I love musicals – when life gets you down, what could be better than singing and dancing your way out of a challenge? And while many musicals might seem silly and frivolous, I have found deep meaning in several Broadway showtunes. I hope to make this a recurring series because I had a difficult time narrowing down “Broadway life lessons” to just three songs. I like the common theme in these lyrics though. Three totally different musicals, written in different decades, but all with the resounding themes of carving your own path, trusting yourself and your process, and stepping onto the stage of your life.
Hades Town – Wait for Me, Reprise
I’ll tell you where the real road lies
Between your ears, behind your eyes
That is the path to Paradise
Likewise, the road to ruin
Usually, I listen to the cast album before seeing a show, but for whatever reason, I went into Hades Town ignorant. I was blown away by the entire show and it was hard to keep track of all the amazing and powerful lyrics. In the end, the song that I’ve played on repeat for days is Wait for Me, Reprise. Hermes, the narrator and sage voice of the show, is explaining to Orpheus and Eurydice the challenges they will encounter on their way out of the underworld, and just like in real life, many of their challenges are in their mind – the path to paradise or the road to ruin.
The more I get to know myself, and the more I work with clients, I’m constantly amazed as to how difficult we find it to trust ourselves. In coaching, we say that our clients are “naturally creative, resourceful, and whole” – people don’t need to be fixed or solved, they have the answers they need, and a coach can help them uncover them. But a lot of the uncovering is digging down past the mountains of distrust in ourselves. Why do we think others know better? Why do we doubt our abilities? These are bigger questions with bigger answers than I leave for Broadway, but I think it can be summed up how we view the road “between our ears, behind our eyes.”
That “road to ruin” can be so loud and chaotic, while the “path to Paradise” is quiet and unassuming. How do we trust our path and hold true to that path amongst the chaos? If I hold you “naturally creative, resourceful, and whole” then the same must be true of myself. I, Beth-Charlotte Kovacs, am naturally creative, resourceful, and whole. I hold the answers to my journey, and I hold the power to make that journey happen.
Chorus Line – What I Did for Love
Point me toward tomorrow
We did what we had to do
Won’t forget, can’t regret
What I did for love what I did for love
The first time I saw Chorus Line, I was dealing with a dance injury and the future of my “ballet career” was up in the air. This song brought me to ugly tears in the middle of the theater. As I’ve gotten older, the love in this song has changed from dance to my husband, my son, and even myself. What I love about these lyrics is the letting go of regret. If I can honestly say that I did something from a place of love, then there should be no regret.
When you think of love, how do you define it? Is it a feeling or a doing or both? When you think of who you love, is it everyone? Is it those closest to you? Do you love some folks but not like them? What do you do when love isn’t returned, do you take your love away, do you shut down? Who is worthy of love? Are those who you disagree with worthy of love? Are you worthy of love? If you are worthy of love, and you are worthy of love, what do you do for that love? How do you let yourself know you are loved? What have you done for yourself that you don’t regret, because you did from a place of love?
When you think of those around you that you love, the lines can become blurry – if I do X because I love them, it feels like I’m not loving myself. For example, if I clean an elderly parent’s home every Saturday morning, the one time I could have to myself, I’m showing love to the parent, but not to myself. Love is a balance game – or, as another song says, love is a battlefield. What does it look like to unselfishly put the love of yourself over your love of others? I’m not suggesting we all go around self-serving all the time, but what’s possible for ourselves and those that we love when we put our own oxygen mask on first, knowing that we are worthy of love from others and ourselves, and we won’t regret what we do for that love?
Wicked – Defying Gravity
It’s time to try defying gravity
I think I’ll try defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye, I’m defying gravity
And you won’t bring me down
Is there Broadway without Wicked – no, there is not. There are few Broadway bangers like Defying Gravity and the fact that it’s not just an amazing piece of music and stage crafting, but also a powerful song about trusting yourself makes it all that much more amazing.
I love the last line, “and you won’t bring me down.” Who is Elphaba singing about – Galinda, the Wizard, Society…or herself? It could be a combination of all of these and more. Who brings you down? Or should it be, who do you allow to bring you down?
Is it a parent? Even as adults, we still hold onto what our parents said to us when we were young and what they say to us now. What relationship do you want to have with your parents? What season are you in with your parents? Are you moving into the parent role as your parents age? Is forgiveness needed for things said in the past? What conversations do you need to have with your parents so that you don’t allow them to bring you down?
Is it a manager? Work relationships are so tricky. You are literally paid to be in a functional relationship with other people with whom you might not see eye-to-eye or might have difficulty communicating with. Are there others around you that you can speak with to better understand the manager’s communication style? Who builds you up if your manager is tearing you down? How important is this relationship in your career trajectory? How are you living out your values in a role that brings you down?
Is it you? We all have an inner critic – that voice in the back of your head telling you why you can’t do something or how you aren’t good enough. Often this voice stemmed from a place of self-preservation and protection from years ago. What does this voice sound like (a teacher, a parent, a bully)? What is the wisdom in this voice? How has this voice potentially served you in the past and how is it now holding you back? How can you quiet the voice, tell it thank you for its service and move away from it now?
Where do you find wisdom like that found in these lyrics? Is it in books, poetry, pop music, conversations with friends? What fills you up and moves your spirit like these songs do for me? Thank you, Broadway, for reminding me to trust myself, embrace my journeys, and step confidently onto the stage of my own lives, and doing it all, with a little razzle dazzle!
