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Second Acts that Change Lives

Making a Difference in the World

by Mary Beth Sammons (more about this book and author)


Chapter 8: Put Your Passions Out There

New beginnings are subtle and take much patience and persistence.

I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.

— Gilda Radner

New beginnings sometimes are subtle and take patience and persistence. There will always be reasons not to make the next move; sound reasons that everyone else  —  your spouse, your kids, your mother, and your local barista  —  will be happy to point out to you, if they haven’t already occurred to you

Sometimes, you just have to smile, ignore them, and know that the power to transform your life is much closer

than anyone  —  especially you  —  realizes. It is inside you. Start small. Appreciate small gains. Make gentle progress and keep putting your dreams out there.

The individuals in this chapter present some surprising and profound lessons about following your own calling and not doing what others think you should be doing.

Back to the Future

He fled the bright lights to find his soul and a simpler lifestyle.

We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.

— T. S. Eliot

Jonathan Dokuchitz fled the limelight to pursue a simpler, quieter way of living. In moving ahead, he turned back to the future and a life he never imagined possible.

Jonathan Dokuchitz, 41, Gilbertsville, New York

Act I: Actor/singer in theater, film, and TV in New York City.

Act II: Business owner, Custom Electronics, Inc.

New Script

“To find a more peaceful balance of work/living/creativity after living as an employed actor in New York City for the past twenty-four years,” says Jonathan. “It came about out of an inability to silence the voice in my soul telling me that it was time to find some quiet place to exist.”

Life before the Leap

Jonathan had been acting since he was seventeen, in high school in Oneonta, New York. From the Cabaret Corps at the Williamstown Theatre Festival in the 1980s, to the La Jolla Playhouse in California, to Broadway theaters to the big screen, he created personas  —  Captain Walker in The Who’s Tommy (nominated for fifteen Tony Awards) to Danny in Sex in the City, to Two Weeks Notice, and the past three and a half years as Corny Collins in Hairspray.

A self-described “very shy kid,” Jonathan changed grade schools four times, and he spent his after-school and summer school vacations holed up in a car in the garage blasting tunes and singing along to his dad’s Beach Boys, Beatles, and Carpenters eight-tracks. Karen Carpenter taught him to sing. “In high school, I managed to build up enough courage to audition for one of the musicals,” he says. “When I finally made the cut, I realized that I was beyond comfortable on the stage. Standing in front of many was easier than to face a few.” His sister, Diane, his mentor, traveled from Boston to see his debut high school performance in Forum. She told

him early on, “Yes, I think you have it.” Throughout the years, she would become his biggest fan, risking snowstorms at a moment’s notice to see him as Jack in the Beanstalk, wearing a red wig and pulling a plaster cow on Broadway.

Even though Jonathan found himself on the professional stage in high school and was offered bigger and better roles, the then-teen assumed his destiny was to join his dad and older brothers in the electronics business his father founded forty-five years ago. Jonathan applied to a bunch of business schools. But Dad knew better, and he pushed his son to follow his passions and move to New York City to study acting.

There, Jonathan spent the next twenty-four years. The lure of the stage was intoxicating.

The Epiphany of Change

“But then the alarm clock rang,” he says. “It was like the slow process of becoming conscious again. It was a new morning to face; my practical side was winning out after a long hibernation.”

He discovered that he longed to reconnect with his family and simpler days. “I felt that I wanted something more. So mine is not so much a pursuit of fulfilling a lifelong dream, but that of finding a soft landing after the longest, most wonderful balloon ride.”

In October 2007, with his dad turning eighty, Jonathan was pulled to step in and help run the family business; it seemed to be “the perfect getaway.” “I realized after awhile

that, although my experience on the stage would not in any way be helpful in designing an electronic capacitor, my experience with people and being creative was an asset that could be applied to any business.”

But there was a lot of soul-searching to be done. “Was the need to help the family business just a convenient truth?” he remembers asking himself. “It seemed easier than baking cupcakes and selling real estate. It was an already established entity that wouldn’t require me going to culinary school or ‘actors in transition’ workshop.”

Standing on the Edge

There was no easy answer. “The day I sat in the president’s office (of the electronics firm) telling him, ‘Yes, I want to start working, basically full-time, starting October 1,’ I felt the blood draining to my feet and a sick feeling of signing a deal with a devil or borrowing money from a bookie, knowing deep down, it isn’t going to be pretty in the end.”

“What pushed me off the cliff was the realization that we are not imprisoned with our choices,” he states. “Unless we choose to be.”

“As soon as I realized I could walk away at any time and resume my life in theater, the stones of worry and insecurity fell off me,” he says. “I realized that if I just show up with a positive attitude, with no judgment about myself or the people around me, the steam engine would start to chug. And chug it did.”

