Summer

If I remain still for long enough, I find myself encircled by the acrobatic flight of swallows.  The first day of summer already feels like mid-summer; promised rain never quite falls.  Drier and warmer than usual.  Was excited yesterday to see a watermelon had actually sprouted (other plants previously germinated turned out to be tomatillos) only to find upon re-visitation of the garden today, that it had been completely devoured by someone, a slug or such.  The pumpkin is doing well, greedily expanding it's territory.  Need to get something else in soon.

Last night the newbies got schooled in proper form.  (And why is it that when she says my name, I feel like I've done something wrong?  I rarely hear my name, I suppose.  It wasn't the actual case, in fact, she was commenting on what I had improved on. There was clarification on why and how; it was helpful.)  We ran through the entire performance for the first time, with all (43+) of us included, last night.  She mentioned it became part of the training when students started asking how all this training related to acting/performing.  I need to work on my imagination.  There should always be some story running.

We did end up tight-rope walking again; I didn't manage to move any further along the rope, though maybe I improved in other ways.  (Everyone made it across originally, while holding a hand on either side; it's the solo crossing that is difficult.)  I find the metaphor of this the strongest for acting: the end point (where you are focusing) is the objective, and between you and that point are all the steps/obstacles you have to negotiate first.  (And for the life of me I can't remember the term.)  Two-thirds done.  I wish it went on all summer, though admittedly, it'll be nice to have an evening free.

I was just about to skip clown jam, when one of the others came out and got me from the bus stop.  Also, I was about to give up on the whole thing, but then we generated a lot of story ideas today.  Stuff to explore further.  It looks like the next show will be more cohesive, if we can get enough people involved.  For now it's fleshing out and writing.

Happy Solstice!

Wednesday (not Thursday)

I need a compass to tell me where I am.  I rake the sky with my eyes as I walk home, searching for the moon, to no avail:  the sliver that was dropping heavily to the west as I headed toward the bus stop just a short while ago, is now no where to be seen.

Of that I had been sure of, now lies in shards at my feet.  Hope remains in some other form of possibility, no resemblance to what I thought was true, still perhaps, there is something left to find.

Off a day, all week.  Think I might be coming down with something; doesn't feel like a cold.  Worked late last night, catering a post-show event.  The food was gorgeous, but fewer people showed up than expected, and no one ate much.  At any rate, didn't get much sleep (home late and up early).

Did not have bad dreams.  Dreamt about being an extra on a film shoot; they needed someone to eat cake (?), and I thought I should just be someone who wandered around (as you do), but they said, "No, you eat the cake."  Perhaps meaning to stop being in the background of my own life. To take what's mine, what I've earned, because I don't often.  (That came up earlier this week, too.)  Some patterns are hard to break.

Early in the evening, the fast throwing of ideas for the (clown) show.  Later, enthralled in the telling of story, knowing the inevitable outcome, and yet waiting for you to dole it out, hanging on every word.

Day 17

I find I am lacking space.  Space for new breath, or breath at all.  Over scheduled.  Partially, it's that I'm pushing for things to change, and saying "yes" to any opportunity that might afford that.  Grabbing at the air to push forward, and maybe I should stop pushing.  The job tonight, I scheduled weeks ago, not knowing what else would fill in the rest of my days.  It's not hard, I'm just tired, and feeling like I'm isolating myself a little.  Haven't found the right amount of tension.

The solo show is tomorrow.  And it will be what it will be.  I have to work at the garden in the morning, and might do an audition, but not sure...I want to be ready.  I'm not nervous yet.  I'm sure it will hit when he gives me the signal to go on.  And sing.

It's interesting.  I've mentioned before that I was surprised this is what I wrote.  I also have been surprised by how raw this still is for me.  Catalyst was six years ago.  I had thought it was about something else (trust, maybe?), and in writing this, and making it physical, I found a different meaning.  Now it also has to do with identity and all the competing outside voices telling us who we are supposed to be (or need to be), and how we find ourselves in spite of that.  What do we listen to?  How do we trust that?  How do we drown out the voices that want to control us and keep us in our place to make their own worlds more predictable?  Someone commented that it was finding a new god:  it's the difference between fear/vengeance/compliance vs. love/acceptance as you are:  You/I don't have to be perfect first.

It's been eye-opening and cathartic.  How deep and hidden beliefs lie (things we were told that sunk in like a knife through butter lodged in without our permission), how we can automatically operate on things we didn't realize were still around and buried, like some poison leaching out and affecting everything we do or choose.  Once you know it's there, find it's source, how long does it take to change?  Or do we forget about it and rebury it in neglect?

If I write another, I'll try to write it with humor.  It can be done.