Something Is Always on Fire

by Measha Brueggergosman

  As a result, part of my professional armour has become my wardrobe. It could be that I believe it is entirely possible to “fake it to make it.” As in, if you look good, you will be good. If you smile, you’ll be happy. If you keep your legs moving, your lips talking, your eyes focused and your hands steady, you’re halfway there. Good posture communicates so much to the world around you because, as I often tell singers who lack confidence, the audience sees you before they hear you! Your posture can project confidence and make people think that you know what time it is. Sometimes that’s all you need to get in the door . . . or the club. An appropriate, self-reflecting wardrobe—and the confidence with which you wear it—is essential to your undercover mission of Total World Domination (TWD)!

  My foundational style is dictated by comfort and convenience. About seven years ago, during a concert with Maestro Robert Spano at Symphony Hall in Atlanta, I realized I couldn’t feel my feet. My tight shoes had cut off all the blood circulation to my tootsies. Throughout my final measures, I shifted back and forth from foot to foot, trying to create more blood flow. It didn’t work. I knew that once the music ended and the applause started I would have to bow, extend my hand to the conductor and hold his hand while we bowed together. Next, I would have to shake the hand of the concert-master and—somehow—manage to walk off the stage. I remember thinking, I’ll have to exit doing that weird hot-potato dance—hoo hah! hoo hah! And that’s exactly what ended up happening.

  That experience taught me one thing: no more shoes; it’s not worth it. Why should I suffer for the occasional peek of footwear from under my floor-length gown? Far better to lengthen my skirts so that the hems pool on the floor, hiding blissfully comfortable bare feet, than to subject my fans to more hot-potato dances.

  The way I see it, in this life there is enough discomfort to endure. You don’t have to invite it on yourself.

  Once I started travelling more and doing higher-profile gigs, I saw my relationship to Canadian designers as my own mini Canadian ambassadorship. Early on when I was still heavy, I usually wore a basic black velvet gown, splashed with colourful shawls that I would switch at intermission. This style developed because in Germany I was no longer available for fittings with my mother, my original gown maker (though to this day she would still only claim that she “does a little sewing”). The black dress provided a neutral canvas for the versatile shawls—made perhaps of chartreuse satin or a fuchsia silk blend—which I draped in ever more ingenious ways, pinning the shawls precisely in place to avoid a wardrobe malfunction or any fussing with them. They also taught me discipline, since I needed to train myself to never touch them while performing. I’d learned early on how distracting fidgeting can be, and it became one of my biggest pet peeves to see classical performers mess with their clothing onstage. Hello? We can see you. And that shawl or scarf or tie or jacket or bead of sweat or fallen hair curl is not who I bought tickets to see, so for the love of all things right and just, please stop making it the star of your show!

  On the last birthday of this decade, when I was going through a particularly rough time, I decided to dye my hair platinum blond. I think I’d always wanted blond hair, but for a black girl from the dark side of Fredericton, it seemed a little ridiculous. I had originally planned to shave my head clean but thought better of it once I did a little reminiscing about the Britney Spears green umbrella incident, where she spiralled into more than a few well-documented cries for help. So I backed away from the head-shaving option. I kept the length and changed the colour, instead.

  If I’m being honest, I think I needed to hang on to the femininity that is traditionally associated with long hair. I’m not saying Jada and Halle aren’t droppin’ it like it’s hot. I just mean that I wanted to feel like I could stand shoulder to shoulder with them before I did the chop. Things were kinda raw then in the Brueggergosman camp, and I didn’t want to cut my hair out of desperation. I wanted my choice to be completely rooted in style and not because I was trying to make my life simpler. At that point in my life, given everything that was not working, I clung to everything that was workin’, honey.

  And thank God I did! I had no idea the year that I was in for. Despite the success in my career, my personal life was on fire. My marriage had broken down (for the second and, what looks like, final time) and I was shocked to discover that I was broke. I had never had anything to do with our finances, and the realities of getting a divorce and taking over my house given my dire money situation was beginning to take its toll. I didn’t even know what a heat pump was or how to pay a cell phone bill—let alone where the money was going to come from to pay it. Then there were the implications of starting to parent my boys on my own—one of whom is gifted, with anger-management issues—while also maintaining my career (because it was sure not the time to get sick or stop making money). Putting out fire after fire after fire was overwhelming me.

  All this to say that during the hard days of my thirty-ninth year, a simple compliment about my hair was sometimes all the encouragement I got. Something that might seem so superficial, from a stranger or a colleague, could douse the flames of self-doubt and panic that were threatening to consume me. Please consider that the next time you want to compliment someone but think better of it for whatever reason. There is never a bad time to give a compliment. You never know. It could be the one thing that keeps the recipient from giving up. Your compliment could be the perfectly timed push he or she needs to make it through that day. For me, there were some days when I was so close to not getting out of bed. Yet I knew I would because there was no way forward but through. And the compliments on my hair made me feel fierce for the fight!