The Liftoff

His partner, Michael, also an actor, didn’t speak to him for two weeks. Michael kept telling Jonathan, “You’re an actor! You know nothing about capacitors!” Almost true.

But, another dream tugging at Jonathan was to live in an early 1800s house like the one from his childhood. “I grew up in a house that was circa 1805, a house I loved.” The duo bought a 4,500-square-foot, 1857 Greek Revival house in a historic town of fewer than three hundred people and spent three years restoring it themselves, commuting back and forth to their apartment in the city.

“Talk about juxtapose,” says Jonathan. “We were both practically in tears when we walked through it. It was a rainy day, and still light poured in through the floor-to-ceiling original lead glass windows”

Recapturing Lost Dreams

“That house went away along with my parents divorce, and I was heartbroken as a kid to see it go,” he recalls. “I never dreamed that I might one day have a white elephant of my own to care for. Our rent-stabilized apartment in New York seemed like the good life, and then when we started to make some money and still couldn’t afford to buy an apartment, I wasn’t prepared to miss the boat.”

The View from the Other Side

Walking away from New York City and relanding has been scary. But, the house itself evoked this in Jonathan: “It’s the first time I’ve felt at home since I was nine. I feel like a r

ooted tree now, so it’s hard for me to want to get on the road again. I’ve got a home that I can fill with friends, art, music, animals, and good food.”

He’s adjusting to the 9-to-5 shirt and tie. “I grew up with the business. I painted fences as a kid and sometimes answered the phones on summer vacation. I was duly qualified,” says Jonathan. “I started slowly, very slowly. Getting up at 6 a.m.! I’ve slept till 11 a.m. for the past twenty-five years! Thank God for our dog, Bucky. His enthusiasm at that early hour, running through the woods, made me believe I could get used to this new life as well.

“The most rewarding thing for me is that, after feeling like an adolescent for all these years, I feel that I’ve made a firm commitment to myself as an adult,” says Jonathan. “Not that I want to retire and play bridge, but the fact that I feel more responsible for myself and those around me after a life of not knowing where my next job was coming from is an empowering feeling.”

These days, he still sometimes ventures into the city  — and hops onto the stage. One gig he won’t give up is singing at the jazz club Birdland, where he reunites with former friends from his Cabaret Corps days, when he used to sing with close friend Dana Reeve.

The occasional revisits help him stay focused on his new path and remember the journey and special moments of his first act. One of the most special was his close friendship with Dana.

“Dana’s laugh and smile were magical,” remembers Jonathan. “Hearing Dana’s belly laugh was a treat to the

senses. Like a warm breeze through the alto pipes of a wind chime. That was one of the best times of my life. Singing nonstop and meeting lifelong friends.”

His ventures back remind him of how happy he is in his second act, too.

Tips for Making the Jump

• Create a “trust” plan. “I’m finding it takes a lot of trust, patience, and a kick-ass calling plan.”
• Stretch yourself. “Sudoku was running rampant in the theater dressing room, perhaps as if to ward off the inevitable Jell-O mold your brain has a tendency to turn into after doing the same thing for four years. I’d rather solve a real problem than a puzzle.”
• Take one day at a time. “It’s the first time, as far as I can remember, that I have had linear time to track and not some scattered Richter scale existence.”
• Maximize your impact. “The most profound effect is on my dad. He never asked anything from me. He did, however, give me anything I asked for so that I could realize my dream. Now maybe he’s helping me with my second act by allowing me to carry on his dream.”

“I’m pleased when I go back to the city and see my friends doing all sorts of wonderful things,” says Jonathan. “Being

in the hot new show and working with the greats used to be everything to me. I feel the difference now, and it is telling. I don’t wish it were me. I tell friends what I’m doing and, to my great surprise, they are excited for me and only supportive. There is also a faraway glint in their eyes of wondering what that would be like. I see them imagine it for just a brief second, and for me, that moment of recognition of something other than performing is enough for me to feel okay.

“Michael [his partner] is adjusting nicely. My neighbors up here think I’ve gone nuts. Mostly, our dog, Bucky, is the happiest of us all. Running in the woods, rabbits to chase, and the occasional deer pellet to nibble on. It’s heaven,” says Jonathan.

Words to Inspire

“Part of the luxury of being an adult is to indulge yourself not in the recapturing, but the rearranging,” says Jonathan.

Writing the Next Chapter

She taught the children well, then followed her heart and her pen to a new career.

The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.

— Ernest Hemingway

“When you do the spiritual work to heal your broken heart, your heart isn’t just mended, it’s new,

different, fresh, whole, healthy, and even holy,” says Janet Conner. She knows, the hard way.

Janet Conner, 60, Palm Harbor, Florida

Act I: Special education teacher; mother of son, Jerry Koch, 16, a freshman at the New School in New York City.

Act II: Spiritual writer, columnist, and teacher at www.spiritualgeography.com and www.writingdownyoursoul.com.

