them shine through because my love trumps my criticism or over-investment in skill.
Basically, karaoke is about doing what you love, openly, audaciously, with friends and strangers alike. When I am truly in the moment, small Chloe with her worries and focus on error falls away and all there is the screen, the mic and my voice. Some deeper, higher, more certain version comes out, fully assenting to my mood, my vibe, my skill in the moment and selling the hell out of it regardless. What a joy, what a generous thing to share.
Knowing the Sky with Your Heart
Without even realizing it, this karaoke writing dovetails beautifully with my latest offering: a class on Stellar Gnosis, or connecting with the fixed stars directly. I have already released two classes gathering the extant wisdom on the fixed stars throughout history— their function as soulful daimones, their role in your natal chart, calendars, magic— but I knew that I couldn’t stop at the dry intellect.
That is where my practice with the stars are most alive. I am fortunate enough to have discovered a rigorous, soulful spiritual practice in college, which taught me that my direct experience of the divine would always trump what was written down or spoken by authority— that direct experience is where the floating words become integrated, can change me.
Put another way:
“When the bird and the book disagree, always believe the bird"
— John James Audubon
With the fixed stars, a niche topic within the niche topic of astrology, you simply can’t make a full meal just on what has been written anyway. Sparkling at us each night, they practically beg for intimate contact.
But, I also know we need some help trusting ourselves and building a structure on which to hang our stellar insights. But it’s all a finger pointing at the Moon— the real work, like karaoke, involves you being present in the moment, and making space for something beyond your chattering mind and doubts take over.
To treat the stars and divine as beings worth relating to is an act of faith.
I want to help you make that motion past the known, past the thoughts of others, to direct contact with the stars and their messages, images, myths.
This class is for anyone who wants to connect with the fixed stars directly.
This class is for anyone who believes their own heart-mind can bring them to the divine intimately.
This class is for anyone who believes that stars, like us, have souls that wish to speak.
Learn more and purchase my Stellar Gnosis class below.
And for now, I leave you with this:
Reminder that my books are open for October as well. Let’s spent some time with the mysteries together.
Until Next Time,
Love,
Chloe