Opus
My grandmother this morning told me by phone that she and the rest of the family, meaning my grandfather, aunt, and one cousin who still live in Redding, have been waiting for me to come to this decision."We didn't want to say anything like 'You are wasting your talent,'" she said. "We figured you just needed to go through what you needed to go through and eventually you'd get back to it."
My grandmother was referring to my obsessive avoidance of my past life in music. My experience in business and nonprofit management really began to ramp up in the mid-90s when I was still in college. My involvement in music (teaching, performing, directing) began to taper off in 2001 after I decided doing eight shows a week in New York wasn't for me and that I was enjoying the challenge in my new found "business digs" on 41st and Third Ave.
I even began to secretly look down on artists, teachers, and musicians. That truth needs no more consideration, except that it was one of the stupidest thoughts I've ever had.
At this point, I've made fine money. I've lived humbly. In fact, "humble living" has been most of my life.
But I've also been running scared. Afraid of valuing myself. Unable to feel my own worth. Believing the J-O-Y song from childhood that basically put Jesus first, Yourself last, and Others in between.
I have decided during the past two months that the universe finally said, "It's time to do what you know. Quit dicking around. Here, have a dose of this and a dose of that, and come back to me when you've had enough."
So I am purposefully rewriting my life. Not in the sense that I will fictionalize my past. Not at all. In fact, my work forward will allow me to embrace all that I have done and gained in the process.
Rather, I am rewriting the tablets of my life by my rules, making informed choices that wouldn't have been informed had I not grown through these experiences. I will not apologize for the two seemingly unrelated areas of growing expertise I bring to the world: music and resume writing. In fact, I'm not only returning "home" to music; I'm also going to invest in my ongoing education in music and writing. They are the two things I love most.
I realized this week that my departure from music teaching was largely based on a book title in one of my college classes on education. The title: "Those Who Can, Teach." The play on words was intended to encourage students to become teachers. In my own experience, however, I learned a nasty phrase I hadn't heard before: "Those who can't, teach." I was repulsed that consensus might think I couldn't because I had decided to become a teacher.
I grew up admiring teachers and wanting to be one. In fact, I started teaching early in life because I didn't realize I shouldn't. Then that phrase caught me by surprise, embarrassed me, and set me on a departure course from anything related to education.
Two-thousand and eight represents a jumping off point. I'm jumping off of the "you're our employee so we promise to pay you every two weeks" bandwagon. Truth is, they could kick me off that wagon anytime they want to, so I'm not really guaranteed anything. But I can be in charge of my own destiny and shape it any way I please with the skills I bring to the world.
I'm jumping into the deep end -- as unapologetically as I can allow myself. I have a choice to believe in the fact that I believe in myself. And to unapologetically let the world know what I think is important; not allow the world to dictate what it thinks I should be doing.
And in truth, the world didn't do any of that. I allowed external influences to build castles of doubt in my own head. So instead of unnecessary finger pointing and blame shifting, I've simply made the decision to go forward.
Now universe. Open up to me. Don't leave me on the street. Don't let me fail my responsibilities. I'm here to work hard and shape my life as I see it in my minds eye.
And by the way, consensus will no longer be my green light. It will no longer restrict or confine me, or motivate me to go a direction I don't want to go but think I should. This is my story and I'm ready to explore what is yet to be written.
Jared, December 1, 2007
posted by Jay @ 12:15 PM
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