Life before the Leap

Janet did not set out to be a spiritual writer. A writing career was nowhere on her radar screen. She has degrees in speech pathology and education of the deaf, and she spent the first ten years of her career teaching and administering educational programs for deaf children.

Side Tracks Along the Way

In the 1980s, she was offered a job at CNN Headline News as an operations supervisor. “This turned out to be a blessing,” she says. “Because this job wasn’t about operations; it was about hiring great people and keeping them focused and happy  —  something a special ed administrator knows how to do. And so, I fell into a career-changing job, and I ended up creating the first video journalist hiring program at CNN.”

That experience was enough to convince the founder of a fledgling search firm that Janet could be a professional headhunter. After eleven years of recruiting, she opened a consulting practice to teach companies how to hire for themselves.

But with her fiftieth birthday approaching, Janet thought she had written the last chapter of her life experience. “I figured I’d earn a good living, give a few speeches every year, and basically live happily ever after,” she says. “But you know that old joke: ‘Want to see God laugh? Tell God your plans.’ I can well imagine the Creator of the universe doubling over in stitches, as I proclaimed that my life was done.”

Worst Moments

The more successful her business became, the more miserable her marriage. “In 1997, just as I was enjoying the first fruits of my new consulting practice, my marriage came to a screeching halt,” she recalls. “When I told my husband I wanted a divorce  —  twenty-one years of trying was quite enough  —  he imploded, and my life disintegrated into wearing a police call necklace, keeping 911 predialed on my cell phone, and, on four occasions, taking my seven-year-old son into hiding. This disappearing act may have kept us safe from a drive-by shooting, but it also kept me cloistered away from clients. In response, they disappeared, along with most of my friends, and I found myself sitting in my living room with the blinds shut, sobbing on the sofa.”

The Epiphany of Change

Then, providence stepped in.

“After two months of watching me cry, my Great Dane puppy pulled my untouched copy of The Artist’s Way off the bookshelf, dragged it down the hallway, and plopped it on my lap,” she remembers. “I got the message and started

journaling right then and there. The book said to write three pages; I wrote thirty. The next day, and every day thereafter, I poured my heart and soul onto paper. I told God every ghastly detail of every ghastly thing that was happening and demanded  —  demanded!  —  help.”

The Liftoff

The most amazing thing happened, she says. Help came. “It came in the form of questions I hadn’t been willing to ask myself, ideas I needed to wrestle with, and little nuggets of wisdom I was long overdue to digest,” she says. Suddenly, by writing my feelings, everything became more and more clear  —  the direction appeared.”

The View from the Other Side

People noticed that talking to God every day in her journal transformed her life, and she began receiving offers to write for a local church and speak to their divorce recovery group. Her spiritual writing career was born.

“Three years later, my son and I were safe, my business was restored to twice its previous earnings, and I was able to buy a new townhome,” she says. Things were looking good.”

Words to Inspire

“My dream evolved, or rather I should say it hit me over the head, knocked me out, and when I came to, picked me up, dusted me off, turned me around, and shoved me in a new direction,” says Janet. “I stumbled forward  —  there was

no other option  —  but for several years, I kept looking back with wide eyes and empty pockets, calling out, ‘Are you sure this is the right way?’ And my angel  —  or whatever you want to call that deep messenger of the soul  —  kept smiling beatifically and pointing toward the vast black hole of the frightening unknown.”

Making a Difference Every Day

For most of our lives, we have accepted our destinies. Now, we are choosing our own. In order to do so, it is necessary to take risks, to feel fear, and to make a commitment to our dreams. The best way to do so is to put them out there. No one knows what will happen when we change direction. But we have to go forward. We have to have faith, and we have to have the courage to seize every opportunity that is presented.

Here are five tips to help you move through the uncertainty to put your passions out there:

1. Tap into your networks. You want to get the word out that you are launching a new venture or at least that you are interested in exploring new opportunities. Send an e-mail to trusted friends, family, and those in your professional network, asking for their help to connect with others who may move your agenda.

2. Check out professional organizations. Are there associations, organizations, or clubs you could tap into to spread the word that you are venturing into this new field?

3. Become an apprentice or volunteer: The best way to test-drive your new path is to dive in and get a sampling of what it is like to actually run a foundation, start a small restaurant, or switch to a teaching career.

4. Market yourself. So you want to be a swimming coach? Post a flyer on the bulletin board of your local YMCA. There are also myriad Web sites, such as www.craigslist.org, where you can post your talent and professional services  —  or find opportunities to volunteer or sign up for an internship, and see if anyone is interested.

5. Ask: “How will what I want to do make a difference in the world?” When we are reinventing ourselves for a noble cause, good things are sure to come. How will the change in you, or surfacing the parts of you that make you unique, make the world a better place for others?

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