From the time we are young, we all exhibit certain proclivities that indicate who we're becoming. Sometimes it takes a long while till we fully live into and embrace those gifts, and truly understand that they're given to us for a purpose.
Early on, I was drawn to two things: my mother's piano, and my father's typewriter. Both had keys in common, as well as required finger dexterity. What I didn't comprehend then, as I plunked and pecked, was how important a tool each would become in expressing what I was observing and feeling.
In mid-life, I had a dream so mystifying and compelling that I immediately got out of bed to write it down: I was standing in front of a mirror outlined in round lights, and handed twin babies by arms that seemed to come from my peripheral vision, attached to no one. I knew only one thing: my job was to feed both babies.
A spiritual director told me that dreaming of babies often has to do with creativity and asked me if I had a hunch what each one represented. I was surprised at her question, because I absolutely did. I knew one was Music, and I knew the other one was Writing. Another mentor listened to my dream and pointed out that I'd been standing in front of a theatre mirror. Her words sent a shiver through me, because I was just about to tell her I was looking into applying to NYU's Musical Theatre Writing Program.
We all think we're supposed to be good at at least one thing. We try to figure out what that thing is, like the amusing story of the beauty contestant who frantically told her friends that she needed to "find a talent."
But we don't find our talents. They find us. Our lives whisper to us what we're about, and if we let them speak, we don't have to worry about who we're becoming—we're already there. All we need is to understand and nurture those gifts.
My dream helped me to embrace a twin calling, occasionally in the context of theatre, and to lean into one or the other in certain seasons, and to let each one shine in their due time.
As you wander around this site, perhaps you'll find something to walk away with—some music, some words, some inspiration, some love.
I offer the loaves and fishes in my basket. The rest is up to divine multiplication. —AB