Discovery

Insecurity paralyzes the timid heart.  It wasn’t his intent to be here again.  He has walked these halls too many times in recent memory.  Unfortunately they are circular and always lead him here.  At this point he does not know how to escape the pre-determined path.

 

There was a time he came close to breaking out.  Freedom was within reach.  Release was imminent.

 

But the circuit was familiar.  The pre-determined path was safe.  So he went back.  And it was too late he realized the mistake of this retreat.

 

Some things are not built to last.  Some things will never change.  Some things are meant to end.

 

He rails against the inevitability of forward motion.  There will be brighter days.  But right now he can not see them.

 

Time will pass and he will see.  While this does not dull the blow, it will pay a reward.  He needs to have faith.  Faith all that has happened was meant to happen.  Faith this has a reason.  Faith loss is the beginning of discovery.

Everything and One

It is funny how one thing can change everything. One shift alters the landscape. It begins here and ends some place else entirely.

She found the days passed more easily than they had in a long time. The everyday became joyful and the exceptional miraculous.

She was not so naïve to believe that it would always feel this way. But she was not in any rush to relinquish the feeling. It was something worth savoring.

A Song for Sara

She wasn’t sure what else to do, so she did something she could barely imagine.

 

She had sung for them all and found there was no more for her to do in this place at this time.  She had poured so much into the words and melodies they had taken on a life of their own.  And it was this heart’s work which carried her forward.

 

She hoped she would come back someday.  There were connections which would always be dear to her.

 

It wasn’t that she felt so brave.  It was more she knew it was what she had to do.

 

She packed her life up in boxes and bags and prepared to step off the edge of what she knew.  It was thrilling to take the risk.  But it was heart wrenching to go.

 

So the soul baring songstress with the silk smooth voice and sun bright smile prepared to sing her goodbyes to the laughter she had shared, the joy she had created and the loves that surrounded her.

 

But who would sing for the songbird?

 

Those who were happy to see her soar, but sad to see her go.

Crystalline Brilliance

blue grey shadows cast by the winter bright moon slide over a plane of unmarred snow

crystalline brilliance

softening the sharper corners

 

everything made finer by the lace of water and cold air

the north wind

an artic kiss

 

the trees bend in deference to

crystalline brilliance

blanketing each limb

 

everything made quiet by the fabric of winter’s deep mantle

silent season

sleeping landscape

 

i take in the night

crystalline brilliance

enhancing all i see

 

everything made breathtaking by that brilliance

moonlit night

soothing stillness

Pleasant Surprises

So there I was, sitting at home, mind my own business,when the phone rang.  It was an unfamiliar number with a local area code.  I answered, half expecting a desperate plea by a struggling local non profit for money or volunteer time or both.  Instead I heard, “This is _____, the director of _______. ”

I was instantly flustered.  I asked her how she was, interrupting her as she wass offering me a part in her production.  My brain froze momentarily.  It just didn’t make any sense.  I didn’t audition to get a part.  What was she thinking?

 

But I had a part.  A good part.  An interesting part.  A part that I was really excited about.  I just couldn’t wrap my brain around it.

She gave me a lot of information which I could not focus on at all.  thankfully she also explained she would be sending an email with all the information I needed.  I stammered like a moron and uttered incoherent sentences.  Or at least that’s how it felt.  I thanked her an hung up the phone.

I immediately thought of a million questions.  How often would we be rehearsing?  What nights?  When was the performance?

But this was all superceded by this pleasant feeling of surprise.  I really hadn’t expected to be cast.  And I had been.  It was a tremendous ego boost.

Now I just have to find a babysitter sso I can rehearse.

Stiff Muscles and Bad Nerves: Reprise

So I did it.  And lived.  And actually did pretty well.

So the question becomes, what do I do if I get a part? :)

Stiff Muscles and Bad Nerves

It’s like exercising a muscle after a sprain.  Everything is tight.  You don’t move the way you did before.  You have to think about things that previously were unconscious.

 

I don’t know what possessed me to decide to audition for the playwright’s festival.  Maybe the rekindled desire to immerse myself in theater.  Perhaps a renewed sense of purpose.  Most definitely in part because the actors will be paid.

 

The process of preparing for an audition has been harder than I remember.  Finding the right monologue, learning it, practicing it, perfecting it.  Worrying about whether you have any talent.  Wondering what the hell you are doing.

 

I picked a comic piece.  I’ve practiced by myself, in front of the mirror and in front of the Fiend.  I’ve even subjected some folks at work to it.  No amount of practicing is lessening the feeling that I must be crazy to think I can do this.

 

I remember a time when auditions didn’t have such a profound effect on me.  I would always be a bit nervous.  But when I’m practicing now I’m vaguely nauseous.

 

In all fairness it has been a long time since I’ve auditioned for anything in this way.  I know I will be up against folks who audition as easily as they breathe.  I have a sneaking suspicion it will feel a bit like a firing line for me.

