Messy (+ 100 rainbow cupcakes).
Tomorrow night will be my final Symphony Hall performance as principal flutist of the Boston Symphony Orchestra.* In a matter of months my time will be devoted exclusively to my work as a professional leadership coach.
SOME CONTEXT
Unlike many major life transitions which occur in private — or at least somewhat quietly — big pieces of my transition are happening in the public eye.
Quite literally in front of an audience.
Different from some fields where job transitions are common, even routine, my choice to step away from the position I hold in the classical music world — at my age and at the peak of my abilities — is rare. And for this particular position, there’s no changing my mind, no walking back into this job or a similar one.
I’m exiting through a one-way door.
LOSING MY MIND A BIT
When contemplating what to share with you about this milestone, I lost my mind a little bit.
I forgot everything I know about the human experience.
I forgot the title of this email mini-series. (The “Both/And” part.)
I imagined I was going to share with you something Tidy. Definitive. Maybe even Inspiring.
Here’s the problem: I’m a person, not a Disney movie.
So you’re getting the human version.
What follows is a messy, incomplete list of some of the contradictions, questions and complexities that are present for me right now.
If you’re not into messy lists, I hear you.
And — if you’ve ever been through a major transition, transformation, identity shift, or reckoning … perhaps something on my list will be for you?
THE MESSY PART
All The Beauty and The Bloodshed**
BEAUTY: I am uplifted and inspired daily — by the privilege of making music in a world class orchestra and by the transformational work I do with my coaching clients. There is profound beauty in both. My choice to move into coaching full-time isn't motivated by a desire to leave music behind, but rather by a powerful pull towards a new calling — a desire to have a different kind of impact.
AND.
BLOODSHED: A major (and overdue) reckoning around power and gender is happening right now in the symphony orchestra world. (Read more here. Find excellent analysis here.) My own transition and evolution by necessity lives in the larger context of what’s occurring in the industry.
Watching this unfold, I see plenty of folks whose first instinct is to protect the status quo and everything they cherish about the art form. Others want to burn it all down and start over with updated, wiser values and priorities.
I’ve had both kinds of thoughts.
Sometimes things have to break before they can be rebuilt — and destruction can be a necessary part of transformation. The questions I grapple with are these:
How much has to break, and what?
What does this look like on a personal level? On a structural level?
What parts of our identity do we work to protect and sustain, and where do we want to use transition and upheaval to wipe the slate clean and build something new?
WOUNDS: Old wounds of mine have been reopened by this transition — and this offers an opportunity for a deeper level of healing. I can still get very angry about experiences I’ve endured in my professional life, and even angrier when I witness others going through similar and worse.
Can I transform that anger from something that feels constricting into something generative and expansive? I believe so, and this is one of my projects. (Getting support and working with my own coach on this has been important.)
ENOUGH: Sometimes I wonder if I’ve “done enough” — and then I remember that there is no answer to this. We each have to decide for ourselves. Sometimes I wonder if I fully used my privilege and my platform to make this field better. I have real pride in how I helped shape the industry. I absolutely wish I could have done (much) more. And I am making an uneasy peace with what I was able to do. (This is also a work in progress.)
Gotta know when to hold ‘em, etc etc (But am I truly “folding ‘em”?)
There’s no question that I’m going out at the top of my game. I'm committed to completing this chapter of my professional life with excellence. This feels really good and it’s also confusing. My flute playing is more comfortable and secure than it's ever been. Is that due to my accumulated years of experience, or is it because I know I am soon to be released from the constant pressure and scrutiny?
Am I throwing in the towel, “folding” my hand of cards? Not from my vantage point. On the other hand, I am choosing to walk away from a certain kind of pressure — and this feels welcome.
What will it be like to create new ways to get inspired, to explore new versions of striving for excellence? Is there a “top” in this new field I’m entering? And is that something I’m even interested in defining or chasing? True excellence,YES a thousand percent. The “top”? That's an open question.
Shoes
What do we have to say goodbye to in order to welcome in the new?
I recently gave several of my best pairs of concert shoes to a new member of the orchestra. She’ll make them her own and will wear them with style. A few heavily worn workhorse pairs are destined for Goodwill. And one special pair stays with me — my very first pair of “nice” concert black shoes, a splurge on my shoestring college student budget, purchased nearly 30 years ago.
I’m SO ready to shed (and possibly shred) my concert clothes. Along with that well-worn “concert black,” I am also giving up comfortable stability and safety (and gaining greater potential for impact).
What other comforts need to be shed? What gets passed to the next generation for them to build upon? And what, like that one special pair of shoes, is an important symbol of where I’ve come from and rightfully remains with me?
Me, Myself, and I
It’s not all about ME. Much bigger things are happening in the world. People go through much bigger transitions. This is all true. And yet this feels big to me, right now, in the context of my life.
I know that my artistic career doesn’t define me — AND many choices I’ve made in service of that career have shaped me.
I am not my job. AND my job made me into who I am.
I’m the beneficiary of plenty of privilege — AND I’ve worked exceptionally hard, made major sacrifices (especially on a very personal level), and can and should fully own my accomplishments.
Gratitude meets Barbie
I’m filled with gratitude for the people, institutions, privilege, good health, and just plain old fashioned luck that have benefited me. I’m deeply appreciative.
AND I’m tired of the expectation placed on women that we “always be grateful.” (See the iconic monologue from the recent Barbie movie. If you haven’t watched it, take three minutes and do it now.)
Who I am — as an artist, a coach, and a human — is a product of so many outside influences (even the acoustics at Symphony Hall.) AND I have my own voice and am leaving my own mark. I am humbled AND proud. I owe much to others AND I did a whole heck of a lot myself.
So yes, I’m grateful. And I also acknowledge myself.
Both / And
The goal isn’t to reconcile these contradictions, it’s about making room for them all. I expect that I'll continue to experience moments of inner turmoil while at the same time remaining fully at peace with my decision. It's messy!
Rainbow Cupcakes
100 rainbow colored cupcakes will arrive at Symphony Hall later today, to share with my colleagues — my way of thanking them and commemorating these final performances. Cupcakes make me smile, and rainbow cupcakes even more so.
My intention is to savor their sweetness as well as the sadness of saying goodbye, right alongside my excitement at what's next.
PS — 8 weeks of summer performances still remain for me at Tanglewood, the orchestra's summer home.
PPS — “All the Beauty and the Bloodshed” is a fantastic Academy Award-nominated documentary about artist and activist Nan Goldin.
And, finally, a pic of those shoes I'm holding onto:
