On the Alpine climb

The Zen master says, at the beginning of the journey, you know that mountains are mountains. But then you look closer, and begin to doubt. And you doubt harder when you start to climb them, and the ground under your feet is no longer flat and you cannot see the sky for trees. Once you've crossed them, and you have achieved Zen, says the master, mountains are mountains again. And I know its true, for I used to be certain that I could open my mouth and sing something worth listening to. But then I looked closer at my voice. The perfectionist inside didn't like what she heard. Since then, singing has been like walking the highwire. And I'm unable to resist the temptation to look down. No wonder I keep falling off; too many auditions now have seen me sail through the acting and dancing rounds, only to plummet from the dizzy heights of my own fear in the singing audition. And being keenly aware that I am the ringleader of this little circus, and have the power to unleash my own voice at any time I choose helps me not at all. Why does a person choose the stonier path inside herself and make life harder than it needs to be? All I know is that I needed to, but for the life of me I can't figure out why. And I long for the moment I see clear sky again.