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.
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.
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