  I refused to lose hope. And circumstances that I could not have foreseen (or afforded) entered in. As I type on my seven-year-old MacBook Pro in a poolside room in the mountains at Tree of Life Cabinas in southern Costa Rica, I am humbled by the expanse and variety of my life up to this point. There is no way I can afford to be here on my own, but somehow, I am listening to the jungle sounds while I try to keep from sweating to death. How can I not think everything’s going to be as it’s meant to be? When the receipts are read, the “it’s complicated” wife of Markus Bruegger and Mama to Shepherd Peter and Sterling Markus stayed juicy, adventurous and imperfect the whole of her life. And she wrote this book that let her lay herself bare and hopefully helped other people do the same.

  Yes, my husband has moved out of our home, my finances have blown up (in a bad way), but my artistry is redefining itself (in a good way). On balance, my heart has expanded several times, my heart has broken several times, but it has also been strengthened every time in the healing. Rinse and repeat. That has essentially been this banner year for me. How I experience and react to all “the stuff” is at the fore of my mind. “Stuff” like touring what I consider to be my most personal album to date, Songs of Freedom; singing for Her Majesty the Queen of England (again); defending Madeline Ashby’s Company Town all the way to the finals of a national book show called Canada Reads; and ending it all by making sure my babies were well taken care of so that I could take my newly blond half-shaven head to Costa Rica for two weeks and put the cherry on the sundae of this period in my life. Being here at my friends Ben and Nate’s slice of heaven on earth ties a big red bow on a year that has been a verifiable shit-storm of all that could possibly burn up and take me with it in the process. But I remain standing and so will you. Whether the storms are here or their arrival is pending—some hurricane, tornado or firestorm hits us all eventually.

  The most extreme emotional, financial and spiritual battles I’ve had to face to date have helped me to see how my mother’s example of not throwing any quality article of clothing away would lead to an accumulation of clothing (and cosmetics) that has sustained me in my job and my life, since I have no money to buy anything new. I believe what we choose to wear, in addition to being a reflection of who we are, can also tell the story we want people to believe. I have known true discomfort, and at
least where my wardrobe is concerned, I don’t see the need to experience it while doing the job I love.

  I’m confident that the unpredictability and instability of my thirty-ninth year will leave me standing in a truer version of my Self than I’ve ever known. The process of getting there won’t be graceful or neat. At least, it hasn’t been so far. One of the things I love about the teachings of the incredible Christian scholar and orator Bishop T. D. Jakes is that he states there is no way to be both effective and pretty. In his words: “The only way to become a wise woman is through the stupid things you’ve done.” And if you’re thinking, If that’s true, then I should be Solomon by now, then you’re my people. Everything in my life right now is an open wound, and I’m not going to keep stitching it up, because I’m coming to believe that I’m the most effective when I’m the most broken. I have to believe God can use someone who isn’t a perfect parent, or who has survived divorce, or who is under a crushing debt load. What keeps me from total despair is that I can’t be disqualified from grace because I cheated on my husband or have back taxes to pay. I refuse to lie down and curse myself for the sins of my past. Besides, I’m too busy building an empire to feel ashamed and guilty all the time. I am not defined by my mistakes, and instead, I will use them to encourage as many people as will listen, because the presence of dirt in my life is also the presence of Truth and Beauty.

  DATE: SUNDAY, MAY 23, 2010, 9:03 AM

  FROM: MEASHA BRUEGGERGOSMAN

  TO: NEARESTS AND DEARESTS

  SUBJECT: OUT OF THE FRYING PAN . . .

  What a difference this time has made. I’m praying for all of your support. I’ve realized that while there’s tremendous joy in parts of my life (because God is faithful), if I’m being honest, I haven’t been truly content for a long time, and that dissatisfaction has seeped into all my relationships and my work. I’ve managed to cope and, in some cases, thrive up to this point, but I knew if I didn’t take this time for myself, things would only get worse.

  Thank you for following me on this journey. It has been gruelling and exhausting and humbling. I know some of you out there like to envision what I’m doing so that you can think of me, pray for me or just feel like you’re with me in some way. That, along with my bulldog, steel-clad determination, will sustain and edify me. Believe that.

  Humbled and grateful,

  Measha

  Once you come to a place where you acknowledge your worthiness and create (or even elbow into existence) the space you need to move forward, ready and hungry for your purpose, how do you go about reaching your goals? Accomplishing your desires? Hitting your mark? Fulfilling your destiny?

  How do you get what you want?

  However you phrase it, I hope you’ll forgive me for simplifying, but . . . well . . . you ask. The act of asking is in itself its own first step. It requires precision, succinctness and articulation.

  Who do you ask?

  Whoever’s got the power to give you what you want.

  This may require some courage. This may require a good look in the mirror. This may also be where opinions might diverge, because this could also be a chance to get all existential, which might result in you doing nothing since what would be the point in fighting the inevitable? What I hope is that it results in the realization that no one has control over anything. Including who you think might have the power to control your own fate.

