Rambling again

Feeling very oily, just had my back worked on, feels ever-so-slightly better.  (Should've gone ages ago, but was waiting for a doctor appointment so I could get a prescription for massage, though in retrospect, I could have called and asked for it.  I suspect I need more than massage for this, but it's a start.)

Went on an art tour as part of "Mad Campus" at the UW.  Along with the tours today, many of the artists were also there.  (And I won tickets to an upcoming show as part of ArtsUW, which was a partner in this event.)  The show itself is up until October 23, and I'd seen most of it, but I wanted to hear what other people had to say, and any input the artists had as to why this work, why this space?  And it was enlightening.  I always enjoy hearing about concept, or what influenced it, or how you got from A to B or Q or something.  Had a good conversation about finding balance, as well as the intersection of where art, artist, and audience meet, and how you bring the audience into an interaction with the work, and still leave space for them to discover and stay interested.  Always like to talk about that.  More info on Mad Art here:  http://madartseattle.com/.

On Friday I took the day off to get some volunteer hours at the P-Patch office.  Usually that would involve stuffing envelopes, but ended up doing some mapping work, looking up the nearest intersections to every garden.  Really enjoyed it, made me want to go out and physically check all of them, since some of them didn't show up on the aerial views.  This is the kind of stuff I like doing, the person I did it for, does not, so it was a good fit.  I wandered around the rest of the afternoon taking pictures (cats that can fly, I guess):

Jet-packed, Sept 26/L Herlevi 2014

Flying Lion, Sept 26/L Herlevi 2014

I also went to go see eSe Teatro's "Don Quixote and Sancho Panza: Homeless in Seattle," by Rose Cano, directed by David Quicksall, at ACT.  She wrote this adaptation after working as a medical interpreter at Harborview Medical Center, as well as having had many conversations at shelters and other service centers that work with: homeless, addicted, immigrant, uneducated, mentally ill, etc., populations.  It follows Cervantes' story arc for the most part, just changes the location to Seattle, and the characters to people living here.  It closes tonight.

I haven't written because I haven't figured out how to say what I want to say.  I think fear keeps us from seeing one another as equal.  (As someone on Sunday said, we puff up celebrities and politicians with hot air and self-importance, and then do everything we can to knock them back down.)  We could trade places, and we hope and work so that we don't with those we view as below us.  Does having money, or "beauty", or youth, or sanity, or health, or an education, or a stable government make anyone more worthy than those who lack those things?  So much of that was luck of the draw, genetics, fate.  In our fears, we create a "them" to demonize, to fight against, to dehumanize, so that we can separate ourselves from them, and say "that will never be me."  War, or natural disaster, or illness, or loss can change our lives in an instant...if that were to happen, who are you?  When the outer trappings are gone, who are you?  And how is that worth more or less than anyone else at their core?  Did we all have dreams of what we wanted to be?  How many of us got there?  What got in the way if we didn't?  How much resilience do you have?  Some people have a lot, some very little.  (I know there are people who "cheat" the system, but they exist up and down the income spectrum, not just among the poor; I'm not talking about them.  I'm talking about everyone else.)  What's the story behind the face we wish we didn't see?  There must be something.  We are more alike than we aren't.

Afraid

Meisner.  Chair work is tortuous.  It's harder having taken such a long break from it.  I like the value of it, I see and value it's usefulness in connecting with someone else on stage and being able to pick up on what's going on, and I know it makes me a much better actor.  But, if you are easily distracted, which I am, it's really hard to do.  And I realize doing it is good in helping me to focus, calling my focus back again and again.  It's just a really long time to completely focus on someone else, or to have them focus on me.  What is seen?  It's so intimate.

Today is class seven of twenty four.  We are about to go into three classes a week (for three weeks, I think), this scares me.  I realize I survived this in clown last summer, and that was intense and I'd sit there with growing dread knowing I'd have to enter the ring at some point...it's easier to go first.  Anyway, I feel that way about the two-minute speech tonight, I'd rather get a root canal than give a speech.  And this class is scaring me now more than clown.  I feel tense in my core just writing that.  And I guess my biggest fear is that after surviving these nine months (like gestation) nothing will have changed...that I'm really just a fraud.  Maybe it's that fear that keeps my imagination hiding in some dark corner I can't get at.  Still, I think perhaps I have changed and it's just all the voices that told me I wasn't good enough trying to drown me out.  Time to get my homework done, so I show up with something to share, and those voices don't win today.

Peace.

Two Days, Jan 26/L Herlevi 2014

Control

Woke up at 4 am, panicking that I had spent all of my money on clothes and couldn't pay rent; took a while to remember that the clothes buying was actually in a dream and not real.  Thinking about it now, they were like Italian clown outfits...interesting.  If I'm going to be up this early, I should start meditating again; has fallen by the wayside as of late.

