It is only in my forties, now, that I’ve come to recognise the importance of a welcoming and loving community. Communities are support structures that shape us in whatever we do, and we naturally come to them through education, work, hobbies, etc. What I had taken for granted was that communities are not just for us to be a member of, it requires our active engagement to thrive.
I’ve played in orchestras since I was a kid and I’m obsessed with how orchestras are organised and run. No matter what the orchestra size is, when we sit down to rehearse, we immediately take on the roles necessary to create music. Of course, the quality of the music and joy it gives to the musicians differ depending on how ‘tight’ the orchestra is, but the structure remains.
When I worked in music touring, I had found working with orchestras more straightforward compared to smaller bands and ensembles. Orchestras present themselves with their own structure, and whatever that may be, it works for them precisely because they would need to come together in the music. Even those members who do not play an instrument (administrators, librarians, management, etc.) are so intrinsic to the music making that the camaraderie is pertinent to the community’s well-being.
Whether as a musician or tour manager, I had taken for granted my role with the orchestras I had collaborated with in the past. My contribution was limited to what was expected of me, and no more. I can excuse that when I was just a kid, or when it was part of a my job, but outside that, I was avoiding confrontations or serious conversations. I didn’t want to get involved because I didn’t believe that my contributions mattered, and I feared being wrong or acting out of place.
Introversion does make it difficult for community engagement to come naturally. I don’t really enjoy going to the pub after events or meeting in groups, in general, especially without a purpose. It takes real effort for me (even if I do get that others enjoy it). I love meetings in small groups or 1-to-1s. I would love to grab a coffee with you, but would shy away from attending your party.
In the last decade, I’ve joined many new communities, as I rekindled old passions and discovered new ones. I’m playing with an orchestra again and that, paired with my PhD research and writing has organically connected me with science fiction and games communities. I’ve found them to be more and more welcoming. I often wondered if this is because I have changed, but I realised that if anything, I have actually become more introverted. At the moment, I am encouraged to conclude that the communities I am with present themselves as open and safe for my introverted awkwardness, making space for more diversity, even me.
I look to the people I keep company with and I see love, kindness and openness—a genuine desire to be inclusive. This itself is enough to keep the voices in my head—that creates doubt, belittling inwardly—at bay. I still get anxious about speaking up, I still post-mortem everything I’ve said and done on sleepless nights, but I am now able to see that no one else is doing that to me, but myself. And that’s ok because I am working on improving me and awareness is part of the journey. Learning from a good friend, I’ve started to give myself permission to dwell obsessively for a short period so that I may move on afterwards.
I am learning to pay-it-forward by opening up with love and kindness. I know that this is a part of my Rén journey and I’m excited for it. There is much beauty in the world around us and I am ready to open my eyes to it. I am ready to be good company.
This article is the product of a wonderful experiment in ideas exchange with Dr. Amy Matthewson
Thank you for sharing this very personal story, Yen! You ARE good company ... great company, actually - such a supportive, loving, kind friend. Thank you for being you.