Whom Seek Ye?

I shared the following Ash Wednesday Meditation at our church's evening service two years ago. Today, pregnant and hoping for an Easter baby again, it feels all the more intensely relevant:

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Now after the Sabbath, toward the dawn of the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And behold, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. And for fear of him the guards trembled and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead, and behold, he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him. See, I have told you.” So they departed quickly from the tomb with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. (Matthew 28:5-8)

I am a theatre artist. So, for this Ash Wednesday mediation we are going to delve a bit into theatre history. This makes sense in this context because if we travel back to the birth of Western theatre, we end up in church. We are going back to before any great schisms and church splits, before the Catholic Church and the Orthodox church broke apart, which means way before Luther nailed anything to any doors. Pre denominations. Pre non-denominations. We’re at around 970AD, about 500 years before Gutenberg invented the printing press. 

Now, that printing press fact is important because we all know that with its invention came the unlocking of massive barriers in society, opening doors to literacy for the average bloke, marking a turning point in history and kicking into gear social and industrial revolution. No wonder there were church splits coming. But that's off topic- we’re before that. The average person still can’t read. The Christian church is liturgical and that liturgy is in Latin. Some of the liturgy is sung antiphonally- kind of like a call and responsive reading, but to the tune and pace of a musical chant- and much of it is simply spoken by the priests. 

I don’t know Latin. I have a masters degree and a full time job and live in the wealthiest nation in the world and I do not know Latin. So, imagine the folks sitting in church in 970AD, before the invention of the printing press, listening to liturgy in Latin. They didn’t understand it either. And they couldn’t open their own Bible to follow along or bring up their Latin to English translation app. Basically, the gospel was very difficult to disseminate. The average Christian sitting in church did not have the opportunity to hear and understand the very Word in which they believed. 

And then came Bishop Ethelwold of Winchester, England. Now, we can’t be sure if he was the one who really started what I’m about to tell you, but he was the one who wrote the Regularis Concordia, a book of rules sent to the English Benedictines giving directions on how to stage the very birth of, as I said at the beginning, Western theatre. In church. You see, the priests knew that their congregations didn’t understand the liturgy. And they didn’t like it. They wanted to make it more accessible, more engaging. So, I kid you not, they decided to act it out. Three priests took a short part of the Mass called with Quem Quaeritis,  the “Whom Seek Ye,” and they divvied up roles. One stood on the high alter- that’s the angel- and the other two approached him from the back of the cathedral- they’re playing the women who went to Jesus’ tomb. As they reached the front of the church the angel/priest on the alter said the first line: Quem quaeritis in sepulchro, O Christicole? Whom seek ye in the sepulcher, O Christian women? The two priest/women replied: Jesum Nazarenum crucifixum, O caelicolae. Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified, O heavenly one.

And there we have it. Out of the question “whom seek ye,” theatre is born. From this beginning, came the development of playlets, adding other Biblical scenes. Soon clergy added multiple platforms and the congregation would move from one to the next to see each successive scene. When the platforms and facades became too elaborate they were moved onto pageant wagons which included a dressing area for costume changes and soon the wagons had moved out of the church building and the plays had expanded to include non-Biblical stories spoken in the vernacular of the people. Traveling theatre troupes popped up, and the rest is theatre history. 

As a theatre artist I am drawn to the fact that the very root of my profession is grounded in asking questions. More importantly, as both a theatre artist and a Christian, I am challenged by the question “whom seek ye?” And here we are at the beginning of Lent: a time of reflection and meditation, a time of mourning for the necessity of Christ’s sacrifice, a time of anticipated joy and celebration because the sacrifice brings redemption and reconciliation. It is in the 40 days that we have between now and Easter that we are given pause to ask ourselves: who do I seek? 

40 days. Christ took 40 days too. Well, he didn’t take them really. He didn’t set aside time to fast and pray. In Mark 1:12 we’re told that after Jesus’ baptism “the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.” That Jesus had to be driven out tells me that, just maybe, he didn’t anticipate this as a peaceful time of reflection and mediation comparable to the Lenten season. No- this was temptation. Head to head with Satan. According to Luke 4, Jesus “ate nothing all that time and was very hungry.” In Mark’s account (Mark 1:12-13) we’re told Jesus “was out among the wild animals...” Jesus has this incredible baptism moment with his cousin, the Spirit of God descends upon him, and then out he’s driven into the Judaean desert surrounded by wild animals, hungry, and with Satan overtly tempting him for 40 days. 

