I'm All A'Itch
I've been overly garrulous the last few days. Yesterday I responded to a couple E-mails with too much jabber. Okay, they were people I like so it was not an onerous task, but I can't help thinking I got too blabby making them feel there was just too much to respond too. In the evening I had dinner at the Lavy's, who are Akropolis. I had a wonderful time, and luckily they were very talkative too. Still I think I was gabby to the point of inanity. I like telling stories.
I was reading blogs this morning, and it hit me. Many, I think most of my friends and close friends are starting new journeys or making big turns in their journeys. I realized that is making me slightly tense at some level. One of those dichotomies of life I enjoy. I am excited and somehow gratified by the changing landscape. Things are changing, and it makes things less knowable. I love and fear the change. It makes me nervous, and I talk when I'm nervous.
I've talked earlier of Gregory preparing to leave for his MFA program at Rutgers, Steve and Paula getting married and thinking of moving for something similar or just a better or new area for the pursuit of their art. A lot of my other friends are contemplating moving or making drastic changes in their lives. Hell, I am too. As I've mentioned before I love it, and the dynamic nature of friendships. I hadn't realized it was causing me any stress. I'm glad it does, and glad I recognized it. It makes me feel. Feel human.
The analytical side of my mind, that simpering bastard, asked, "Well, which means more? Art or friends?" I quickly realized something new. It is an utterly ridiculous question. It is akin to asking, "Well which do you like best? The color of an apple or the taste of a pear?" They are related, but it is a nonsensical question. Yet I ask myself. (It didn't stop me from picking a pear from the fridge either.) Somehow asking that question also implies I should attach more importance to one at the expense of the other. Again a ridiculous question. Utterly self-destructive too. To give up art would close off my friendships, and sacrificing friendships would poison my artistic endeavours.
Frienships are cyclical. I knew that on the last day of Meisner last year, after the guests and spectators had left that those friends were at the end of a cycle. We started, but never really stayed in touch. I'm one of the nudges who sends out the occasional note to everybody without expecting a response. Maybe that is why I am one of the ones who does that. I don't expect a response, don't worry about making a fool of myself, so I'm not very disappointed when I don't hear back. I expect there are some I will never see again, the cycle can be longer than a lifespan. Some I will probably be close to again later. It will unfold when it is time.
Art is cyclical for me as well. I've not done much writing for nearly a year. Just the occasional bit to keep me in the habit, and here. I don't consider this a waste or a squandering of writing energy, rather a way to keep me centered and comfortable with putting my thoughts down. If I didn't journal during slack times it would be more difficult to start back in on simmering projects. I've not been on the boards for a few months. That's the breaks. (I know, pad pun.) I'm getting back into it with a renewed enthusiasm, and a resolution to be less haphazard in my process. We'll see.
Come, my friends.
T'is not to late to seek a newer world. (ll 56-7)
Maybe there is a reason beyond gifting my father Ulysses appeals to me right now.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. (ll 44-5)
I want to be on that ship. I may not be old, and if my parent's families are any indication I will not be for a long time. But I weary of comfort like Ulysses. Gloom. I love the way Tennyson uses that word, as a beckoning. I am called by something I vaguely perceive, my very own dark, broad seas. I am in training right now, and my struggle at the moment is to realize when my training is enough to board the ship. Should I tarry too long I will miss it out of habit.
Today I am giving up my cane. I used the cane to keep from forming a habitual limp, now it is becoming a habit in itself. Actually I started a little early, when I left work for the Lavy's last night. It is said itching is a sign of healing, which means I must be healing in body, mind, and soul. I'm restless physically and emotionally, and in a spiritual searching mode. I'm wondering if breaking my leg changed more than my eating habits. The support from loved ones, friends and family, overwhelmed as much as the pain. The first couple weeks were pretty difficult. Not only the pain, but the forced idleness, once my lifestyle, was also devastating. I recognized it at the time, knew I would adjust even if the pain persisted, but it was frightening. Sentimental memories are not always good. I do not want to live like that again, in fact I don't think I could. It is fearful to think on just the same. Ironic it was an undefined fear that kept me trapped in that place for so long.
I have mentioned my desire to pursue an MFA program here, and with friends and family. I've toyed with the idea, and only started thinking of it seriously in the last month or two. During that old lifestyle of habitual idleness, when I had goals like that I would never think of airing them. What if I failed? What if I changed my mind? When I ask myself those old analytical questions I answer, "So, analytical bastard boy, what's your point?" I know the old fear was people would think less of me if I didn't follow through. I remember, but I simply don't think that way now. Now, I can't imagine not bouncing ideas around with my friends and family. Get a feel for them, feel the texture and the reality of them. Get support in the pursuit and frustrations encountered along the way.