I got some advice on how to drop into the situation before entering (it's been a problem.)  I'll try finding a quiet space I guess, nerves and noise have preventing me from focusing (she suggested going out on the stairwell.)  The nerves and distractions will always be there, and when I'm better at this, hopefully, I'll be able to block them out enough, but I'm not there yet.  Meditation would probably help, too (at being able to hold a focus regardless of what else is happening, before entering.)  And I think that why my set up didn't work last night was that even though the situation I created wasn't exactly true, it was too close to a memory for me.  I also realize that I didn't think out far enough what I knew for certain about my partner.  It was there, but I hadn't thought about what it meant, and I needed to; the task and the relationship with my partner/what I knew about him/our past were definitely at odds emotionally. 

And I need to figure out what this emotional lid is all about, not only am I not reacting strongly (and trusting the ability to be able to say whatever came up-and I knew absolutely there was no barrier or lack of safety with three of the partners because I'd worked with them so much; and very little in the way with the other two, mostly that I hadn't worked enough with them to read what was going on.)  But it's not even coming up into the realm of possibility to say those things, or feel them...why is there a lid on having them affect me?  I was only able to really let one of my partners affect me deeply (I couldn't stop laughing, which was a spontaneous reaction, which is what we are going for), two others had moments, and two were really hard.  And those were emotional states, not words...words just aren't coming up.  I should do more exercises just using noises, super uncomfortable place for me.  A lot of it has to do with control and a fear of what happens when all hell breaks loose (and my immediate memory is of a lot of scary shit happening-and I've had my share, instinctively, I just don't want anymore, and that's getting in the way), but creativity also happens there; and trying to control the outcome also blocks the creativity.  Again, this is the safest place I'm ever gonna have to let go of the need to control...and again, easier said then done.  A very old habit.  Nothing progresses without an element of chaos.  And fear of the shit that happened in my past is shutting me down from acting/reacting to what's really going on now.

Failing

Which is the point, but it sucks anyway. Completely bombed, not any laugh. This was the moment I had been dreading, had to face it. In some ways it's worse, because I'm not sure what I learned from failing, except that I sucked. In other ways not as bad, there was a lot of compassion there. Or empathy. Cried a bit (walking to the bus, not in the room.) Crying a little now. What if I don't learn anything, and have to endure six more hours of feeling this shitty? There are 24 hours more of class, this was the end of week one, but we cover other stuff in at least 2 1/2-3 hours of each class.  It's tough when it's just you, no props, being told "be funny." But I'll endure it. I'm not quitting. Even if I have to endure the humiliation of never finding "funny," there's something going on in the room that's beautiful and worth experiencing.

There was a notable shift in intimacy between beginning of class and the end today. The other class begins this coming week. It involves a performance, as a learning experience. I don't believe we are expected to suddenly be brilliant, and that is somewhat of a relief. Clown stories tomorrow. I want to sleep. I'm tired. I need to shower, but the bathroom is occupied, and it will be gross by the time I get to use it. He always leaves every surface dirty and flooded in water, I'm not sure how.  (It does no good to ask him to do otherwise. And I'm too spent to want to clean it up now.) Sigh.

Finding the will to fail

A musician I met on a train once suggested I read "Art and Fear" and it just came up again, so I'll keep looking in the used bookstores, or perhaps the library.  I made something for a bake sale later today and missed going to church, so am reading "Drops Like Stars" by Rob Bell.  He talks about suffering (here it is again, kinda' what I was talking about in the post I think I ended up deleting) and how that bonds us and is the means for growth. I still maintain that we can grow from deep joyful experiences as well. (I'm kinda' tired of suffering.) But he also talks about perfection vs. failure. Which is kinda' my problem, I often feel like things have to be perfect (like being born fully formed out of the head of Zeus) and it paralyzes me into inaction. Where what would be the more useful, productive course would be to try and fail, and yet I am terrified of failing, so I make excuses not to start (exception being cooking). I think I was already timid, and then so beat down when I was wrong when I was younger that I became afraid of trying. And I know I'm not that person anymore. And I know I can have encouragement if I ask for it, or seek out experiences where the other people are secure enough in themselves to offer it to others without feeling threatened by someone else's success. And I'm grateful for "teachers" that have come into my life and said basically, "Yeah, make a fool of yourself. Overdo it. Fail. It's okay. It's how you learn." I digress. The idea is that by trying and failing and then using the failure as an opportunity to grow, even if only in small increments, progress, growth occurs. Whereas if you think you need to be perfect from the get-go (and there is this pervasive myth and focus on that out in the background noise of the world) you don't learn anything.  How can you be perfect at something you have never done before (unless it's beginner's luck?) We really can't be. We see the bright moments (of others), but we rarely glimpse the hours of practice behind them, the sacrifices made to achieve them.  It's better just to start.  And make steps everyday, even if only centimeters forward.  Practice is committment.