With the advent of daffodils, tulips and longer days, spring is finally here. Walking around the Hill, I'm taking time to notice the earth waking up from its long winter's nap and coming alive. The blooming trees and flowers are a reminder that despite the tragic killings in our neighborhood several weeks ago, an ongoing bloody war across the globe and a president out of touch with his country, seeds of inspiration and hope lie everywhere. Beauty still surrounds us.
My own euphoria and sense of possibility emerged from a playreading I attended last week at ACT Theatre, where I work. Rehearsals began for "Miss Witherspoon." The staff, cast and crew gathered for an initial "meet and greet" followed by a complete read through of Christopher Durang's new comic fable about a middle-aged dead woman named Veronica who is continually reincarnated against her will, despite hopes for an easier existence.
After returning to earth as a too-smart-for-her-own-good infant, a pill-popping teenager and a sprightly golden retriever, she discovers with the help of a kooky Hindu spirit guide how all actions cause reactions often with lasting personal and global consequences. We can't hide from conflict or bury our heads in the sand, if we want to progress and move society forward. The spirit guide's advice: pick one thing, work at improving it, and don't be afraid to ask for help.
When the reading was finished, I left the rehearsal room and stepped outside into a crisp, spring day. The play with its madcap situations not only entertained me; Veronica's experiences also reminded me of my own quest to find meaning in my life. A year ago this week I began work at ACT Theatre after nearly a decade working in the health care industry.
After my father's death in 2000 I reevaluated my life and decided I wanted to start out fresh in an entirely new field. Despite feeling quite uncertain about my next steps, I began an oddyssey to figure out how to do it and ultimately where I belonged.
Valuable assistance
One fall morning I visited Seattle Central Community College (SCCC), sought out the Career Services Department and, convinced my first step should be retaking the Strong Campbell Interest Inventory, asked for help.
That's when I met Christine, the career specialist at SCCC, who with her guidance and support changed my life. Christine suggested I take an alternative test similar to the Strong Campbell, and once I completed it, we reviewed the results together. It reaffirmed my strong interest in arts and culture, writing and social organizing. She encouraged me to explore special event management, but I felt a stronger draw toward work supporting the performing arts, thanks to happy memories from my involvement with a children's theater as a young boy. Christine suggested I approach people employed in the field so I began arranging informational interviews at various arts organizations around town. I met with over 40 people who often suggested three or four others I might want to contact.
After six months, I interviewed for a job with an arts organization I'd cultivated, but didn't get a final offer. I returned to Christine sullen and disappointed, taking the rejection personally. Other rejections would follow, and she'd remind me the job wasn't well-suited for me, or the work environment was unhealthy, or perhaps I'd dodged a bullet when I heard the manager had a nasty temper. The right job eventually would materialize and find me, she said.
My career search began at a time when the high-flying Seattle economy had begun to lose its luster. By December 2000 the dot-com boom began to bust. Then nine months later September 11 dealt a more crushing blow, epecially for arts organizations dependent on stock market investments from patrons and foundations.
I decided to enroll in a nine-month arts management certificate program while still searching for the right job. During the course of my studies, I lost my other parent. While I never lost confidence in my commitment to finish the program, I continued to suffer rejection in my job search. Christine repeated her encouragement. Don't give up. Take a break. Go for a bike ride.
New job, new start
The week I finished my certificate program and accepted a half-time position with Seattle Children's Theatre, Christine took me out to lunch to celebrate. A year later in 2003 when SCT laid me off after the invasion of Iraq and a resulting decline in contributions, she commiserated with me. During this period I contemplated forfeiting my dream to find full-time employment in the arts. I wanted to throw in the towel and give up because the familiar territory of my previous career felt more comfortable, and less risky in troubled times.
Like Veronica in "Miss Witherspoon" protesting her multiple reincarnations, preferring the safety and comfort of a non-denominational limbo rather than the uncertainty of post 9/11 America, throwing the covers over my head seemed an easier solution. But over the course of four years my fortuitous relationship with Christine offered me a steady friend and mentor. Aimless and with uncertainty I reached out to her at the cross hairs of a new millennium, when it seemed like the greatest threat we faced was the Y2K crisis.
After last week's playreading I sent an e-mail to let her know how much I enjoy working in the beautiful, historic building that houses ACT Theatre and its performance spaces. I wanted to again acknowlege her support in my reaching this next phase of my life, a very happy one, albeit not without its share of bumps.
In her response, she characterized my communicaton as timely. That same day she'd given notice to the community college about her plans to leave her full-time job and pursue her next dream: working in human resources management. In accepting a temporary position with an entertainment company, she is now taking her own advice that I followed with great success. When the position ends in mid-summer, there's no employment guarantee, but she's decided to follow her heart and trust the universe will deliver.
I responded with unequivocal support. I've learned when we pursue our heart's desire, we'll make our greatest contribution, the one the world is waiting for. Eventually we'll land on our feet, unless like Veronica in "Miss Witherspoon," reincarnation delivers a few well-placed kicks to our static lives.
Jack Hilovsky lives on Capitol Hill. His column appears in the second issue of each month. He can be reached at editor@capitolhilltimes.com.
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