It’s been a while since I’ve written. (Okay, let’s be truthful: It’s been more than “a while.” It’s been almost three months.) Partially because I’ve been busy running around NYC, pursuing my various jobs, and just trying to pay rent (see my upcoming post “Survival Mode (Or the New York Hustle)”). But truthfully, I think it’s also been out of fear. Since I last wrote, so many amazing things have come to pass in my life, and I’ve been afraid to talk about them. Not because it might feel like bragging, but because I was afraid that somehow, by sharing them, they might go away. That I might be called out for some reason or other as being false. That something would come along to ruin all of the good.

 

Mid-February, I was working two minimum-wage jobs, struggling to pay rent, and trying to figure out my next move in this crazy (but glorious!) city. Should I go back into stage management? Should I keep trying to audition? Should I keep sending my resume to yoga studios and gyms? What happened to my semi-clear sense of purpose that I had moved to this city with?

 

I’d already (mostly) determined that throwing myself into random auditions just wasn’t for me. The image of Kaetlyn the working actor was a part of an old ego that I’d never let go of. An ego—and its pursuant emotions, grudges, and excuses, but more to come on that in another post—that had stuck with me for over a decade, and needed to be blessed and released. It doesn’t mean I’ll never perform again. Just that I don’t need to tie myself to fruitlessly auditioning. The Universe has brought me all this way already. I trust that if/when the time is right for me to return to the stage, I’ll be able to hear its call.

 

As to stage managing: I had started to realize in the months since leaving my old job that I’m more of a stage manager than I ever knew. Before I’d never really claimed the title “stage manager.” I’d felt like a bit of a fraud. I’d only really stage managed for one company—with some dabblings at the two local theatre schools. I’d never trained as a stage manager. I’d never even wanted to be a stage manager. And yet, I’d ended up one and worked consistently in the field of stage management for almost six years. The only thing that kept me from being a “stage manager” was the fact that I didn’t claim the title. But the longer I’ve spent away from it, the more I’ve realized how natural a manager I am. How much a part of my personality management is. And, honestly, that I was a pretty frickin’ good stage manager. So did that mean I should still pursue it? I’d come to NYC to get away from it.

 

As to sending my resume to yoga studios and gyms, I had gotten no traction. Nobody would bite and be willing to audition me to teach. Everyone, it seems, wants teachers with years of experience teaching yoga. How could I convince them to give me a shot? That my years of experience teaching other things and my decade-plus of experience doing yoga really do make me qualified? (That, I still don’t have an answer to, except to say that I firmly believe that when the time is right, someone will be willing to take the chance on me.)

 

So that’s where I sat in February: in a whirlwind of confusion, trying to figure just WTF I was doing with my life.

 

Then, my first opportunity came along. A good friend gave my name to a director he knew that was looking for a stage manager. It seemed like a golden opportunity: the chance to stage manage the Off-Broadway premier of a show! It was certainly something that stoked my ego, even as I wondered if getting back into stage management was the right thing to do. Fortunately, the Universe knew better and guided me to the right answer. In the same email that essentially offered me the gig as stage manager, it also came out that the show was a non-union production. As a union stage manager, I couldn’t participate unless I wanted to do the dishonest thing and “scab” for the production.

 

Satya—truth—is one of the yamas (or social restraints) that yoga teaches us. It’s something I strive to do and be. I knew I couldn’t live my satya if I were working under a false name, hiding from my union’s rules. So, I turned down my first chance to stage manage Off-Broadway. It was, admittedly, a little devastating. At least for a night. For a moment I’d felt so accomplished. I felt like I’d have something to write home and brag about. Something to validate my move to the city.

 

But leaps of faith don’t need validation. They just need trust and an open heart. So I took my night to grieve the loss of an opportunity that would never be, and I let myself move on. The Universe would have other plans for me. Other opportunities. And I was blessed with an incredible support system that night that reminded me of just that. That if one offer had come so soon after my moving to the city, others would certainly follow.

 

The very next day, I had an interview with an ashram whose work-study program I had applied to for the summer. At the end of the interview, I was offered a spot in their July work-study program. It was such an incredible thing to have happen so soon after turning a different opportunity down. It felt like the Universe’s way of telling me that I did the right thing, and that yoga is the path I’m supposed to be on right now. But, for as excited as I was to accept the offer to go to the ashram, I only told a few people. It took me a whole month to approach one of my bosses about it. (What if he told me I couldn’t get the time off?) It took me even longer to tell some of the people who matter most to me, like my mother, for fear that I would tell them and then something would end up happening that would make me not able to go. The whole thing felt “too good to be true.” *

 

That was the first of my incredible news that I was scared to talk about. The second came just a week later: I got an offer to work the front desk at a yoga studio. Immediately the studio felt like home. It was (and is!) amazing to get to spend 30+ hours a week in the presence of other yogis. When I would tell people I was working at a studio, they’d automatically ask if I was teaching, then seem less enthused when I said I was only working the front desk, but to me, it was just as great a gift. No, I’m not teaching. But if I were teaching, I’d only be spending a few hours a week in a studio environment, and this way, I get to be there nearly full-time!

 

My job at the studio quickly morphed into more of a leadership role. I began opening the studio more than half the week (now 5 days a week) and was trusted to work shifts alone. Soon the studio owners put me in a management role. And that’s when I got afraid to talk about it or put it on social media—even to share it here on my blog. I told myself it was because I didn’t officially know what my job title was, so I didn’t want to be false. But the truth behind that statement was that I was afraid someone would say that I wasn’t a manager at the studio, that somehow my happiness would be negated. I was waiting for things to go wrong with it, instead of being grateful and trusting that things would go right.

 

In both cases, I’ve been given amazing opportunities, and, in both cases, I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for something bad to happen instead. Thinking that something bad might happen kept me from trusting all the good that was happening! It caused me to keep secret about the things that were bringing me the most joy. I turned down stage managing that show because I wanted to live in truth. Yet, when wonderful things happened to me, I kept quiet about my truth, for fear that it was too good to be true.

 

But, goodness is the truth.

 

From now on, when good things happen to me, I’m going to strive to trust them and embrace them. Because there’s so much more joy to be had in living in the truth and goodness of them, than in worrying when the other shoe will drop.

 

*For various reasons, including finances and a growing sense that I just needed to remain in NYC that summer, I never did end up going to the ashram. I don’t regret my decision. Staying led to me being offered a chance to teach and meeting a man who made me believe in love at first sight and realize that there's nowhere in the world more amazing to fall in love than New York City (and also nowhere more lonely to get your heart broken--but that's another story). But, experiencing ashram life is still on my bucket list.