Transition

It was so dark this morning, I convinced myself my housemate had left earlier than normal and I didn't need to get up yet.  When I finally did check the clock, it was long past the time I should've gotten up.  Past the time to catch the bus to work.  And so, I guess I won't mind the impending time change and afternoon darkness quite so much.

Mid-autumn.  Scorpio season.  Halloween and All Saints' Day.  When people believed (believe?) the veil between this earthly life and whatever exists after death runs thin.  And we touch or glimpse the unknown, the things we fear the most.

I was watching a video on YouTube about how we have a light and shadow side, as does everything, and if we don't address the shadow, it expresses itself anyway, and if we are able to look it squarely in the face, we can learn from it and be inspired; or at least become aware of why we do the things we do, behave the way we do, respond as we do, without necessarily wanting to.  Understand more what has become ingrained behavior, and maybe decide it's not inevitable, we can change.

And the show from last weekend dealt with death.  I go back and forth in my mind whether or not the character had already died and the conversation was in a holding place after death, where one lets go; or if she was hallucinating it all at a point before death, and dies in the end.  Either way, there was a final transition of letting go at the very end.

Working on the show, and listening, experiencing what I could from the process and from backstage, didn't make me depressed.  It made me feel super alive, and happy, and in love with the world, especially all the people involved.  Someone said something about the going from two people to a crowd, and I can't remember what they said exactly, but there are two people, then the sensory deprivation, and beams of light that rise from the wings like sun (or a double sun, so that it washes away the darkness) and lights that twinkle like stars from the ceiling and a rising song, all before the HYPERCUT crowd (us) comes on stage...I don't know, the last couple of times I experienced that transition, the gentleness of it, like coming out of a long, dark tunnel, a long dark, night (out of the lonely dark, and into light and company) was so moving to me.  That someone designed that: it was perfect.  It made me cry.  (Of course, then I got disoriented on one of my very last exits, smacking hard into one of the main performers-I apologized later.  Hurt so bad, I missed my last entrance, standing in the wings in a daze. - Every transition happened in blackout.)

And what seemed like it had been longer than a week (barely a week), was suddenly over.

And it's on to the next thing.  (And autumn shows us how to let go, and move on.)  And I want that next thing.  I live for this.