“Don’t let your learning lead to knowledge. Let your learning lead to action.” ~Jim Rohn
A friend of mine recently asked me if she could pay me to help her rewrite her resume. Another asked me if he could pay me to help him craft a cover letter. I turned them both down. I offered to do it for nothing. I’ve been very fortunate in my life to have so many people who have helped me along my path, especially when I was down and out. I could spend my entire life paying forward those favors and it won’t ever be enough. I’ve been blessed by a lot of angels.
The knowledge I’ve gained from my many experience has given me a rich life. However, the true value of that knowledge isn’t in my ownership of it. The real value is revealed when I share it and use it to make my corner of the world a better place in the best way I know how. Take what you know and give it away. Let it be a light for others. In time it will come back to you in ways you never thought possible.
We’ve all got dark corners – in our past, present, and future. If we live long enough and fully enough, we all find misfortune in some form or another. And that misfortune becomes a part of us as much as any joy or success. The darkness has its place, too, if for nothing else than to give us empathy, compassion, and understanding for the dark corners that others have.
My wise and dear friend, Sara, helped me realize something about our darkness. Somewhere buried deep in your shadow is a false truth that you believe because of the things that have hurt you. Don’t shrug off your sadness or pain. Instead, look at it not with a stone cold stare but with gentleness and love and kindness. Ask your doubt why it’s there and what it believes about you. Are you a fraud? Are you difficult to love? Are you enough? These are the questions hidden in the shadows of our lives that lurk and pop their heads up when we least expect them and least need them—when we’re already down and out and trying to stay afloat.
Sara recently helped me uncover the questions in my shadow. While I have no answers to them yet, I now know what they are for the very first time. She gave me an amazing gift—the ability to see my shadow without flinching, shrinking, or denying its existence. My shadow and I aren’t totally comfortable with each other yet, but we’re on our way. And we’re dancing.
“It’s all messy: the hair, the bed, the words, the heart. Life.” ~William Leal
All we want is order, right? We want to be in the groove, moving easily through life with no sorrows, regrets, anxieties, or fears. If only that could be true, at least for a moment. The older I get, the more I realize that the beauty of life is in the mess of it all. We have to let others see our mess, and be willing to see, accept, and love the mess of others. We’ve got to let it all hang out if we’re going to hang together. This means being vulnerable, and here’s why that’s so important: to find the people really meant to be in our lives, we have to be able to be who we are without pretenses, without carefully constructed facades. No more hiding. No more pretending. No more guarding. Let’s open up, and create a space so safe in our corner of the world that we encourage other people to do the same. Let’s make ourselves available to be in every moment, to be present in the presence of others, to be in the mess of life instead of always trying to scrub it clean. Join me?
On Saturday, I wanted to get back to editing my novel, Where the Light Enters. I’ve left it alone for some time. I’ve been busy getting the rest of my life under control and I had a few distractions take up a lot of my headspace the past few months. Now I’m back to editing and revising. I missed Emerson Page.
I decided that I wanted to get out of the house to do this editing. I hopped on the metro and visited a number of different cafes in different neighborhoods. All of them were too crowded. I love The National Portrait Gallery’s courtyard so I stopped in there only to find a rap music event happening. After over an hour of searching, I decided to just head home to my neighborhood. I almost went right home, feeling more than slightly defeated, when I thought of Qualia Coffee, a cafe and micro roaster in my neighborhood that I’ve been meaning to visit.
Perfection! Qualia is actually much bigger inside than it looks. They brew a perfect cup of coffee and didn’t mind a bit that I sat there all afternoon. They have great art, fun music, and a number of customers working away on laptops. I learned my lesson: sometimes what we need is right in front of us if only we will open our eyes to see it.
“The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.” ~ Kahil Gabran
In one of the early chapters of my book, Where the Light Enters, I reference this quote by Kahil Gabran and found it to be even more poignant now than it was when I first decided to use it. My friend, Rachel, recently posted about the joy of sorrow and its ability to show us the depth of our emotions. Gabran’s quote gets at the same idea.
When we’re hurting all we want to do is stop hurting. We just want it to go away. Instead, what if we could find a way to be just as grateful for sorrow as we are for joy? Sorrow means that we were deeply affected, that we opened ourselves to possibility. We let ourselves be vulnerable. And that doesn’t make us sad or pathetic or weak. It makes us strong and brave and courageous.
It’s okay to care for our wounds, to be really good to ourselves in an effort toward healing so that we can again be open. It takes time but don’t spend it regretting your decision to be open and wishing away sorrow. Welcome it in. Sit with it. Learn from it. It’s got so much to teach us.
This week I felt a big energetic shift. I opened my eyes one morning and everything looked different. Overnight, something had lifted and in its place I felt only lightness. I can’t remember any dream I had that night. There wasn’t any message I received in any channel that caused a change. All I know is that I was different and the world was different and that was enough of a reason to smile. I walked to work in the cool, bright sunshine and felt nothing but grace and gratitude. It’s not easy to change our mind, but once we do we find that everything else changes, too.