What is striking to me is not that both Jesus’ temptation and Lent are 40 days long. That’s not why I bring this up. Its good thematic planning on the part of the people who invented and instituted Lent- which was in the very early days of the established Church, a while before the birth of theatre and a good long time before the invention of the printing press. And, by the way, Lent isn’t 40 days long just because of Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness. Jesus’ 40 days put him right in line with Moses and Elijah. Remember, Moses spent 40 days fasting on Mt. Sinai before receiving the Ten Commandments (Exodus 34:28). Elijah walked for 40 days and nights to reach Mt. Sinai (1 Kings 19:8). What is striking about Jesus’ 40 day stint to me is that it is at the beginning. This 40 days of temptation- it is the kick-off for Jesus’ ministry. It is the starting place for Christ’s journey towards the garden and the cross and the tomb. The chronology of Lent-Palm Sunday-Holy Week-Good Friday-Easter always makes me think that the temptation of Christ was after his ministry- that it was a break from the hubbub of healing and preaching; a chance for Jesus to catch his breath before the final, horrifying and then exuberant stretch of his earthly work. But, no! It wasn’t a break and a breather- it was temptation. And it wasn’t after his ministry- it was before. It was not to prepare for death, but to prepare for daily ministry.

Which, in the context of our busy and complicated lives, may sound a more honest reflection on what your Lenten season may look like. Lets be honest- in the next 40 days we must still navigate conflict and cook dinner. We must still drive in traffic and respect our bosses. All the pressure and responsibility of life continues bustling itself against our attempts at reflection and mediation and preparation for Easter. But Jesus didn’t just go on a retreat in preparation for his earthly ministry either- no, no, he was tempted. Just like us. Just as we are bound to be in the next 40 days. 

So, this Lenten season is not really a time to be set aside. It isn’t a time when we are to be especially Christian, especially reverent. It is not just a time for giving up meat or alcohol or revisiting your New Year’s resolution of working out every day. Lent is an opportunity. It is a chance in the church calendar to, in the midst of our continuing, busy and bustling lives, check in that we are living every day in preparation (and anticipation!) for the work and ministry of Christ. Because Christ’s work and ministry? It is all around us every day too, in the midst of that bustle and traffic.

I wish that when I asked myself “whom seek ye?” it was a simple answer. I wish it for the sake of my relationships that need redeeming, for the work to which I am called, for the prospect of my influence on our unborn baby. I wish that I could peer into myself and say without hesitation: I seek Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified and risen one; I seek him and find him every day. 

Yet, I fear that instead of the women at the tomb, I am more like those who seek Jesus in John 18. The lines are the same, though played by different parts. In verse 4 Jesus himself asks a band of soldiers “whom do you seek? and they answer him in verse 5 with “Jesus of Nazareth.” Jesus asks again in verse 7, and the soldiers again reply “Jesus of Nazareth.” And so they are- they seek Jesus, but to crucify him. 

I fear that I can answer “Jesus” to this vital question too, but that all too often, through my actions, it is on my way to crucifying my God. In my actions, in my thoughts and words, rather than seeking to find and praise a risen savior, I am seeking him in the midst of my continued sin. I seek the admiration of my peers and the renowned of my accomplishments. I seek the comfort of my possessions and dominance in relationships. I refuse forgiveness and I justify my pride. And with all these actions, I confirm the necessity of Christ’s sacrifice. I seek him because I know so deeply my need for the redemption of his death and resurrection, because I know that when I am tempted, I am too often swayed. 

This Lenten season, I pray that we each take this opportunity to question whom we seek. On Good Friday, may we remember our role as the betrayers and the crucifiers. And I pray that come Easter we may also each rejoice with the women at the tomb, seeking our risen savior and finding his tomb empty, celebrating that though we need Christ’s sacrifice, it is finished. We are redeemed. I pray that in the next 40 days we would find ourselves tempted and triumphant with Jesus, active in his ministry, and grateful for every opportunity he gives us to acknowledge our desperate need for him.

a little letting go

It's here, practically, and I'm so, very bummed about it.

