After the wedding, I spent the rest of the evening alternating between dancing myself into exhaustion, making my support known to the bridal party and new husband and wife, and ensuring the comfort and enjoyment of the rest of the guests. And I felt fulfilled in every moment of it. I remember conversations with people from all walks of life. People I’ve never met before and people I’ve known since childhood. I found myself the center of more conversations that I care to think about, but I’m pleased with how well I held up under the pressure.

Something became very clear throughout the night though. I am terribly uncomfortable receiving praise. I do not know how many times I was told what an excellent job I did, or how often people expressed surprise or awe that I had never done this before. Every time someone told me how much they loved the service, I found myself struggling not to make excuses for myself.

“Thank you, I’ve had a great deal of training.” “Oh, that’s very kind, I’ve worked very hard.” “Thank you, it was such an honor, I’m glad I was able to do it for Alex and Samantha.”

After a while I caught myself starting to avoid people, and had to force myself to keep talking and relating and be the charming host. Everytime someone complimented me, I would start to apologize for myself, as though doing something well was something to be ashamed of.

I deeply dislike this response. I don’t think it’s healthy or appropriate, or respectful of the people I’m interacting with. When I was growing up, I wanted to do nothing more than sing. Singing was the one thing that could make me happy, could fill my heart, even when everything else in my life seemed like it wasn’t worth the effort. And I wanted nothing more than to be good at it. I worked hard, harder than I’ve ever worked at anything in my life. I got a job when I turned 16, so I could afford to take vocal lessons.

Somewhere along the way, through all the struggles and work, I realized that I simply am not talented. (the validity of this realization is questionable, but it has colored a great deal of where I am now, and is very relevant to this train of thought.) And that realization crushed me. I can’t blame anyone else for that, although it would be easy to do so. However I came to that conclusion, the fact is I realized that I have no great musical talent. The important part right at this moment, is that I learned to resent and envy the people who did.

I went to school with some amazing performers. Whether any of them are still performing I have no idea. What I do know is that they made it look easy. I worked for hours and weeks trying to learn to sing, and they did it with no effort. Worse, far worse, they didn’t care about their gift. It was meaningless to them. They took it for granted. Seeing people with something that I wanted so badly, who took it for granted built up a great deal of resentment in me.

As a result, I’ve spent a long time promising that I would not take my gifts for granted. The things that do come easily to me, magic, language, intuition, analysis. These are things that I cherish, and I do my best to honor them as gifts. I try not to take them for granted because I realize that there are people who may envy me these gifts, and I don’t want to make them feel the way the gifted performers in my school made me feel.

Until this weekend, I’ve always thought that was a really healthy approach. I’m no longer so convinced of this. This is not to say that I shouldn’t respect my gifts, or be grateful for them. But I realized last night that I’ve been trying to hide them so other people wouldn’t envy them, so I wouldn’t have to face the reality. The truth is, those performers who made me feel so inferior are not to blame for that feeling. They didn’t owe me an explanation for their talent. They didn’t need to deprecate themselves or display humility about their gifts.

The way they made me feel says a lot more about who I am/was than about who they were. I reacted to their talent and casual display of talent the only way I could. I became jealous, and that jealousy ate me alive. In many ways it is still trying to devour me. It is only in the last couple years that I have really begun to face down that demon, and there is plenty more work to do.

But it’s clear that this refusal to acknowledge my talents can not stand. It is false humility, and it is crushing me. Nobody needs to apologize for excellence. That includes me. I have plenty of flaws and challenges. I have a whole roomful of mis-matched baggage, but collecting that luggage has shaped me into the man I am today. And that man is smart and witty and talented. I am wealthy in spirit and family, I am a good speaker and writer, and I am more perceptive than the vast majority of people I know.

And I do not need to apologize for being any of these things, or any of the other things I am. I do not need to cut myself down to size, or protect the ego of those around me. I have the right, perhaps the responsibility, to shine, to embrace myself and my talent, and use my gifts to fulfill the demands of the Work. Some people will shrink from the light, as I once cowered beside my talented classmates. I can not prevent this, but I also can not withold the light for the comfort of a few. And I can see those who cower and do my best to bring them the hearthfire. And I can pass the light to others, so eventually we can all stand in the full strength of it.