As the weather warms in the northern hemisphere, people start to follow the examples of the animals in spring. All around me, I witness more of my fellow humans enjoying the outdoors, going to concerts, dancing, and dating. I too, have started to embrace somewhat of a winter thaw.
My hibernation of sorts began with COVID. Although I found ways to expand here and there, just as I started to get back to performing and applied for a third job, someone who found me online started harassing and then stalking me in person, and I climbed back into my shell once more. I’ve had to hide my location and keep constant vigilance and care about posting or promoting myself, even as an artist and a coach.
Despite that, I’ve continued to date, started a whole new job a year ago, and have embraced the chance to go out on my own or with crew members when visiting new cities. Still, within my own home, I’ve spent little time going out even with friends, and I haven’t gone to events by myself in ages. Until now.
Last week, I went to a new space and brought a guest, and we had an incredible time. During the evening, I met another woman who’d recently suffered a situation with a stalker. We shared experiences, commiserated, and helped each other feel sane and less alone. My guest compassionately listened and expressed his sympathy as a man that both of us had experienced such trauma. I felt heard and understood, because I took the risk of going out.
Tonight, I went out again. This time, I intentionally went alone, as I have enjoyed countless times in my adult life. My favorite activity? Spending present time with present people. Meeting strangers most often facilitates curiosity and presence, and I thrive on sharing and listening to stories.
I loved it. Not just the intimate and musical oud-accompanied Shibari performance, or the space, or the beautiful curated lighting and thought-provoking conversation prompts. Meeting like-minded people and hearing different perspectives filled my cup.
Even more than that, I challenged myself to go back out and be vulnerable in a crowd of strangers, alone at home, for the first time. I stepped back into that activity that makes me feel most alive. Unsurprisingly, I feel awake and inspired to write, just like I used to for so many years.
I don’t know what the future holds. In my mind, I carry some goals and guesses, but nothing purely certain. What I do know is that stepping back into the world of meeting people and vulnerably experiencing existence gives me a powerful taste of my best life. One day at a time.
All my life, I’ve enjoyed a wide variety of interests. I enjoy conversations about astronomy and physics as much as jazz or horticulture, and I’ve always seen myself as a bit of a Renaissance woman.
Apparently, those varied interests of mine have also seeped their way into the friendships and relationships I have, as well as the jobs I hold and careers I pursue. Yet as my horizon widens, flying through the air on a regular basis as a flight attendant while helping my life coaching clients soar in their lives, I cannot possibly imagine a future where I’d want to stop performing.
Nothing could replace the thrill of playing a part in a meaningful work of art. Perhaps someday, I’ll transition to acting more and performing more jazz when my voice ages beyond opera, but my mother birthed a performer, and I simply could not fathom a life without it.
For the next several weeks, I’d like to share a little of the deep joy and meaning I’ve found in some of my most meaningful gigs. Today, I have decided to muse about The Metropolitan Opera. How fortunate that I’ve had the opportunity to sing with such a wonderful company of talented people since finishing my master’s degree in opera performance in 2007!
In my very first season, I had the wild pleasure of being one of a record-breaking number of performers onstage in War and Peace. I don’t know that they counted the all of the animals, but “chickens and goats to stage left, horse to stage right” remains one of my favorite calls to stage to this day.
Another amazing call, “acrobat demons to stage left for the Ride to the Abyss,” brought incredible dancers and acrobats to the stage for our two gloriously staged seasons of La Damnation du Faust. Although the chorus often stood behind scrims, mostly obscured from the audience, I remember watching the lights from the house sprinkle through the scrim. As we sang Berlioz’s breathtakingly beautiful score, the lights danced in my vision and made me think I could find no more beautiful place than in that moment.
Every time I have the extreme joy of performing Turandot, my entire soul breathes a sigh of gladness when the curtain opens on Act Two to the glittering, gold set designed for that original Franco Zefirelli production. In the previous production of Otello, we fed each other apples, dodged swords and drawboards, and sang behind Renee Fleming, as she wept the most beautiful portrayal of Desdemona. I’ve sung backstage for Cavalleria Rusticana, in the balcony for Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances from Price Igor, and in a metal structure as Eleanor of Aquitaine while watching the Mark Morris dancers in Orfeo Ed Eurídice. Stephanie Blythe and Jamie Barton as Orfeos – what a glorious treat to perform with them both!
The Metropolitan Opera House continues to evolve and never ceases to surprise and delight me. In our last season, they didn’t cancel a single show due to COVID-19 and kept the company members and audience safe and thriving throughout with amazing and thorough protocols. We held a breathtaking benefit performance with our incredible Music Director Yannick Nezet-Seguin, when the war in Ukraine began in the spring. Furthermore, when we returned to perform Turandot as originally planned for Anna Netrebko, Ukrainian soprano Liudmyla Monastyrska stepped in and deftly took her place.