We had high hopes for this summer. Not to say it was a down-and-out summer, by any means. We had an awesome start to it with our west coast vacation, and then our first anniversary. But after that, it turned out to be a rather overwhelmingly busy summer...and busy was the last thing we wanted. We have immediate family sick, going through changes, and making big decisions. We have both considered big changes too, and worked lots of nights despite ourselves. We have failed at finding time for date nights, but have still mostly succeeded at staying connected. Chicken kebab salads from our favorite local dive, called in for late night take out, is probably my favorite date anyway.

The sign of the end came last week when I sat and watched our final camp performance of the summer. Since July, every two weeks we've put up a show, from Disney musicals to last week's teen theatre intensive, which focused on scenes from Shakespeare and songs by Jason Robert Brown. I'm not a fan of camp. I prefer a summer without camp on my plate. Staffing and such brought me back to it this year though, and I actually found myself a bit sad during the show on Friday afternoon. I hope this is my last ever camp, and despite that it is something I very much want to let go of, it still requires letting go. I feel so proud watching my kids stand bravely in front of a crowd, more confident than they were on Monday, more aware of their strength and presence. I will miss that.

And I do know the summer isn't quite done yet! We've still a little time before Labor Day. Hence, a summer sleepover tonight with my favorite niece, Katie El. It's her first, ever sleepover! For a little happy Tuesday treat, enjoy a video I posted a while back when the lovely Katie El was still a mere 3 years old. It's sure to make your day.

a preview

My disappearance was warranted, I promise. We moved and then we flew the coop- off to CA and southern Oregon for 10 days of quality hubby time. It was beautiful and full, and I'm excited to share about all it entailed. To start, here's a preview with a few select iPhone shots:

The view of San Francisco from Twin Peaks, breakfast over a campfire, our first IN-N-OUT experience, and a show at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. And that's just a preview. We're excited to be back and in our new home. Oh yeah- I have a new home to share about too. More to come, more to come. In the meantime, its good to be back.

sunshine on my shoulders

After two consecutive tech weeks I tend to be rather shot. My mind is mush and my patience is thin. Thank goodness for hugs from my mom and my sister, snuggling with my husband, and long walks with the pup. Praise be that I'm held up by such incredible community. I would not be capable of anything I do without my community.

aladdin

I can't post pictures of my students here, but I can OVER HERE in a blog post for work.
CHECK 'EM OUT! The stage looks pretty awesome & the kids look pretty darn awesome too. 

welp

When I direct a show I'm typically directing two casts, with 40-60 kids in each. Each has their own tech week and performance weekend. My oh my, the second week is hard.

Last week was tech for the "Bravo" cast. It was the BEST.TECH.WEEK.EVER. The cast was organized and on the ball. They were creative and kind. It was a breath of fresh air. This week was just bound for doom. No matter how last night went, it was going to feel like a sham-wow in comparison to Sunday's lovely, polished, funny show. And it certainly was a sham-wow. It took an hour and a half to run 20 minutes of the show. Lines were foreign. It was as if the entire thing was brand new to the leads. The ensemble was pretty ok, but there's only one group number in the portion we were running.

The redemption of all this came moments after the final student left. Talking with dear friends who happen to be the Music Director and Stage Manager, I ended up on the floor laughing over the ridiculousness of the rehearsal [deep breath]. We laugh and remind ourselves it always feels like this. We say "see you tomorrow," and know that ultimately this is work, not the end of the world. 

I'm so thankful to have learned a few things over the past 3.5 years in this job. It always comes together. The kids are more important than the show. If you don't give them a snack and bathroom break, one of them will pee on the stage. Important things to learn my friends, important things.

it always comes together

Jake and Dallas sitting on stage this weekend, during our light cue-to-cue.
Dallas was meant for the stage.

Another tech week has arrived- long days and and nights in the theatre, long hours in the office, lots to juggle. Yesterday the entire cast of kids, ages 5-16, stood on stage perfectly arranged for their cast photo. Then, my camera died. I flashed back to the final moments of my rural home stay in northern Uganda, when- as I was being picked up to leave- my camera died. An attempt at a family photo with me and my rural home stay family was foiled. I'll never have that photo.

I'm still annoyed at myself for that.

