Lacuna ~ The Gap Between Truth and Meaning
A singer stands before an audience, the song waiting, the voice trained, the notes precise. And yet—the gap remains.
Lacuna. The space between truth and meaning. The empty air between technical mastery and raw expression. The choice between a flawless performance and “something real.”
Carl Jung once said, "The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are." But becoming oneself is not passive—it is risk. It is standing in that space of uncertainty, knowing that perfection is safe, but truth is transformative.
Michel de Montaigne understood this battle: "The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself." A singer must claim their own voice—not just its sound, but its story. The trained voice is a tool, but without honesty, it is hollow. A true artist does not belong to applause or expectation; they belong to the truth within them.
And yet, the world offers an easier path. A safer one. As e.e. cummings warned, "To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting."
Most singers choose safety. They imitate. They perform. They hit every note without ever living them. Oscar Wilde saw it clearly: "Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation."
But the artist—the “real” artist—steps into the lacuna without fear. They make the leap. They pour meaning into truth, transforming the song from sound into something felt, something unforgettable.
As Erica Jong warns, "If you don’t risk anything, you risk even more." The singer who refuses to reveal themselves may avoid discomfort, but they also lose the chance to truly move hearts—to leave not just an impression, but an impact.
Most will play it safe. They will imitate, perform, deliver perfection. And they will be forgotten.
But the ones who risk? The ones who pour meaning into truth, who let themselves be seen?
Those are the voices that linger. Those are the artists who matter.
A singer, like any artist, does not exist to mimic or please but to reveal something essential. And that is true for all of us. Whether through music, paint, poetry, or even conversation, we are called to abandon pretense and embrace truth. To live unguarded. To stand before others—not as a perfect version of ourselves, but as our honest selves.
For in the end, it is not perfection that lasts—it is truth. And only the courageous dare to live it.
RiverSong Reflections
~Patrick Cunningham