When I first started auditioning for the Metropolitan Opera, I thought, “I’ll just keep showing up until they either hire me or tell me to go away.” Five years later, I walked through those doors as a performer and employee, on my birthday. Still, every time I return, walk past that beautifully redesigned fountain, and step on that stage, it feels like my birthday again. What a gift to make such music and memories in such a magical place! I feel so grateful, every single time, and I can’t wait for the next.
Today, I embark on an extraordinary new journey – two in one, actually. As I swipe my fingers across my phone’s digital keyboard while flying across the country, I fulfill the first of many promises to myself to write. Promises I intend to keep.
Sometime this summer, an article caught my attention and ultimately made its way into my coaching conversations and way of life. In it, the author Jeff Haden outlined the difference between a two-way door and a one-way door in decision making. Making a two-way door decision means you can always change your mind later. Didn’t like your big move after all? Move again, or move back.
Another big point in the article caught my attention: most decisions (with major exceptions like committing murder or buying a timeshare) fall under the two-way door category. In other words, you can almost always change your mind after making a decision. Finally, most people regret not taking a chance on a big two-way door decision. At the end of their lives, they regret never having taken the risks.
At a young age, I took a lot of chances. With my rather adventurous and active sister as an example, I tried a ton of different activities and some interesting jobs that took me way outside my comfort zone. I sang, baked pizzas, taught a deaf girl how to sing, sold cameras I first had to learn how to use, counseled some overnight campers who didn’t speak English, helped run a music computing lab, waited tables, led groups of people scoring essays for standardized tests, taught young educators how to build their first websites, acted, taught music and math, and tried my hand at visual merchandising.
Before I fully immersed myself in my profession as an opera singer, I wanted to try everything. As a deeply curious woman, I’ve always longed to understand people better, and I discovered that different jobs helped me do that. I loved seeing the world through a different perspective by fully immersing myself into a new workplace and culture. It felt almost like learning a new language by moving to a new country.
Opera singing, in its own way, has also allowed me a plethora of regular changes and shifts in viewpoints. Over the past decades in my career, I’ve sung in countless opera houses and religious institutions, in different states and countries, and with so many interesting and varied people and personalities. I felt so fulfilled for so long and in many ways, I still do.
Still, all of the change I needed to face as a freelancer led me on quite the journey (and it started here with Skydiving for Pearls) of self-discovery and development, eventually inspiring me to work more directly with people to help them withstand and create meaningful change. After a year and a half of training and coaching, I earned my certification, and I have happily worked for hundreds of hours with amazing clients. I get to show up excited to help incredible people make a difference in their lives and the world, and I can’t wait to speak and write about it even more going forward.
That huge two-way door decision brought me to another one in a very surprising way. After returning to opera from the pandemic, I felt unsatisfied for his first time in ages. Despite the relief of singing in the presence of great musicians and reuniting with my friends, I dreaded feeling like a part of the set, waiting for rehearsals to end. I deeply missed working directly with people in coaching and surprisingly from my prior side job in catering, and I clearly had reached the time to consider a new direction.
Simultaneously, in walked a new person who happened to work as a flight attendant for a major airline. Hearing about his journeys, adventures, and opportunities reignited the old passion I once had to try new avenues of employment. Although as an attendant, I’d fly a bit lower than my childhood ambition to become an astronaut, I couldn’t imagine a more interesting way to shift perspectives while making a better financial future for myself.
After many months, drug and fingerprint tests, extensive background checks and mountains of paperwork, I fly through the sky to the final in-person step towards beginning a career as a flight attendant. I intend to use my likely regular commute to create a habit of writing and write the books that plead with me to bring them to an audience. I’m so nervcited about the possibility!
So many final details will work out over the next weeks and months: training, commuting, and working hard to coordinate with two important singing gigs I have this spring. When I catch myself worrying too much about my two-way door decision, I remind myself of a few important truths. I get to continue coaching. This change can help me with my writing goals. I’ll get to meet interesting people and network, and I will not give up on my drive to become a motivational speaker.
Most importantly, I can always make new decisions. Though it may transform it, this choice does not dictate the rest of my life. Unless one of these planes doesn’t land (knock wood), I get to make countless more decisions before any doors ever close for me.
What changes have you avoided because they seem too big or important, too scary or life-changing? If you are sitting on the sidelines, shying away from the life you think you might want to try, consider going through the door. What are your options, if you get to the other side and change your mind?