None the less, yesterday was not that bad. Further delay in getting the photo to the marketing department who will then get it to all the local newspapers? Yes. Never another chance to get the photo? No. I'll get it this afternoon. My camera battery is charged and ready.

And the kids look great! They sound...okay. They'll sound great by Friday. And in the most stressful of moments, when it looks as if the show is going to be a big, fat, flop, I remind myself that it always comes together.

Happy Tuesday, friends. Remember, it always come together.

"beyond my direction"

I'm in the process of interviewing summer staff candidates. As you can imagine, some interviews are better than others. And some are WAY better. After the first question of an interview yesterday, I blatantly told the applicant that she is a perfect fit for our programming. Perfect. I am so excited.

Her interview was inspiring. If it hadn't been a phone interview, I think we could have just kept chatting for hours. In response to my asking of a time when she felt successful, she told a story of working with children on a Shakespeare production and seeing them suddenly "get it." "They went beyond my direction." Bah! That's it! That's the gorgeous, moving potential of our work!! That sometimes- not always, and certainly not daily, but sometimes- there is this *spark* and suddenly something happens that is so far beyond ourselves. It clicks and you see a kid transform and create something you could not have pulled out of them. They create something beyond your direction.

I love it. It makes our work so much larger than ourselves. It instigates this acknowledgment of the great potential within each of us. We are so much larger than we allow ourselves to be.

Be big today. Acknowledge the great potential you possess and find a new octave of your abilities. Be larger than yourself.

PS: Talk about potential- that painting is by my 4 year old niece. Isn't she incredible?

stud time

Look at that stud. Jake and I have been extra short on time together lately. So, he has made a habit of stopping by at the beginning of rehearsal every day. He just stays for a minute or two, makes me smile and tells me something funny that Dallas did. Last weekend he even chaperoned a trip with me into Boston. A man willing to spend five hours with 11 teenagers? I'll take him.

Even better than chaperoning a teen trip, last night he stayed up to the wee hours processing human rights abuses with me. My Human Rights in Theatre class is wearing on me, and the subject matter certainly isn't getting any easier. I'm thankful for it- this is exactly the work I want to do- but it still leaves me teary eyed in bed next to a husband who really needs some sleep. None the less, last night he sat up talking with me, and processing the heaviness present in our world and our role in it. And even though I woke up still heavy with all this information and reality, I also woke up grateful for the relationships in my life.

May it be a grateful Wednesday, friends. Only a few more days and we'll be on the road to spend Easter with my family. [Hooray!]

sometimes its worth it

Sometimes work is hard. I get angry and anxious and I just let all those balls I'm juggling topple to the floor. Sometimes work is worth it. Praise God. The good moments- monumental or minimal- keep me smiling and loving and going. Moments like this one a few weeks ago feel monumental. Then there are days like yesterday when everything just fit. It made sense and my place in it was right and all was well with the world. Even obnoxious Celtics fans on the train ride home couldn't upset my rosy view on things. My husband fast asleep when I got home from class? No matter. All was right and good. 

Two things prompted these feelings, and they both happened during our rehearsal "warm-ups." My staff for the current production have to be late every day. They're rushing from other jobs, and frankly I love working with them enough that I'm willing to handle 60-100 kids all by my lonesome for 15 minutes. Yet, this also means that for 15 minutes of every day I don't have enough hands and voices for all my responsibilities. As such, I've been asking some of my older students to lead warm-ups- a job usually taken by a staff member. Now, this isn't a particularly complicated time in our rehearsal process, but it is a vital one. The entire group is in a circle, as many as 100 kids, and we are collaboratively warming up our minds, voices, and bodies (i.e. we're playing theatre games). It also just so happens that my oldest kids in this production are all teenage boys. Precious, kind, talented teenage boys.

Here are the moments, in all their glory: The first happened when the boys leading warm ups called on a younger child to lead a specific game. It is a call and response exercise- a do-what-I-do,-say-what-I-say game- and we tend to get very percussive and dance-y with it. The child they called on to lead it has cerebral palsy. At first I cringed- "will he be able to do it?", "will the other kids judge him?" Then I let it happen. I remembered that these kids have developed a true community together and they have begun to flex some impressive love-your-neighbor muscles. So, he lead this group of at least 60 kids in the exercise. His quirky, jerky movements were perfect. He smiled and laughed, and the entire group laughed along with him. And it was so beautiful. I could not have orchestrated it, and I was so thankful to take part in it. THEN, as if that wasn't enough, the warm-ups ended with the four teenage boys choosing to collaboratively lead a song- a silky-smooth, floating, ballad we use to focus the group and get our vocal cords ready for rehearsal. These four TEENAGE BOYS stepped into the center of a circle of their peers, and together lead this gorgeous song. I stepped back and just listened to all these voices- teenage voices down to the 6 year olds, all singing together and respecting one another.

