Choose Your Own Adventure
I never cease to be amazed at the way many things can be true at once. I’ve been simultaneously elated and exhausted, intrepid and brave, angry and bemused, and a whole host of emotions and mental states in between, sometimes all at once. Such is the complex nature of humanity (and Nature). We are all capable of experiencing a multitude of thoughts and emotions simultaneously, without combusting.
And yet, despite all the vicissitudes in life, our societal programming seems to constantly try steering us toward a singular path, a particular way of being, or a specific line of work. The world seems to like its genres and labels and sure, they can be useful when trying to connect people with what they like, want, or need, but this idea that we are one thing, we can be only one thing, is dangerous and often debilitating. It can even, if we let it, keep us from following our dreams, our passions, and even our purpose.
In the early 2000’s, I was feeling the pull of this social conditioning. I worked as a teacher at a beautiful Montessori school and I loved it. I loved teaching, I loved the families in my community, I loved my coworkers, I even loved the class chickens (but not the class rats, that’s a story for another day). I also loved music and performing, but often felt the two things at odds with each other. I loved singing, I loved my band, I loved the music, I loved my audience, I loved my colleagues. But, it was challenging to play mid-week gigs, especially when they were out of town, and then teach my students the next day. It was challenging to be all in with my work as a teacher, and my work as a vocalist. The worlds seemed at times completely incongruent and I often struggled with the thought I might have to choose one or the other in order to serve my community(s) to the best of my ability.
Never was that clearer to me than the end of a week-long camping trip with my class when I woke up with chills and body aches. We’d already sent 3 students home from that trip with what had turned out to be the flu, and I woke up in my sleeping bag that Friday morning, feeling like I’d been hit by a bus. My voice was wrecked. I sounded like Joe Cocker, and I had a gig that night. Actually, I was playing a festival all weekend, with shows each day. And as I lay there, feeling abysmal, I had no idea how I was going to sing any of the pure, ethereal, or lilting vocals I was known for. By the time I’d made it out to the festival, I’d had about a gallon of hot tea, and felt better, but only marginally so. When I took the stage, I did end up singing a few songs, but most of that set ended up being my band playing tunes. The next day wasn’t much better, but by Sunday, I was able to sing a few more songs during my sets. Honesty was all I had to offer at the time and thankfully, it was well received (I was even invited back to play that festival in subsequent years, despite only having sung a handful of songs over the weekend due to illness). Everyone had a great time, and I connected with some new fans despite having a temporarily gravelly voice.
After that experience, I really sat with what to do about teaching. I’ve been a teacher most of my adult life and I love it. I love singing too. And the fact that things (illness) picked up in the line of duty as a teacher prohibited me from doing my job as a singer was gut wrenching. At the time, I felt strongly that I would have to choose. Either/or. I didn’t see a way I could continue doing both if one so profoundly impacted the other. And it broke my heart to have to choose one or the other. So, I sat with it. I was under contract for the remainder of the school year anyway and there were still several months left in the term. So, I kept up with the teaching and continued performing with my band, all the while sitting with what felt like a momentous decision. A fork in the road.
One night at a party, I had a conversation with a well-known actor and musician. I asked him which he liked better, being a musician or being an actor. He told me he liked both as each had its own merits, and he loved that he got to do both. When I asked him if he had to choose, which he would choose, to my surprise, he got a little edgy. He told me he actually hated that question because he doesn’t have to choose, and he won’t choose. He shared that he can do both, be both, and there is no reason to choose one thing over the other. He said if you love something, do it. And it’s okay to love more than one thing. While I intrinsically knew this to be true, I’d found myself going down the path of either/or where my own passions were concerned, rather than yes/and. That artist’s passion for multiple things was (and is) evident, and he’s still working as both a musician and an actor to this day - in fact, in several of his projects, he’s married the two worlds.
I was both relieved, and inspired by that conversation. I mean, here was someone who was doing more than one thing. Creating in more than one arena. And they were balancing it all, and enjoying it all. If he could do it, I could too. His optimism and staunch belief in the ability to do and be more than one thing, and to do them well, inspired me to not choose between two things I loved, but rather to choose them BOTH. That artist’s way of looking at things still impacts me to this day (that’s part of why my writing and my music are both included on my website now). That conversation with him emboldened me to embrace my multifaceted self and find a way to do the things I love. All of them. In the midst of a crowd, I was encouraged by someone else living life on their terms, given a visceral reminder of the power of AND.
We can be, and often are, many things. We hold a variety of roles simultaneously in our lives. Why would our creative lives be any different? After all, it’s all life. Our life. And we get to choose how we live it and where we spend our time, energy, and attention. Here’s to embracing the power of AND, and doing the things we love. All of them.