Sovereign Souls

I see a number of internet memes that, while well-intentioned, just rub me the wrong way. The underlying sentiment is often a sympathetic one, but the phrasing has an unfortunate tendency to objectify people by talking about them solely in terms of what they do for (or to) others. A case in point:

“Some people come into your life just to teach you how to let go.”

There’s significant good in this meme—it encourages those hurting from rejection or loss to find some good in their circumstances—but at the same time it reduces “Some people” to mere objects, defined solely by the affect they have on “you.”

Each of us is a sovereign soul, charting a course by design or intuition or accident—or some combination thereof—to our own heart’s-home. Each of us (including the ones who reject, abandon, hurt, or hate us) has myriad intentions and purposes, hopes and desires apart from the rest of us.

As each sovereign soul pursues its own self-determined “destiny,” it encounters others and acts according to those unique intentions, purposes, hopes, and desires. Sometimes one sovereign soul’s course is compatible with another’s; other times, they conflict. Whatever happens, each sovereign soul carries gifts for those they encounter in the form of lessons.

Lessons are not always easy. Sometimes they’re painful and usually they’re hard and often they’re unwelcome, but they can be precious gifts. That’s not to say that everything anyone does (no matter how awful) is justified—cruelty in its many forms cannot be excused just because it may teach a lesson—rather, it’s to say that sometimes, maybe even often, our suffering can be in some way redeemed if we find the lesson.

The point, though, is that people never come into our lives just for us. They are sovereign souls, just as we are, and probably just as lost as we are ourselves. We stumble into one another and sometimes all we can take away from a painful encounter—the only thing that makes the pain tolerable—is the lesson.

Why I'm Not Taking the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge

Let me preface this by saying that people should do what they want—if they want to do the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge and/or they feel it’s an effective way of raising awareness of a terrible disease, they should follow their hearts. Good deeds are good deeds.

I’ve been issued the Ice Bucket Challenge. I will not be participating in the Ice Bucket Challenge, not because I believe there’s something wrong with it, but because of my values, my beliefs, my relationship with charity, my “issues.” There will be some who accuse me of being a spoilsport (or maybe an elitist), and while what others think of me is none of my business, perhaps one or two are interested in why I won’t play along. This is my answer.

One powerful influence on my values with respect to charity is Matthew 6:3-4:

But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
New Revised Standard Version

I’m not suggesting that the Ice Bucket Challenge is irreligious. I’m not quoting scripture as some universal authority that must bind and compel anyone, believer or no. I’m not suggesting anything about anyone except me —from a very young age, I have felt that my charitable giving was a private thing, nobody’s business but mine, nothing to boast about or even let others know about, lest feeding my ego become my motive for giving.

The ALS Ice Bucket Challenge has raised awareness—and a lot of much-needed money—for a worthy cause. Yay! That’s awesome! I decline to participate not because ALS doesn’t deserve the—attention—it does—nor because it doesn’t need or deserve the support—of course it does. I decline to participate because I’d rather just give without fanfare or fuss, because I want the attention on the cause and not on me, because I’d die of hypothermia if I did an Ice Bucket challenge for every worthy cause—causes dear to my heart include but are not limited to:

• the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation
• the American Heart Association
• the American Cancer Society
• the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society
• the Alzheimer’s Association
• the American Diabetes Association
• the ALS Association
• the AIDS Foundation
• numerous conservation organizations
• numerous arts organizations
• numerous youth service groups

I do what I can. What I do, and for which organizations, is personal. Given how much of my life I live publicly (this blog is an example), it may seem inconsistent that I choose to keep this private, but there it is. It is consistent with my values, and that is going to have to be good enough.

Aloha!

Nothing Wrong With Me

As I settle into the excitement of another school year, I reflect on a summer very different than I anticipated (and in some ways uncomfortable) and realize that it was…good.

For a number of reasons, theatre is my primary social outlet—the structure of a production provides a framework within which I know my place, and the collaborative nature of theatre makes relating with one another expected—and when I’m not in a production I find myself slipping into a more solitary (and lonely) pattern. While perhaps it is my nature to be solitary, it is not my desire, which is among the reasons theatre is so important to me—theatre is my ‘ohana and I love it and those who inhabit it intemperately.

For four months now (and counting), by my own choice I’ve been apart from that context, and for much of that time I’ve been somewhat idle, too—while for teachers summer isn’t the idyllic repose others imagine it to be, it is outside the classroom and sans students—leaving me to my own devices and solitary vices.

And it’s been lonely.

Of course I could have invited myself into the lives of my fantastic friends and I would have been welcome, but outside the production context, I just don’t. Everyone has work, everyone has rehearsal…it feels like an imposition, even if intellectually I know better. So I just don’t.

I had the opportunity to be in a show this summer, and I chose not to be. I knew the price of that decision when I made it, and while the price was high, I feel good about that decision and more importantly, I feel good about my reasons for doing what I did. While I confess the importance of theatre to me as a social outlet, I am a theatre artist, and the artistic aspects of theatre outweigh even the substantial heft of the social element. I made a hard choice for a good reason, when it would have been easy to compromise to avoid solitude.

What made it good—good despite the loneliness and idleness, good despite missing my theatre family—is that I actually felt I was in good company. I found myself contemplating the growth I’ve experienced in the last year, and calling it “good.” I spent a lot of time with and on me, and it felt fine. I didn’t like being lonely, but for the first time ever it didn’t make me feel insignificant or unimportant or unvalued. It gave me time to process all that’s changed since RENT closed, to find places in me to celebrate and cherish all I’ve become.

With school back in session, I have a focal point in my students and my teaching practice, which eases the loneliness. And while nothing is promised, I hope to be back in rehearsal soon. I look forward to being back in my element. In the meantime, I’ve gained another measure of peace and contentment, knowing that whatever my circumstances, I’m okay and more than okay.
There’s nothing wrong with me.