It sounds easy, but it was hard for me to learn to drop those who were not supportive. Why my joys threatened certain friends and relatives is a mystery to me, and that is fine. It's not my place to fix them, even if they want fixing. As expected, not a one of them want fixing, they simply want everyone around them to be fixed. Why were they hard to drop? I've no idea, just a suspicion that it somehow felt like leaving something undone when I didn't live up to their peculiar ideals. I say just a suspicion, because when I look back I can't fathom the good in their expectations or why I accepted them.
Most of my baggage is shed, I think. I know I'll keep finding more things to purge, burdens physical, emtional, and spiritual which are so habitual they still escape my inward search. Maybe I won't apply for an MFA program in two years, but the path which leads that way will certainly take me somewhere. Inertia is the one thing which can kill my soul. It seems everyone has been versing lately...
Itching, itch, Itching
Scratching, soothing, itching, more.
Satisfying urge.
At last the itch scratched
The world opens wide, always.
New itch to savor.
Hello, you're new here
No you've always been right here?
Well, how do you do?
Jennifer asked me what I got out of the mask class last night. I don't know that I'd really thought about it since I blogged about it in December. The pivotal item for me remains that I was able to create a compelling character using only physicality, which made people laugh uproariously. It wasn't the laughter, it was that I was able to do it without relying on self deprecating humor about my size. I still enjoy self deprecating humor, which I use to allow me to be honest with myself. The shock and epiphany was that I could use my body to communicate so effectively. I credit Meisner with giving me a boldness to try things, and Neutral Mask with opening up a whole new way to communicate on stage.
Thinking back on that relatively recent epiphany brought things into focus. An awareness of change and direction in myself, my environment, and in the people I care about most. I feel like I'm having a personal spiritual awakening of the same sort. I'm not unaware I'm once again garrulous today. I like the irony. Exploring my uneasiness and seeing where it takes me. My social and spiritual environs are in upheaval, and realizing that has brought both happy anticipation and calmness. You figure that one out. I'm going to go do some of the chores I've been putting off.
I was reading blogs this morning, and it hit me. Many, I think most of my friends and close friends are starting new journeys or making big turns in their journeys. I realized that is making me slightly tense at some level. One of those dichotomies of life I enjoy. I am excited and somehow gratified by the changing landscape. Things are changing, and it makes things less knowable. I love and fear the change. It makes me nervous, and I talk when I'm nervous.
I've talked earlier of Gregory preparing to leave for his MFA program at Rutgers, Steve and Paula getting married and thinking of moving for something similar or just a better or new area for the pursuit of their art. A lot of my other friends are contemplating moving or making drastic changes in their lives. Hell, I am too. As I've mentioned before I love it, and the dynamic nature of friendships. I hadn't realized it was causing me any stress. I'm glad it does, and glad I recognized it. It makes me feel. Feel human.
The analytical side of my mind, that simpering bastard, asked, "Well, which means more? Art or friends?" I quickly realized something new. It is an utterly ridiculous question. It is akin to asking, "Well which do you like best? The color of an apple or the taste of a pear?" They are related, but it is a nonsensical question. Yet I ask myself. (It didn't stop me from picking a pear from the fridge either.) Somehow asking that question also implies I should attach more importance to one at the expense of the other. Again a ridiculous question. Utterly self-destructive too. To give up art would close off my friendships, and sacrificing friendships would poison my artistic endeavours.
Frienships are cyclical. I knew that on the last day of Meisner last year, after the guests and spectators had left that those friends were at the end of a cycle. We started, but never really stayed in touch. I'm one of the nudges who sends out the occasional note to everybody without expecting a response. Maybe that is why I am one of the ones who does that. I don't expect a response, don't worry about making a fool of myself, so I'm not very disappointed when I don't hear back. I expect there are some I will never see again, the cycle can be longer than a lifespan. Some I will probably be close to again later. It will unfold when it is time.
Art is cyclical for me as well. I've not done much writing for nearly a year. Just the occasional bit to keep me in the habit, and here. I don't consider this a waste or a squandering of writing energy, rather a way to keep me centered and comfortable with putting my thoughts down. If I didn't journal during slack times it would be more difficult to start back in on simmering projects. I've not been on the boards for a few months. That's the breaks. (I know, pad pun.) I'm getting back into it with a renewed enthusiasm, and a resolution to be less haphazard in my process. We'll see.