  But then, who is in control? I mean for sure, for sure. I know what I believe, but I can’t say for sure. No one can. So then, perhaps it’s best to deal with the here and now. Oprah (can you hear the angels sing at the sound of her name?) once said that one way to accomplish your goals was to map them and retrace the steps from your destination to your current starting point. And then perform them in reverse, starting with the one closest to you. This simplifies the situation to a series of locks and doors. Locks that need to be opened and doors that need to be walked through. Questions that need to be asked and answered. A road map. If you want to be a mechanic, you don’t show up at a garage, point at something and say, “I’m here to repair that.” You would likely be escorted out rather quickly once they realized you were serious. Several steps were skipped before walking into that garage, all of them necessary. Licence, diploma, school, money for school, interest and someone’s car are just a few.

  Don’t nitpick with me. I may not know the exact trajectory of the career mechanic, but I do know it doesn’t just happen. Just like anything you want. The sandwich doesn’t magically appear in your hand while you binge-watch Scandal. You have to make it. The point I’m trying to illustrate is that the goals we set for ourselves, no matter their motivation, can be mathematical in their execution. The steps, no matter how tiny, all have an order. To skip any would lead to a different result. You’ll have choices and distractions. I’m not saying there won’t be variations to the plan, or even that the plan won’t completely implode and need a reboot. Sometimes it will feel like you have no options but to go in a direction that feels backward. I would challenge that it is still forward; it’s just the second or third or fourth time you’ve been there. But you’re not the same. That would be impossible, since change is constant, no matter how minute. The destination can change, depending on the path you take. There will be surprises. Hell, sometimes the bottom will fall out completely. What will ultimately steer your course and ensure its inevitability is how you react. There are several paths to the ocean, and you have to have faith that they will all eventually end in water.

  To be clear, I haven’t come close to achieving what I believe my deepest contribution will be. My children are young, my voice and body are constantly changing, and no one knows what the future will bring. I could use the illusion of early success as my most concrete evidence and my most alluring deception. It could be perceived that I was getting everything I wanted, and in some areas of my life that was true. But I have to be sure I’m giving value to the right things or, in the end, I’ll come up empty.

  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Luke 12:34) Your heart and your treasure are always found in the same place. Without fail. They mutually define each other. If you find the statement confusing, maybe you’ve been forcing yourself to believe something that isn’t true about your job, your relationship, your finances, your kids. For my part, every new day is an exercise in prioritizing the sustainable and irreplaceable. I fail regularly, but I keep trying because I will have nothing to show for all my efforts if I don’t enjoy the bumpy journey to wherever it is I’m meant to be going.

  This is why I say to you that when you ask what it is you want, don’t forget to listen to the answer. And if you don’t get the answer you want, ask again. And maybe again. And then check your ears. Because maybe you’re only hearing what you want to hear. The answers may sound the same, but I assure you, they’re not. Get all the information you can possibly gather and then change. Small variation, big variation. It doesn’t matter. Change something. Because the definition of insanity is repeating the same thing and expecting a different result.

  There may be a fine line between persistence and perseverance, but it all ends inelegantly. Messiness and inelegance are important distinctions. Witty repartee versus a shouting match. Fries or frites. Scolding a child or shaming him.

  Be fair to yourself. Recognize when things have gone well for you and take your bow. Acknowledge your sacrifice and bask in how it paid off. Toil, struggle, fight and bleed. But take a beat to raise a glass and hip hip hooray yourself. Take up the space you’re going to take up on this earth. There is enough room for everyone. Strut your stuff. Give yourself a high-five because you bet on you and won. When it’s earned, be blessed enough to say, This is mine. I own this. I deserve this. I worked hard to get here and this is my moment. No one can take it away from me. I will not be robbed. I will be who I deserve to be and people will gravitate toward the generosity and empathy that seep from my pores. The meekest among us shall be protected by the strongest above us. All are
safe. All are worthy. I am special because I know this and I serve this. I am a frequent loser but a good and generous winner.

  The wisdom in any moment is that the difference between the winning and the losing is of no consequence if your mind is right. For me, that means my mind is fixed on Jesus. That doesn’t make me anywhere near perfect. But it does make me highly favoured.

  I believe there are circumstances in which you can feel enough contentment from having the weapon that you don’t even need to preoccupy yourself with winning the war. Because if God is the weapon, then the war is irrelevant. It ceases to exist. The struggle is useless against an opponent who isn’t even fighting because He has already won. We don’t need to fight or struggle or tie ourselves into knots. We’ve already got the prize. If God is for us, who can be against us? Our job is to persevere. Our job is to work. Our job is to pray without ceasing. To build the bridge to the other side, even if the other side is ablaze. Throw the lifeline anyway. Because if you’re on the winning side, you have the answer to a question that, in its asking, always leads to the same answer. So, go ahead. Ask a question with the expectation of an eternal answer. I dare you.

  And even if you don’t believe what I believe. If you’ve cultivated the knowledge, the resources, the discipline and the mental wherewithal to articulate what it is you really want out of life, or even just what you want out of the day, then for heaven sakes, don’t give up now! Go do it.