And that's why my job is sometimes worth it- all those voices, rising together, finding value.

I look forward.

I just read My Name is Rachel Corrie for my Theatre in Human Rights class. I don't care about where you stand on the Israel-Palestine conflict. Within my own family there are strong opinions on both sides. Regardless, the story of Rachel Corrie is a moving one, and not because it tells which side is right and which side is evil. There isn't a black and white. The reality is that Rachel Corrie lost her life- at 23- for a cause for which she felt convicted, but for which she did not intend to die. I find her incredibly honest and brave.

So, for today, a Rachel Corrie quote I've been mulling. I'm thankful to have read a bit of her story, and I am sad that the world lost her passionate spirit so early: I look forward to seeing more and more people willing to resist the direction the world is moving in: a direction where our personal experiences are irrelevant, that we are defective, that our communities are not important, that we are powerless, that the future is determined, and that the highest level of humanity is expressed through what we choose to buy at the mall.  

[And if you're interested in reading more: a 2008 article from the UK Observer.]

tidbits

• I thought it was suppose to rain the whole morning and afternoon, but the forecast was wrong. My feet stayed dry through the entire commute, and my cold continues to heal rather than worsen. I've never been so thankful for a dreary, sunless day. 
• During class this morning something triggered the memory of my [now] husband bursting into tears on a drive up to Vermont 15 months ago. At the time I was honestly concerned for his sanity and wellbeing. The next day I was wearing a new ring, and crying myself. I love this funny, crazy, loving husband of mine. I'm so thankful for him.
• I may have finally realized I'm a director. I'm in a scene for another grad student and rehearsal today was driving me c r a z y. I kept restraining the urge to switch roles with her. The thing is, she's an actor, through and through. And then I realized: I'm a director. My thinking has shifted- I'm not thinking from the perspective of acting anymore, and I don't even- dare I say it?- really love acting like I used to. It feels foreign. [And I'm thrilled.]

["Robin Love" by Jess Graham. Find more of the like here and here. I particularly love Jess' murals. One is housed in the bathroom of our favorite restaurant in VT- very near to where we got engaged.]

my proudest moment

Some kids have it rough. As if trudging through adolescence isn't enough of a struggle, one of my students lost his father in the past year. A handful of years prior, he lost his brother. And last week he was in the hospital himself. My heart breaks for this kid. He is a good kid and I can't help but admire his courage and tenacity already.

And my other students- how they have surrounded him with support and encouragement- they have made me proud in a whole new way. This weekend we put up two shows. One was Midsummer Night's Dream, and the other was a show we wrote with a group of teens a year and a half ago. This student who was in the hospital this week was suppose to be playing the lead in Midsummer and telling his own story in the new show. His absence was persistently obvious and deeply felt.

In the new show there is a scene where all the teens sit on stools and share moments of experiencing loss- from losing a pet hamster, to the loss of not playing childhood games anymore. My absent student had written about his last interaction with his brother. On Saturday, without warning, my students included this reflection in the scene. Before the final monologue, they each recited a line of the absent student's story, and said the final line in unison. It was the most beautiful, reverent show of love I have ever witnessed on stage. Out of a unified desire to honor the absent student, they shared a vulnerable part of his personal story, and they did so respectfully and creatively.

I have never felt so utterly proud.

RickRoll'D

One of my favorite students [I admit it. I totally have favorites.] sings the most surprising songs at auditions. He is 13 and picks songs I am shocked he even knows. Never mind just knowing the songs though, this kid can move me with how he sings the craziest of lyrics. Last year he managed to make me cry singing "I Believe I Can Fly." This weekend, he gave me chills by singing "Never Gonna Give You Up" by Rick Astley. Seriously? I got totally RickRoll'D.

