My Butterfly Effect: The Audition that Changed My Life

My Butterfly Effect: The Audition that Changed My Life

“Please join me in welcoming our soloist, Elisha Miller!” Applause erupts through the Kennedy Center Concert Hall as I walk to the front of the stage and grab the microphone. I can’t believe I am here, I thought. This is my life. I think about the email I received five hours ago, offering me an audition at one of the most prestigious programs in the country.  

That email, and this moment on one of the biggest stages in the country, would’ve never happened if it weren’t for the 10-minute audition I haphazardly took two years ago. It is amazing how one small, insignificant moment can have monumental effects on someone’s life.

That is the premise of the Butterfly Effect: when a seemingly trivial event results in having much larger consequences. It rests on the notion that the world is deeply interconnected. There are complex systems that we cannot see, but they affect one another. Sometimes you look back on a chapter of your life and don’t know how you ended up where you did. Oftentimes, it is due to an interaction so small it seemed remarkably ordinary, it’s not worth remembering. I almost didn’t take that audition that led me to where I am now.

The summer leading up to the audition was filled with turmoil and heartache. Because I am a dreamer, I sat in one of my lowest points dreaming about how I could make my life better. Singing brought me joy, but as a freelancer it could be inconsistent when I could perform professionally. So, I decided to sign up to sing with a chorus. Not just one; I signed up to audition at two different choruses. Audition signups are free, after all, and I was desperate to make sure I had something in my lowly state.

But as the dates grew closer and my life was more unpredictable than ever before, it gave me pause. For starters, I lacked the bandwidth to prepare for auditions. But the bigger reason was the member fees. With my financial position being unstable, this barrier to entry was a risk I couldn’t take. I withdrew from both auditions without a second thought.

To my surprise, after my withdrawal, I received an email from one of the choirs. “Hi Elisha, I got your cancellation memo. I wanted to let you know that we do offer dues waivers, if that’s of interest to you. We wouldn’t want this to be a barrier for anyone to sing in TWC. Let me know if you’d still like to audition today.” This was a 200-member chorus who I assumed got dozens of auditioners. One little name falling off the list shouldn’t make a difference. But for whatever reason, it did. 

With nothing to lose, I responded with gratitude and said I’d be there. My audition was that afternoon.

I walked into the audition room and was greeted by the warmest, kindest artistic director I’d ever met. My selected audition song was “George” by William Bolcom, a cabaret piece that was a blast to sing, but also displayed high musical aptitude. I learned long ago that with every musical opportunity I was given, professional or otherwise, I wanted to have fun with it. While it was a high risk to bring a cabaret piece to a choral audition (a decision I look back on with raised eyebrows) it was who I was at the time, and I thought, “if they don’t like me singing something I love and that represents me well, then I don’t want to sing for them.” Alongside it, I had to sing a movement from the Brahms Requiem and sight read a simple Bach chorale.

This audition would stay with me for quite some time; not because of the outcome or any specific comment made during the process, but because of the impact the director had on me. “I want to sing for him,” I thought to myself. I felt his utter love and connection to what he did, a bigger reason for being there. It wasn’t just that he made me feel comfortable in the audition setting, but through some invisible forces, he made me feel like I was good–not musically, but as a person–there was good inside me, and it came out when I was in the room with him. I wanted more of that.

Over the next few months, this choir became a lifeline to me. I was struggling with the transition between my jobs, alongside this new achievement of earning six figures as a professional musician, and found my cup being emptied each day with no renewal in sight. There was one beacon of light: The Washington Chorus. Coming on Monday nights meant I didn’t have to be in charge for once. I could sit back, trust my leaders, and just sing. And the end result was magnificent; not only did we create beautiful music, but the community it offered was life-giving.

Life takes you in unpredictable directions, but this is one truth I can always hold: things will always work out. That audition led to the community that gave me a sense of belonging. It led to a summer symposium that empowered me as a conductor. It led to me applying for a single graduate program and now, in just a couple months, I will be moving across the country. All as a result of this audition.

That is the power of The Butterfly Effect. That audition seemed so inconsequential to me that I scheduled it on a whim, canceled it on a whim, and re-scheduled it on a whim. I don’t know what would’ve happened if they hadn’t offered the lifeline of waiving the audition fee, but my entire life would look different now. Never underestimate the power of small things; they might just have a domino effect on the rest of your life.