My friend, Doug Carfrae, dropped me off at my car after a morning of musical theatre for elementary schools in LA. Melissa and I were strongly considering moving to North Carolina.

I told Doug about my conundrum:

move to my home state of North Carolina where I felt my heart surprisingly pulled

or

get back to the NYC area (read: North Jersey) so I could get in the audition room again.

When I floated the prospect of moving to Greensboro, Melissa immediately began taking pictures off the walls of our cozy Highland Park house.

(And, she was open to returning to the state of her undergraduate education featuring plentiful Wawas and jug handle left turns if that’s what I really wanted. I’m blessed.)

When I told Doug how I was thinking about the decision – move to NC where my heart and instinct was pulling me, or jump back into the NYC maelstrom, I admitted that NYC called because I wanted to prove things, grab back time I felt I’d missed, go book a Broadway show.

With kindness in his voice, he said, “Yeah, usually the choices we make driven by our ego don’t work out the way we want them to.”

I felt like I’d been a tether ball, and someone had just cut the rope. There was lightness, freedom and permission.

And there was also a feeling like a water balloon burst inside. It was relief and a sadness. I was releasing a story, and that often brings tears.

Moving to Greensboro, NC, seemed at once a call in my heart and a no thank you to the New Jersey Transit commute for rounds of audition neurosis roulette.

Funny enough, I ended up getting to do all kinds of satisfying work in North Carolina. Some years, I racked up more Equity weeks than I did in LA.

It was also after we chose to move to NC that an unexpected door opened at Elon University, and I was able to walk beside growing singers during some very crucial years.

And still, I’ve noticed I continue to own an ego.

After the show a couple of weekends ago in NYC, I couldn’t have been more satisfied with the experience: the love in the room, the collaboration with Scott Nicholas, sharing music and heart, seeing that the program worked – so many terrific outcomes.

AND in the ensuing week, the ego committee offered many unsolicited observational nuggets:

Look at that guy on Playbill.com who won the NATS competition when you were in college. Now he’s working with that iconic director and that renowned composer, rehearsing every day with those well known and respected actors. You should be in rooms like that.

Look at that person’s show — They had more people show up for them than you did. I guess that list of folks you thought were gonna come didn’t care enough to turn up after all.

Ooooh, go check your socials and see of anybody else liked that video you posted. No? Check again!

I didn’t think these were the things that would be chattering through my noggin at age 45.

Last night in bed I lay with headachey eyes closed and unloaded these mental offerings to Melissa who, despite our collective exhaustion, listened with understanding and compassion. I’m blessed.

She reminded me that wanting ego-y things was normal human stuff, and also asked me – is that thing you’re jealous about what you really want now?

Lemme check. Oof. No.

So weird. No? No.

I don’t want it, and I want the recognition that comes from having or doing that thing. From whom? Not sure. The ego likes to keep things nebulous like that. 

I get off the commuter rail in the morning at Back Bay Station and feel so excited to get to the building where pianists bang away, violins and flutes repeat scales, opera students think more is more, and some nascent/questionable belting pierces the aural texture.

I pass BoCo kids with their scarves saying things like, “BoCo shoud DEFINITELY do Light in the Piazza before I graduate,” (I know, we’re so annoying.) and Berklee kidz with their large headphones over green hair toting guitars and smoking.

And I think – how much has to be going right for us to get to cross Mass Avenue like a bunch of furrow-browed musical ants on our way to classes, midterms, and musical frustration?

All this to say to you – many things will always be true at the same time.

You’ll land in a place of great gratitude and contentment, and your brain will still cook up all kinds of ideas for new things to explore.

Or you could be like our 4-year-old, Jude, who could be in a living room filled with too many toys, see the one strand of red yarn his brother has, and decide that’s the one ring to rule them all.

(Mind you, I had a full out argument with him this morning over the 3 remaining tablespoons of milk left in the jug that he wanted to waste on his to-be-discarded soggy Rice Krispies. We went halvesies.)

I don’t know why our brains work that way – why we think what’s meant for someone else should be ours. It’s kooky.

But if we can watch those thoughts with love and compassion, they have a much better chance of moving through. And maybe even pointing us to the things that’ll bring satisfaction to us and the ones we share with.

One example of this — some of my ego roiling led me to recognize I want to sing more. So, I got to thinking about how I can do that.

And on the flip side of that, my ego also wants to hide.

It wants me to hibernate in an artistic cave where some great producer-director-empresario will enter with a gas lantern and say, “Dan? Dan Callaway? Is that yoooou? Where have you beeeeen? Come, take my hand. The world of theatre singing and art song eagerly awaits your entry to the stage!”

Might explain some of those recurring dreams I have when I’m in a show I haven’t rehearsed, can’t find my costumes, and wake up before I actually find the stage entrance.

All this to say — as you drive your life motorcycle ahead, you’re always going to have your buddy the ego in the side car.

And I’ve found that when I can witness this creature with kindness and understanding, I get clear guidance on what can be next.

Now I’m going to email a few places where I’d like to sing and teach. I’ll let you know how that goes.

What’s something you can do that’ll help you make a step toward satisfying? 

Because it really is true — there is only one you. And folks need to hear the story only you can sing. 

Love much,

Dan

PS If you’d like to hear some songs from the NYC show, I put a YouTube playlist together so you can listen to the ones you want. 

PPS I’m brainstorming some weekend workshops to put together for you. Like How to Craft, Plan, and Perform Your Own One-Person-Show or Cabaret or Get Your Audition Book Sorted in a Weekend. 

What’s a concrete thing you could use help with? Tell me, and maybe I can make you a workshop.