I do love this music video. It is random, funny, and completely innocent. That darling Rick Astley and his arms moving side to side? Quality dancing, right there. Now imagine a 13 year old boy auditioning for a musical by singing this song. And he's not just mumbling the words in an embarrassed fashion- this student GOES FOR IT, and I had goosebumps over "Never Gonna Give You Up." 

Best audition weekend ever.

highlights

Oh my goodness, oh my goodness. This was a weekend to remember. I have witnessed interesting auditions in the past, but the last three days contained three of the craziest audition experiences I have had yet. Here they are, in all their glory:

• FRIDAY:
• It was towards the end of the audition day, and we were with our final young group- about 10 children, all under 8 years old. The last one to sing was a tiny girl with short, blond hair and big, round glasses. She spoke quickly, in a typically high little girl voice. She asked if she could sing a song she wrote called "When The Stars Fall, Catch Them." Then, she started singing. It was the lowest, swoopy-est sound I have ever heard, and I wish we had it on tape because I can't possible imitate it justly. Incredible.
• SATURDAY:
• It was a small audition group, just 4 kids and only one boy, who looked like a "My Buddy" doll from the 1980s. He was clad in a suit, with no shirt underneath. That's right, he was bearing his little 6 year old chest like a true player. Half way through the audition, right after singing an over-the-top, dramatic rendition of "There's a Hole in My Bucket," this little boy exclaimed "now would be a good time for me to show you my costume!" With that, he whipped off his suit coat and began undoing his pants. He flipped off his shoes, tore off his socks and tied a red tea towel around his waist. "Men wear skirts where Aladdin is from." 
• SUNDAY:
• It was a sham-wow of a day. Paperwork was left at Saturday's location causing confusion and quick thinking, last minute changes. We had 20 people who were not signed up for an audition show up in the first 20 minutes, along with the scheduled 15. The space was crowded. My staff was overwhelmed. Children were picking up on the crazy vibes and getting more mischievous by the moment. Then a crazy- legitimately nuts- mother LOST IT for no logical reason. I'm talking yelling at my face, mere inches from my nose, making quite a scene. All with her 6 year old daughter sitting quietly by. She finally left- was escorted out of the building by police- and other parents apologized that they didn't have a drink ("or a whole bottle!") to give me. 

Never had I ever had a child strip down to his underwear during an audition. Never had I ever had a parent escorted from auditions by police (rehearsal, yes- but not auditions). My oh my. What a weekend.

persistence and grace

Auditions begin today for the Spring production I'm directing. I'm excited. It is already seeming as if it will be different than I originally intended, but I'm thankful for the opportunity to trust and improvise. At some point I just want to stop digging in my heels every time something goes other than planned. I'm sick of sore heels. I want to enjoy opportunities as they are, not as my expectations think they ought to be.

A darling thing happened yesterday in the midst of audition preparations. Parents call or email to set up auditions for their children, and as I was checking voice mail yesterday I got a particularly amusing message. It was at least 5 minutes long and from a grandmother with a thick, sophisticated accent. I could hear the granddaughter in the background, growing ever more embarrassed by the moment. The grandmother spoke very articulately about wanting to talk to me and learn more about our theatre programming. She also spend several minutes trying to interpret her granddaughter's email address until finally giving up- "I can't read her handwriting. I'm sorry about this."

Then, last night I received an email from said grandmother: "Right now you are probably rolling your eyes, while mumbling..'not her again' ! ... My  13 year old grand daughter (who by now is thoroughly embarassed for her 'grandmothers way of doing things') is interested in auditioning..."

I loved this entire exchange, and I told the grandmother so in my response email. I am thankful to see students with families and extended families willing to leave 5 minute long messages just to get their child signed up for a theatre audition. I'm thankful for this grandmother demonstrating, in this simple, small way, that one can graciously accept a shift in plans. It was obvious she hadn't planned to leave a message. It was clear she is not well acquainted with email. Still, she persisted.

Here's to persistance, my friends. Happy Friday.

a thinking, contributing member of society

I had a hilarious experience last weekend. I had just performed Mzungu Memoirs, my one-woman show about how a cross-cultural experience can affect one's perspective on one's own culture and worldview. It's a memoir about my semester abroad in Uganda and Rwanda and in it I ask questions of injustice and discuss the realities of genocide, while also laughing through the inevitably ridiculous details of cross-cultural misunderstandings. Needless to say, it is a rather reflective piece. It's a memoir for goodness sake.

