When I moved to Maui, I had no idea what to expect; I’d visited on a couple of occasions (and I hadn't really liked it, to be honest; compared to Kauaʻi and da’ Big Island, it seemed pretty “touristy”), but I didn’t have a real feel for the place as its own place.
When I moved, I had some rather vague hopes that I would be somehow “different” in a new place (and Maui certainly qualified); that by moving somewhere where I didn’t know anyone I would be magically transformed into something different than I had been in Lancaster, that I’d behave differently just because no one I met would know how I’d behaved before.
It isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever thought, but it isn’t the brightest, either.
Oh, there were little differences—I smiled a bit more, didn’t avoid eye contact quite so much—but I was still the me I’d always been. The radical transformation I sought was going to require more than a mere change of venue, but I was impatient and wanted results now!
Even though a change in venue didn’t change me the way I thought it should, it didn’t take long for Maui to capture my heart. Away from the resorts, I met the same small-town Hawaiʻi with which I first fell in love on my first visit to Kauaʻi in 2000. I fell in love with the place, with my students, with the people, with the culture, and (of course!) with the theatre ʻohana. And as I settled in, I went back to work on me, courting I knew not what, unwilling to stay as I was.
Mind, it isn’t that I thought I was terrible, or a mess. In my head, I knew full well that I had a lot going on. But because knowing isn’t the same as believing and what I’d always believed wasn’t nearly as nice as what I “knew,” what I had in my head wasn’t nearly enough. My affect and my reactions manifested my beliefs (that I was unattractive, unworthy, foolish, etc.) rather than my knowledge (that I was attractive, worthy, smart, etc.)
So I worked, and I made progress; not nearly fast enough to suit my impatient heart, but still progress. My self-perception has always been notoriously intransigent, so it should have come as no surprise at all that progress was slow; the real surprise (at the time) was that I made any progress at all. Progress, however slow, and being where I (somehow!) knew I belonged added savor to every day. And thankfully, the Maui theatre community is vibrant and alive and loving. just as I had done in Lancaster, here I dove headlong into theatre.
And, just as on the mainland, people somehow saw past my poor self-perception and pitched in to help me see myself more as they did. Just as on the mainland, they became coaches and cheerleaders and exemplars; they applied themselves for my benefit. As slow as my growth seemed, at least I was (am!) loved, and knew (and know!) it.
Then came Rent on Maui.
It’s a show I love dearly, one of maybe three musicals that are rooted deeply in my heart. The theatre company, Maui On Stage, chose their Production/Facilities Manager—a gifted actor, musician, and all-around theatre artist—to direct, and selected a phenomenal musician and teacher as music director. They in turn assembled a passionate, committed, gifted, and above all else loving cast which (to my then-surprise and now-and-everlasting joy) included me.
It’s an unwise but deeply human thing to compare oneself with others. I found myself among talents that (in my perception) towered over mine and I wondered, “What the hell am I doing here?” In my self-doubt and self-consciousness, I felt seriously out of place, but Oh! How I wanted to belong!
Because, you see, each and every member of that cast is brilliant and gorgeous and amazing and awesome and hip and cool, and I always want to hang around with the cool and brilliant; I’ve always imagined that if I could just win their acceptance, some of their brilliance and beauty and awesomeness and hipness and coolness might “rub off” on me.
Spoiler alert: this time, it did.
There’s something very special (to me) about Maui On Stage at the Historic Iao Theater. I did my first Maui show, The Wizard of Oz, with them last fall, beginning to weave that network of like-minded friends that remains the most important (but far from the only important) reason I do theatre. I feel at home in the Iao—which is not to say I don’t also feel at home with MAPA (the Maui Academy of Performing Arts), with which I did my second show on Maui, Man of La Mancha, in which I made more dear friends, but firsts are always special—there’s something about the Iao that suits me like a well-worn pair of slippahs.
And the amazing cast and crew of Rent more than accepted me. They embraced me, they loved me, they forgave me my awkwardness, they made me theirs. Love is the fabric and substance of our Rent ʻohana, and I am woven into that fabric not because of who or what I am so much as because who and how we are. We are lovers, and that’s what lovers do; they love each other.
When you don’t love yourself, though (or don’t think you do), it can be hard to accept the gift of love when others give it. That was me; I wanted the love I was being offered, but I was afraid...a formless fear that encouraged me to keep up my defenses. This tension ate at me, hope sustained only because my desire to love and be loved was (barely ) stronger than that fear.
Love changed me. Love changes everything.
Over the course of the rehearsal and run we became so very close. I trusted more and more and relaxed more and more and (oh, so gradually) came to accept the gift of love my cast mates offered, to offer my own love to my cast mates, and (finally!) to begin to believe that I was not an interloper, but rather a rightful member of this family I love.
For me, that’s a big deal, but it’s not unfamiliar territory; I’ve been here before. It’s a good thing—in fact, it’s a great thing—but it wouldn’t be growth if I went no further.
It seems I was close to a breakthrough; that breakthrough came just two days after Rent closed, and the trigger was courtesy of one of my Rent ʻohana.
I got a text Tuesday morning: “‘The Vortex’ by Esther and Jerry Hicks. I just started reading it on the plane to Boston, and it’s kinda blowing my mind. Thought of you instantly. xoxo”
On the strength of that recommendation and still marinating in the rich broth of our own Rent “Summer of Love,” I began to read. What I read resonated with the love and compassion I’d come to expect this summer and with all the hard work I and others had done before, and suddenly, in the course of one day, I was transformed. I see things differently. I see myself differently.
All at once, my focus has shifted from that which I always bemoaned as missing to all that I have. All at once, I’ve gone from self-loathing to self-loving. All at once I believe what I once only “knew”—that I’m attractive, that I’m worthy, that I’m smart. All at once I believe that what I choose to focus on affects what I encounter in life. I am not a victim; I am the author of my fate. I spent my whole life up to this point focusing on what I lack, but from this point forward I focus on what is coming to me.
Notice I said “what is coming to me,” not “what the future might hold.” I am confident that the universe and I are working together to make my dreams come true; to manifest them in my life. This I both know and believe.
I don’t claim to know exactly what form that manifestation will take, and I don’t care. No matter what, it will be perfect. It is the product of my focus—what The Vortex calls “Vibrations”—and the natural response of the universe to that focus, and I focus on good and worthy desires and aspirations that will—that must—come to pass.
In just one day I changed—I am a new creature—and when I changed so did my world. And this, which has been my hope for so long, is now real.
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