We are not empty. And we will rise.

November 9, 2016 5:55am

Donald Trump has been elected to the presidency of the United States, but that does not mean he’s won.

He and the people who support him only win if we allow despair to swallow us up whole.

I haven’t slept since the news broke. Disbelief settled in my heart and I thought I might actually vomit. But a still, small voice was louder than the fear that was pressing in. It rumbled, “But the artists…the movers…the shakers…all who came before…this election does not mean their fights were in vain. This is not the end, unless we decide it is. And I say it’s not. And my friends say it’s not. And a hoard of other people say, it’s not. We will call on the words of our ancestors, and we will feel the best parts of them—their endurance and fire and drive—echoing down through the ages, fanning the flames in our hearts.

We enter what I am sure will be the most trying four years the United States has faced in our lifetime. And the easiest thing to do is call upon our rage to spit hatred right back in the faces of hegemonic rule. But I urge us to pause and breathe. Then speak and listen.

The reality is that many of us have spent so much time shutting down the other side that we’ve lost our ability to converse. Bipartisanship and reaching across the aisle is not solely the job of Congress. It’s on us.

This country was founded on the principle of government by and for the people. So we the people need to set the tone and lead by example.

With the interconnectedness provided by social media, it seems like we’re the generation with the best tools for successful organizing, change-making, and activism. But clicking “Like” and “Share” is not activism. I am entirely guilty of lethargically participating in the world around me, and I recognize it is due to my position of privilege as a white, straight, cis female. And I’m sorry. I am so sorry to all my friends with identities that lie outside those boxes, because I have let you down. But I would like to do better. I am ready to stand/march/ride/call/write/act with you. I will actively seek out opportunities to do this, but if you have a cause to which I can lend my voice, please tell me.

Within you is a great well where strength resides. I promise if you drop a pebble down and listen carefully, you’ll hear a splash, not a clang. We are not empty. And we will rise.

All the love,
Jenna

A Belated New Year's Post

Hindsight is a beautiful thing, isn’t it? As I’m sitting here contemplating all the things that had to happen in order for me to arrive at this decision I’m realizing how grateful I am for missed opportunities and heartache. My life was headed down a certain path as a result of careful planning, and I’m sure I would have been very happy in that alternate timeline. But God decided to intervene and give me a year filled with risk and surprises. One of the mantras I try to live by is “Allow yourself to be surprised.” It’s about listening to the small voice in my head that says, “Hey! That might be cool! Let’s go do that!” I spent a long time telling that voice to shut up and sit down.

The conversations generally went something like this:

Small Voice: Hey! That might be cool! Let’s go do that!

Me: Pipe down! We have worked very hard to get here, and you will not ruin it just because you want to try new things.

Small Voice: Yeah, but maybe it will make us happier!

Me: We’re plenty happy, thank you very much.

Small Voice: Um, yeah…okay, sure.

**4 weeks later**

Me: Maybe I should have listened to you. I’m kind of wishing we had done that thing.

Small Voice: Told you so.

And after having that same conversation multiple times over a number of years, I decided it was finally time to listen to my Small Voice. And once I did I was happier, more fulfilled and energized. 

Go figure. 

So last spring when things felt…horrible, I attempted to adopt an attitude of possibility, because that's what my Small Voice was suggesting. 

Small Voice: Maybe things didn't turn out the way you planned so we could take other opportunities. Look at how many options we have! 

Me: You have reached the voicemail box of Jenna. She's very sad right now. Please leave your message after the beep.

Small Voice: I'll call back later.

Thank goodness I have a persistent Small Voice. 

I think I surprised some people with my choices. I was asked “Why?” a number of times, and was somewhat disappointed that my response of “Because I want to!” wasn’t sufficient. To be honest, I couldn’t pinpoint the exact “why”, but it didn’t matter. I was following my instincts, and it felt good.

So I went to Gloucester with the firm belief that there was something BIG waiting for me there. 2015 was going to be my Year of Possibility! And I got there, and it was somewhat of a mess. The actual art being created was of a high caliber, but some of the “powers-that-were” made poor decisions, threatening the integrity of this 36-year-old theatre. And they made it really difficult to work there. I almost quit. But my Small Voice reminded me of the faith that had brought me to Gloucester in the first place, and I wasn’t ready to give up on that. So I stayed, and I got to work with some amazing people. I forged relationships with the people that mattered and tried not to worry too much about those that didn’t. They ended up quitting half-way through the season anyway, at which point things greatly improved.

I still wasn’t sure why I had been brought to Gloucester, and then December came. A director I worked with in Gloucester had asked me to send her my resume for a Celtic gig she did every year. I thought, “I like music. I like jobs. I don’t have anything slated at Gloucester for December. Sure!” I had no idea how big of a deal this show is in Boston. I started piecing it together little by little, and both my nerves and excitement grew. In the last two weeks of my time in Massachusetts, I had the wonderful opportunity of working on Boston NPR’s A Christmas Celtic Sojourn as an assistant stage manager and wardrobe supervisor.

As soon as the musicians began warming up on the first day of rehearsal, I knew I was in the right place. My musician’s heart had been aching to be a part of live music again, and here it was. I was getting paid to sit in a room and listen to world-renowned musicians make stunning art. I couldn’t believe it. I was full to bursting.

And as I spent time in Boston, walking through the Common and making art with truly incredible people I thought, “Maybe this is why I came to Gloucester. Maybe I was supposed to find a new city and new people that make me grow in new ways.” Suddenly the idea of staying in Boston wasn't ludicrous.

After guiltily telling my friends I wouldn’t be moving to Chicago after all, I decided to give Boston a try. After all, it's not as if Chicago is going anywhere. So I’m moving back to New England in April, hopefully to continue working with some of the amazing people I’ve met over the last year. Or maybe I’ll teach. I'm open to possibilities. I’m not positive that this is the right call, but I also feel like there isn’t a wrong choice. So here's to 2016, my Year of Doing Things That Scare And Excite Me All At Once! 

It's a working title.