Come, my friends.
T'is not to late to seek a newer world. (ll 56-7)
Maybe there is a reason beyond gifting my father Ulysses appeals to me right now.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. (ll 44-5)
I want to be on that ship. I may not be old, and if my parent's families are any indication I will not be for a long time. But I weary of comfort like Ulysses. Gloom. I love the way Tennyson uses that word, as a beckoning. I am called by something I vaguely perceive, my very own dark, broad seas. I am in training right now, and my struggle at the moment is to realize when my training is enough to board the ship. Should I tarry too long I will miss it out of habit.
Today I am giving up my cane. I used the cane to keep from forming a habitual limp, now it is becoming a habit in itself. Actually I started a little early, when I left work for the Lavy's last night. It is said itching is a sign of healing, which means I must be healing in body, mind, and soul. I'm restless physically and emotionally, and in a spiritual searching mode. I'm wondering if breaking my leg changed more than my eating habits. The support from loved ones, friends and family, overwhelmed as much as the pain. The first couple weeks were pretty difficult. Not only the pain, but the forced idleness, once my lifestyle, was also devastating. I recognized it at the time, knew I would adjust even if the pain persisted, but it was frightening. Sentimental memories are not always good. I do not want to live like that again, in fact I don't think I could. It is fearful to think on just the same. Ironic it was an undefined fear that kept me trapped in that place for so long.
I have mentioned my desire to pursue an MFA program here, and with friends and family. I've toyed with the idea, and only started thinking of it seriously in the last month or two. During that old lifestyle of habitual idleness, when I had goals like that I would never think of airing them. What if I failed? What if I changed my mind? When I ask myself those old analytical questions I answer, "So, analytical bastard boy, what's your point?" I know the old fear was people would think less of me if I didn't follow through. I remember, but I simply don't think that way now. Now, I can't imagine not bouncing ideas around with my friends and family. Get a feel for them, feel the texture and the reality of them. Get support in the pursuit and frustrations encountered along the way.
It sounds easy, but it was hard for me to learn to drop those who were not supportive. Why my joys threatened certain friends and relatives is a mystery to me, and that is fine. It's not my place to fix them, even if they want fixing. As expected, not a one of them want fixing, they simply want everyone around them to be fixed. Why were they hard to drop? I've no idea, just a suspicion that it somehow felt like leaving something undone when I didn't live up to their peculiar ideals. I say just a suspicion, because when I look back I can't fathom the good in their expectations or why I accepted them.
Most of my baggage is shed, I think. I know I'll keep finding more things to purge, burdens physical, emtional, and spiritual which are so habitual they still escape my inward search. Maybe I won't apply for an MFA program in two years, but the path which leads that way will certainly take me somewhere. Inertia is the one thing which can kill my soul. It seems everyone has been versing lately...
Itching, itch, Itching
Scratching, soothing, itching, more.
Satisfying urge.
At last the itch scratched
The world opens wide, always.
New itch to savor.
Hello, you're new here
No you've always been right here?
Well, how do you do?
Jennifer asked me what I got out of the mask class last night. I don't know that I'd really thought about it since I blogged about it in December. The pivotal item for me remains that I was able to create a compelling character using only physicality, which made people laugh uproariously. It wasn't the laughter, it was that I was able to do it without relying on self deprecating humor about my size. I still enjoy self deprecating humor, which I use to allow me to be honest with myself. The shock and epiphany was that I could use my body to communicate so effectively. I credit Meisner with giving me a boldness to try things, and Neutral Mask with opening up a whole new way to communicate on stage.
Thinking back on that relatively recent epiphany brought things into focus. An awareness of change and direction in myself, my environment, and in the people I care about most. I feel like I'm having a personal spiritual awakening of the same sort. I'm not unaware I'm once again garrulous today. I like the irony. Exploring my uneasiness and seeing where it takes me. My social and spiritual environs are in upheaval, and realizing that has brought both happy anticipation and calmness. You figure that one out. I'm going to go do some of the chores I've been putting off.
1 Comments:
I love this post. I read it to Shawn while I was reading it. The lines about friends and skelatives who want you to fit into their ideals resonated with me.
Shawn and I are in New York right now. We're thinking about taking in a show on Tuesday, if we have the time. You'll be part of those thoughts that evening.
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