Most of you reading this article have options or can create them. Give your future self the gift of looking back at the end of your life with gratitude that you tried the things you wanted to do. As my plane lands, I’m about to do just that.
Update: I passed the test. My training officially starts just after two big singing gigs end late this spring, and I cannot wait to walk through that door.
As a teenager, I worked for an overnight camp. One day, my director asked if I would take two Korean campers who spoke no English at all. On that day, I learned the important lesson of agreeing to try before feeling fully ready for something. Luckily, the two girls had so much fun, they returned for a second week. I learned some fun Korean children’s games and that I could excel at far more than I realized.
In August, 2020, I completed my certification from the Co-Active Training Institute as a life coach. I remember my elation at having received that stamp of approval after a year and a half of hard work, studying, and working over a hundred hours with clients. Since then, I’ve studied, practiced, and worked as a mental fitness trainer, and I’ve compiled over half the client hours I need for the next level of certification with the International Coaching Federation.
So why haven’t I applied for the basic certification for the ICF? Why haven’t I applied to certify as a mental fitness trainer for Positive Intelligence?
Today, thanks to a fellow coach who decided recently to get his certification for ICF, I decided to cut the BS and get started on the path to claiming the certifications I’ve definitely already earned in practice. I’ve got a little work to do, some exams, and one more application to complete, but I won’t wait any longer. I just completed a practice test and scored 100%. Yeah, it’s time.
What have you avoided for fear of the unknown, lack of confidence, or the common excuse that you just don’t need something and have done fine this long without it? What’s one thing you can claim today? Ready, set, let’s go!
After years of working as a coach, my focus has grown and shifted. Where once I just wanted to help people transform, I now help emerging leaders make a significant impact for the world.
My website, however hasn’t changed. You can still learn about my training and book a session, but it says nothing about deep confidence. It says nothing about the transformative collaborations that can empower you to finally be yourself.
So, with the help of website coach and designer Michael Thomas Holmes, I’m starting fresh today. Rewriting the narrative to match my own evolution and growth, to show my clients where how too can start fresh.
Where have you outgrown your own narrative? Where do you want to let go of your old story, so you can start fresh with who you really are? Let us all know in the comments.
Despite all our perfectly presented social media posts, sometimes, life does not go as planned. Our favorite food or product gets discontinued. We wait in long lines or traffic after we’ve left a bit late for an appointment. Our health insurance denies us for a much needed procedure. Our plane trip gets cancelled. Our loved ones get sick. Someone dies. Our country gets overtaken by a hostile regime.
At the risk of going too far, most of us reading this today don’t currently face war, famine, or homelessness. Plague, yes. That said, despite our relative comfort in life compared to centuries ago, our experiences vary widely from person to person, and one person’s inconvenience might be another’s deep pain.
When we get out of bed in the morning, we expect things to go a certain way. When that doesn’t happen, what do you do?
My summer did not go as planned. I cautiously followed all Covid rules and protocols before starting a job, only to catch pink eye from someone else in the group and still have to quarantine in my room for an extended period in the middle of the gig. One of my closest friends and I spent way too much time in arguments I still don’t understand. Someone I expected to meet on vacation, who helped with a lot of our travel plans, caught Covid, and everything changed drastically.
Do I wish I had a different summer? Sometimes. In truth, I think I needed all of it. Stuck in my room for days on end, I streamed more and reached a goal of one thousand followers on Dlive. Even better, I met people on the platform I might not otherwise have known. The argument with my friend helped me more deeply understand concepts I’ll use in my book about cooperation, competition, sufficiency, and humility. Unexpectedly alone for the entire third leg of my trip, I got creative and met some fantastic humans doing work that both intrigues and inspires me.
I still have work to do, friendships to heal, and lessons from which to grow. I’m learning that suffering doesn’t stop just because I’ve reached a certain place in my development. Life isn’t always as I wish it. All things shall pass.
Today, and every day, I can choose how I handle things. As author Lynne Twist said, “We have to be willing to let go of that’s just the way it is, even if just for a moment, to consider the possibility that there isn’t a way it is or way it isn’t. There is the way we choose to act and what we choose to make of circumstances.”
So, I’ve made a little meme to remind me that when the universe takes a dump on me, I can choose to use it as fertilizer and grow. Mushrooms thrive in cow dung and apparently sometimes, so can I.
Today, I return to the Metropolitan Opera, where I’ve been fortunate to sing since I finished my master’s in opera in 2007. My mind racing about the gig, a radical appearance change I’m planning, a trip out of town, someone coming to visit… I struggled to sleep last night.
