(Minghui.org)

Dear revered Master,Dear fellow practitioners,

This year I became a Master of Ceremonies (MC) for Shen Yun performances. When I first heard about the opportunity to become an MC, I was doubtful about myself and hesitated to apply for the role. I understood that the preparation and the hosting itself would take up a lot of time. I have known Shen Yun since I was a child and it was difficult to visualize myself hosting it. Also, I had zero experience in this area.

In short, I didn’t particularly want to become an MC, because I would have to change the pace of my life, step out of my comfort zone, and invest a lot of time to master the skills. But I thought that it would be regretful if some Shen Yun shows had to cancel if there was no MC. With this in mind, I signed up for the audition and decided to see if I was suitable for the role.

After I submitted my application, I didn’t get a reply for several months. Thinking that there might be other candidates, I subconsciously dropped the idea. I even thought that if I was indeed cast, I might turn it down because I had no more vacation days to take off for the MC training in New York.

Surprisingly, one day, I got a message asking if I was still interested in becoming an MC and if I could imagine myself in that role. I immediately felt a huge sense of responsibility, and felt I wanted to run away from it. Although the message only inquired about my interest, I sensed that they had made the decision to choose me. I later heard that the decision was not final at that time and that there was another suitable candidate. Had I known this back then, I might have responded differently.

Since I assumed I had been chosen, I thought that I would regret it if I refused, because Shen Yun needed an MC. In the back of my mind, I already knew my decision even though I hadn’t made it final yet. To make time for the training, I worked overtime to accumulate more time off.

During a conversation with a fellow practitioner, I realized again that my path was predetermined long ago and that I should not resist.

In New York, when I stepped on stage for the first time to practice, even facing empty seats made me nervous. I began to recite the lines I’d already memorized and slowly became more comfortable on stage. When someone walked by at the back of the theater, I stuttered. I felt uneasy with someone listening. I gradually adjusted as time went on.

Another MC later came to my training and listened to me say my lines. He gave me suggestions for improvement at the end of each session. Initially I was nervous about being scrutinized, and the analysis made it hard for me to concentrate. Later, I practiced with another MC on a small side stage with a microphone and lights. We took turns saying our lines and giving each other feedback. When I did it the first time, I strongly resisted going on stage. I was nervous and my heart was racing. Facing an unfamiliar environment, I knew that I must overcome my nerves and face it bravely.

Looking back as I write this sharing, I comprehend that becoming an MC required me to overcome setbacks and step out of my comfort zone one step at a time. I was gradually pushed into greater challenges with a level of difficulty that I could handle. Even though I felt uncomfortable when I encountered them, I was clearly aware that only through these experiences could I grow.

During my preparation in New York, many MCs gave me valuable advice. During one training session, we simulated a real performance in a large theater. Just before it was my turn, one of the MCs reminded me once again that I must never forget my lines. I thought to myself that I already knew my lines by heart. But when I stood on stage a few seconds later, I was surprised that I had completely forgotten every single one; I couldn’t recall even a snippet. It was as they had disappeared from my memory. I immediately recognized that I wasn’t focused enough and failed because of complacency.

After I returned home from New York, I continued to practice my lines at home every day. If I didn’t practice enough one day, either due to my busy schedule or my laziness, I became distracted and had a hard time focusing. Practicing a lot every day gave me more focus, and I was able to practice more efficiently.

A few weeks before my first performance, I read a sharing article in which the author described the scenes he saw in other dimensions during a Shen Yun performance. When the MC came on stage to announce the final program, he made a tiny mistake, which caused the main consciousness of some of the audience members to lose focus for a second. They were disconnected from the golden path leading to heaven. Some of them were kings or queens of their kingdoms, and they were suspended between heaven and earth and unable to return.

I saw that the Shen Yun MCs shouldered great responsibility, which motivated me to practice even harder. On the day of my first performance, I was very nervous, but I knew that this was my predestined path and I must keep going. I took the task seriously and believed that if I stayed highly focused, everything would go smoothly.

The first show was extremely challenging for me both physically and mentally. I couldn’t relax, but that also kept me focused. Towards the second half of the show, my back and head started to hurt, and the pain became so intense at the end that I just wanted to lie down and rest. That night I had a fever and perspired a great deal. After sharing with other fellow practitioners, I was aware that my body was undergoing purification for this new challenge.

A few days later, I had a fever again. I sensed that my body needed more thorough purification. My next performance would be in a few days, but my fever had not subsided.

Someone advised me to take nutritional supplements or visit a doctor in order to recover quickly and be ready for the next performance. I wanted to do everything I could to get back on stage, but I didn’t think that advice was right and still regarded the fever as my sickness karma.

While resting in bed, I recalled a passage of the Fa that I had read earlier:

“If he were to receive his Ph.D. degree, he would have a good job and future ahead of him. And naturally, his salary would be high—that goes without saying. It would be higher than that of regular people or an average person. Don’t people just live for those things? He could even let go of those things.”

“With regard to these people and these types of situations, I said that since they could let go of their emotion, renown, and self-interest, why not also let go of the very fear of taking lives itself? Wouldn’t that be discarding the final attachment?” (Teachings at the Conference in Switzerland)

I asked myself why I did not want to take nutritional supplements or seek medical help. On the surface, doing so would lower the fever and allow me to temporarily regain my health so I could host the next performance. But it would have delayed the removal of my sickness karma.

I read this during Fa study a few weeks after the show season was over:

“As to whether there are old forces interfering, when you’re changing your own most surface bodies there is a portion that you need to endure yourselves. But relatively speaking it isn’t much, and it won’t have too much of an impact on validating the Fa. When big hardships come along, that has to be the evil interfering, and you have to send righteous thoughts to eliminate it!” (“Fa Teaching Given at the Metropolitan New York Fa Conference,” Collected Teachings Given Around the World Volume III)

I enlightened that my fever interfered with me during some performances, which was not simply due to my sickness karma, but was the interference of evil. I recognized that I should have focused on eliminating them with resolute righteous thoughts.

Once during the show, when I was preparing to say the lines between each program, I noticed that I had human emotions about the lines. I liked certain ones and disliked others. Some lines were longer than others, and some had difficult-to-pronounce sentences. All these small details made me look forward to or resist saying them. These human notions intensified my nervousness.

I also remembered the video in which a Shen Yun artist shared that whenever an accident or setback arose during a performance, he would look inward and remind himself that the performance was not about him, but about delivering the best possible performance to the audience. My notions about each line prevented me from focusing. After I let go of them, I was able to do better and handle complex lines with less tension.

I was also constantly tested after each show with both high praise and sharp criticism. Especially after one show, the first person I met severely criticized my performance, pointing out areas where I needed to improve. I tried to remain calm, feeling guilty that I hadn’t done well. The second person I met then praised me, telling me that I did great in some areas. Both were veteran MCs and knew exactly what they were talking about, so I took their feedback seriously. Upon reflection afterwards, I realized that what both of them said was meant to temper my heart. On the surface, they commented on my performance, but on a deeper level, they tested to see if my heart would be moved by criticism or praise.

The above are some of my cultivation experiences and my limited understanding at my current level. If there is anything not in line with the Fa, please kindly correct me.

Thank you, honorable Master.Thank you, fellow practitioners.

(Selected sharing article from the 2025 Austrian Falun Dafa Cultivation Experience Sharing Conference)