Every story needs failure, especially your own. We love an underdog. We love to know a character, real or fictional, who fights his or her way back to the light. And the further they fall and the steeper their climb, the better. Maybe right now you’re failing at something. Join the club. No matter what’s happening in our lives here’s what we can count on: at least one thing, no matter how small, isn’t the way we want it to be. That’s okay. Keep reaching. Keep pulling yourself up. You’re going to stumble. There will be some serious cuts and bruises along the way. Some so serious that you think you’ll never recover. But you will. You are so much braver, so much more resilient, than you think you are. You’ll only discover this when you’re truly being tested, so take the test. I promise you that someday, maybe long into the future, you’re going to get a summit and the view is going to be more than worth it.
Life is never perfect. There’s always some piece that needs fixing and tending and change. Maybe it’s your job, or your relationships, or where you live. The best we can do is enjoy where we are, in the midst of the mess and the disorder and the chaos. If we can pick our heads up and look around and look past all the disappointment, we can find the goodness. It might be just a speck far in the distance, but it’s there. These days, I’m trying to focus my energy on what’s right and not what’s wrong. It’s challenging. Sometimes it seems downright impossible, but I try anyway. And in the trying, I find a way forward. It’s not about being lucky or fortunate. It’s about being so determined that I just refuse to give up. I believe in a brighter tomorrow and that belief is enough to see me through another day.
I knew I loved these birds! “Legends say that hummingbirds float free of time, carrying our hopes for love, joy and celebration. Hummingbirds open our eyes to the wonder of the world and inspire us to open our hearts to loved ones and friends. Like a hummingbird, we aspire to hover and to savor each moment as it passes, embrace all that life has to offer and to celebrate the joy of everyday. The hummingbird’s delicate grace reminds us that life is rich, beauty is everywhere, every personal connection has meaning, and that laughter is life’s sweetest creation.” ~ PAPYRUS
As someone who’s used social media for everything from meeting new friends to learning to generating career opportunities to dating, I’ve been thinking a lot about the underside of social media. What if it doesn’t help us connect? What if people don’t like our posts or accept our invitations or offer support when we so clearly needed it? What if we do that hideous comparison game of viewing our own real lives with all their difficulties side-by-side with the perfect lives that people espouse to live via their shiny screens? If we already have anxiety, and who among us doesn’t?, interacting on social media is nearly as frightening as the real world. It’s yet another avenue for rejection and disconnection.
These are the kinds of questions and scenarios that Dear Evan Hansen raises in its gorgeous premiere production at Arena Stage in Washington D.C. The odd and awkward actions online and off that are showcased made me laugh, cry, and contemplate just how hard it is to wrestle through our digital world and navigate its border with the physical world.
There were so many times that my heart just hurt for Evan Hansen, a sweet and shy teenager who’s just trying to get by without having a breakdown. He doesn’t have a lot of friends—he never has—and his family life is less than ideal. He always feels separate and apart from the world around him. He’s someone with a good heart who just can’t connect with people, sometimes rubbing them the wrong way with his awkwardness. He reminded me of a man I used to know, a man I wish I still knew, who also suffers from the same social anxieties and misfortunes with people. I sent that man a virtual hug during the show, not online but in my heart, and I hope wherever he is that he felt it.
Unlike most musicals, Dear Evan Hansen‘s songs aren’t commercial breaks. They move the story along with power, grace, and humor in just the right amount at just the right time. Ben Platt’s voice and demeanor exudes charm and heartbreak, grace and raw honesty. I wanted to run up on stage numerous times, give him a hug, and tell him that it’s all going to be okay. Because that’s really all he needs to know—that someone’s going to stand by him, listen to him, and care about him, especially when he feels uncomfortable and frustrated. He needs to know that someone’s going to be patient with him when he can’t be patient with himself. Isn’t that what we all need and want? Isn’t that the real definition of love? Tom Stoppard said, “It’s no trick loving somebody at their best. Love is loving them at their worst.” I agree.
After seeing Dear Evan Hansen, I didn’t have the best weekend. I’ve got a few personal situations I’m juggling that feel sad and confusing. To be honest, I’m at a little bit of a loss of what to do, say, or feel. My heart and mind feel jumbled and tired. All I could think to do to feel better was smile more, reach out more, and feel more. The instinct might be to shrink away from discomfort, but thanks to Dear Evan Hansen, I leaned into my weekend. The results were mixed, but feeling all of it actually felt better.
And that’s the power of theater. It reminds us that we aren’t alone in our experiences. So much of what we think, feel, see, and bear is shared across space and time by so many others. At its core, Dear Evan Hansen is about friendship and our need to feel cared for and accepted, flaws and all. See it. You’ll walk away a better, kinder person for carrying this story with you online and off.
Dear Evan Hansen will be at Arena Stage until August 23rd. And I’m sure it will have a very long life in many cities across the country soon.
Christa Avampato 