I’ve spent my day denying and wondering about my apparent “first day of school” excitement. After all, I have already gone back to my singing work this summer, in Le Roi Arthus at Bard Summerscape. I’ve burst the bubble of coming back after a year and a half of hiding my voice behind technology and the walls of my home.
On the way there, as I started to think about the people I love but never see, I immediately understood. When I went back to Bard this summer, I felt nervous. The whole situation seemed foreign at first, but when I saw my friend Marie, I cried, and it all released. I missed her!
Today, as I think about my friends Scott, Laura, Bryan, Joe, Mary, Ned, Sunny – and so many others – I realize why I couldn’t sleep. What a pleasure to connect with these beloved people in my life, some of whom I haven’t seen since this whole thing began.
In singing, sometimes people focus on the competition, name dropping, showing off their accomplishments and upcoming gigs, and generally peacocking to rise up above the crowd. I love my crowd. I love my collaborations. I adore my connections.
On my way now, I can’t wait to see everyone and find out whom they’ve become over this long time. I can already hear their gorgeous voices and feel their goodness and charm. Even behind masks, I’m really excited for my first day of school.
Stargazing tonight under a perfect summer sky, I stumbled upon stars I believe my eyes had not yet met. Delphinus, to me a new constellation, suddenly clear but with faint light, held my gaze and my curiosity. After hours of solitary joy and contemplation, I made my way back to my room past a graceful deer and the enchanting song of the cicadas singing me a lullaby.
Even with the sweet sounds, my mind searched for meaning, wondering what Delphinus meant. Surely, some tale must resonate with my life or my current situation. Aren’t signs always fun?
In the first tale I found, Delphinus, a messenger, convinces Amphitrite (who ran away to protect her virginity) to marry Poseidon. Definitely no longer relevant. In the second, a dolphin saves a Greek poet named Arion of Lesbos, charmed by the dirge Arion sang before throwing himself into the sea. I love singing but definitely not oceanic suicide.
Honestly, I’ve never met a dolphin. I understand that, like humans, they have great intelligence but sometimes don’t understand the concept of consent. No part of these narratives really spoke to me.
On the other hand, meeting Delphinus made a surprising and profound impact on me on this beautiful late July night. Much like meeting someone to whom I felt uniquely drawn, the moment had such depth of feeling, as if a new door I’d never noticed stood right in front of me, ready to open.
When encountering a new constellation, or a new person, perhaps it doesn’t matter what stories other people have told about that collection of stars and matter in the past. Tonight I found something new and beautiful, and I intend to seek it out again and as often as the night sky and my circumstances allow. I do not know what my future holds, but I don’t always need the past to tell me. I look forward with joy to connecting the unseen dots of my future, together with Delphinus.
Right now, I’m taking Skydiving for Pearls for a spin. This, my vehicle for change. It’s time to exercise my writing practice in a clear, intentional, and vulnerable way by once again showing up every day, five times a week.
Everything I do in this blog pushes me outside of my comfort zone, as does this. Whatever I write each day, whether for my book, articles I’ll publish, gratitude journals, poetry, and everything else will land here first, unedited and unafraid.
Stories have the power to persuade us in a thousand surprising directions. Recently, I felt the pull of three different roller coasters at once in my own narrative. In letting go of that story today, I can just exist and start again.
After so many decades of doing, I now recognize the power that being gives me. The immeasurable wealth of showing up as the unique and alive human that I am.
Meditation took me off my roller coasters today and brought me back to step one. I believe in this modest beginning and the start of a new story, where through writing, I can help us let go of our false narratives together and just be.
Do you have black friends afraid for their lives right now? I do. One friend commented earlier that her daughter asked her where they were going to live now. Another said she was afraid to go outside. When I was a child, I had a voice here and there that would say things like, “Why are you watching that colored people show?” and “There goes the neighborhood!” You know what else I had from a young age? Common decency. And I told those adult voices they were wrong the minute I heard them, every time.
There are plenty of us in this world who know inherently that every human being deserves the same rights to freedom, safety, and love, no matter what bullshit we’ve heard from the people who couldn’t see past their biases. To those of you who are suffering, I am so sorry. I love you. I love you. I love you. To those of you who are good and can see yourself in your neighbor – PLEASE shout your fucking kindness from the rooftops – now and as often as possible in your lifetime.
Stop worrying about whether people will see you as a “white savior” if you do too much or get something wrong. Stop worrying about being right and just be love. If you want to learn more, learn more. Read more, ask questions, and really listen to the answers. Be humble. But go and scream goodness and equality and love, because if the only people who are shouting are shouting hate, we will never climb out of it. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Skydiving for Pearls 