So, I was stunned when an audience member raised her hand during the Q&A and said something to the extent of "was is weird to be in East Africa, as a theatre person, and have to, like, think about things? To have to, like, think seriously?"

Huh?

I immediately realized that it didn't matter what I performed to this audience member. It didn't matter if it was about Descartes or if I tap-danced to 1950s musical numbers. She heard "theatre" and assumed I was a non-thinking fluff.

Of course I didn't miss the chance to unleash a mini-lecture of how theatre is used- every day, all over the world- as a tool to fight human rights abuses. She got an overly smiley response about the role of theatre in Rwanda post-genocide and Uganda post-colonization. She heard about how theatre fought apartheid in South Africa and dictatorships in South America. The sad thing is, I don't know if she believed me. She still had the same tilt-of-her-head confusion at the concept of me as simultaneously a "theatre person" and a thinking, contributing member of society.

We're not all tap-dancing, jazz hands waving, lunatics! I swear! I may have pajama pants that say DRAMA QUEEN on them, but they are mostly facetious.

PS: Speaking of human rights- a professor showed this in class on Wednesday night and I loved it:

innocent things

I love my Human Rights in Theatre class. I love that it's already getting to me. Getting under my skin. Making me cry when I hear a powerful song. Challenging me to open my eyes and heart to injustice. It's hard though. It's uncomfortable. I'm already a little achey, and we're only 3 plays in. I have lots more to face this semester and it is going to be a steady stream of heart-wrending.

So, I'm thankful for moments of peace. Moments when a quiet day in the hospital seems like a vacation from it all. Jake's treatment yesterday provided a day to sit in the midst of florescent lighting, beeping monitors, and IVs and eat a donut. That donut was good and sugary and left crumbs on my lap. Sugar and crumbs are such lovely, innocent things. What a relief.

PS: No V-Day post for me today. I just don't have it in me, what with human rights abuses on the brain, you know? Maybe I'll have some bragging to do about my hubby and the flowers and such tomorrow? We'll see...

we make plans

Yesterday I purchased the rights for our Spring production. It reminded me of a year ago, when I thought I was going to direct Grease in the Spring. Hah. That didn't happen. Despite applications and charts and long emails and phone calls, we did not get permission to produce the show. I don't know why and I still wonder if I'm going to hear- out of the blue- that, oh now you can do Grease. Maybe I'll have a chance to turn them down and say, "no! I don't want to produce it now! I wanted to produce it in 2011!"

[deep breath]

We make plans. Last Spring I made marketing materials and prepped the website. I let it leak to our participants that we were *definitely* doing Grease. They were thrilled. Kids knew what characters they were auditioning for. Our costume team was gearing up to make poodle skirts and T-bird jackets. But it didn't happen. Samuel French and the estate that owns Grease never got back to us. We waited two months to hear, and finally couldn't wait anymore. We did Seussical instead. It was a roaring success.

I've got these big ideas and plans for my life. I have grand schemes for 2012, 2013 and beyond. But, there are outside factors; things outside my control. Planning is often so futile. Just a year later, I laugh thinking about how hard I pushed for Grease to happen, even though it wasn't meant to be. I wonder how hard we'll laugh further down the road...

This isn't to say "dreaming is naive and no matter how you push, life will happen as it happens." I persist in dreaming. I reread Antigone this week and fell in love with the title character all over again. I love how pigheaded and blindly determined she is. I love that an insult used against her is: "You're in love with what's impossible!" Of course I am! What's more worth seeking and believing in than the impossible?

thoughtful thoughts / 4

That's my niece. She tells a good story. No wonder, really. We have a family full of storytellers. My mom is one by trade, hired by schools or events to tell- more like act, sing, and explore- folk stories. My sister will have a children's book published one of these days. My brother is a journalist, writing of the world around him. My dad is a pastor, sharing stories found in a very old, rather well known volume called The Bible.

Just as we are so often defined by our families, we are also defined by our words. The words we say affect, move and shake us. That's why I love this Anne Bogart quote. I love it so much, its worth repeating: I know that the narratives that I choose in life determine the sort of life that I live...I create who I am with the stories I tell.

Happy Friday, friends. Happy storytelling.