 

I may not get a part.  I may.  I think right now that doesn’t matter.  The largest part for me is doing it.  Exercising the stiff muscle which has not been used for so long. Working through my own fears of failure and embarrassment.  Remembering why I love this and trying my best.

Nothing but Blue

The plane tipped to one side as it curved away from the earth.  The land fell away leaving nothing but eerily empty blue.  She wanted nothing more than to be back on solid ground in her own hometown. 

 

The last two days had taken lifetimes.  The exhaustion was starting to creep in around the corners.  But she had a long way to go before home.

 

Puffs of white cloud streamed over the wing breaking the monotony of ice blue.  “Just close your eyes for awhile,” he had said, “Get a bit of rest before we land.”

 

She held a book, ignored in her fascination with the expanse of blankness.  The book started to slip from her fingers as her eyelids drooped.  She pulled it back before the fall and laid it in her lap.  “I’ll just close my eyes for awhile,” she thought.

 

When her eyes closed the events of the past few days played across her memory.  Driving her father and aunt to the airport, getting everyone through security and on the plane, landing in the bright light of the nation’s capital.  Once they landed there was navigating the terminal, getting the rental car and checking in at the hotel.  Then there was the reunion.

 

These were family members none of them had seen in over twenty years.  People drawn together by loss and grief.  And, as was typical of this family, to cope they drank heavily.  She found herself at one point negotiating with the police on her cousin’s behalf, at another responsible for a rather large bar tab left behind by members of the party long departed and at another dragging a heavily intoxicated young sergeant back down the hill to his hotel room.

 

When she finally made her way to her hotel room it was hot and dry.  Her body was exhausted but her mind would not stop.  Sleep was fitful.  Morning came too soon.

 

She went through the motions of the morning routine in a hotel room too far from home.  Shower, dress, gather and go.  There was breakfast with the family followed by the military hurry up and wait in the lobby.  When finally she eased the rental car behind the limousines, she breathed a small sigh of relief to have the proceedings underway.

 

The cemetery was a sea of white headstones, occasionally punctuated by something more personal erected by a family of some means.  She found herself wondering which type of headstone he would have. 

 

There were checkpoints and protocol.  Then they were all ushered into a small room to wait some more.  His beautiful baby girls were dressed in matching dresses, coats and hats, identical impressions of one another but in reality two halves of a whole.  One angel slept while the other was engaged and inquisitive.

 

There was the service and her cousin’s powerful remembrance of her brother.  Then the journey to the grave, once again through the field of lost soldiers.  The cold air, snowflakes flying.  Her father held her arm and she clasped his hand.  She shivered, but not from the cold.  But she had to stay focused.  Her role was to worry about the logistics so her father and aunt could be there.  To hold the space so they could grieve.  And she still had to get them home.

 

The plane tilted again, an indication that this leg of the journey was drawing to a close.  She opened her eyes to a blank white outside the window.  They were in a cloudbank.  It was like flying through a clean slate.

 

She didn’t feel so tired anymore.  She would be able to get her aunt and father home.  She could hold it together a while longer.  And then she could succumb to the sadness. 

 

Sadness for the loss of a good man.  Sadness for those who were forever affected by that loss.  Sadness for the realization that her father was indeed blind.  Sadness because her aunt was so much older than she imagined her to be.  Sadness for twin angels who would grow up with two American flags and a set of medals to represent a father they would never know.

 

The plane burst through the clouds.  The city below was a marvel of motion.  The plane banked making its final turn toward the runway.  Once again there was nothing but blue.  She wiped away the tear and reminded herself that it would have to wait.

Humanity from 10,000 Feet

As the planes dips and curves over the city below

All at once I am struck by the ingenuity and progress

Represented by the cars and the houses and the roads

Struck by the imagination and wonder

Which served as the catalyst for their creation

Struck by the flaws and foibles

Which inevitably occur in everything human beings touch

Perfect in their imperfection

Doing

The stress landed on top of the tension and both were covered by the anxiety. She was caught in the middle of a whirlwind of uncomfortable emotions.

There was work. There was home. There were friends. There was family.

Every one had an expectation. Every one had a need. Every one had a price.

She had run low on empathy. She was out of patience. And she certainly had no time.

But the demands were real and unrelenting. So she soldiered on, kept trucking, bucked up and any other metaphors that indicate getting shit done. Because that is what she did.

Sometimes she whined. Sometimes she moaned. Sometimes she stomped her feet. Sometimes she cried.

But she kept doing, because it was all she could do. She knew nothing else. And there were moments when someone would appear to do beside her. And there were others when someone would appear to do in her stead. Those moments were sweet. She savored each one for the light it brought.

It was those moments that carried her through the echoing loneliness of doing alone. It was those moments that reminded her of why she did. It was those moments that made the doing worthwhile.