Smelling The Roses
I washed the blood spots off my hands a few minutes ago.
I did some slow tens in the field across the street from my house, as discussed in the last post's comments. For those less familiar with them than I, it is walking very, very slowly trying to keep your center/abdomen moving at a constant speed, often with your upper body taking on static shapes. For those versed in Suzuki training, forgive my errors and simplification. Even with my understanding it is meditative.
For me the first thing is to give up expectations, and letting things hit me from the outside. Basically shutting of the internal (or infernal) dialogue. On the way over I wondered if my leg would cause problems, then I wondered about the mosquitoes. The bugs were the challenge, but I simply let them alter my upper body shape when I needed to slap them to keep me from dropping out. Hence the need to get out the damned spots. That and the need to remember to keep my center of weight low occupied me as I remembered what to do and tuned out the frivolous.
Last night I found I tended to spontaneously move with my palms facing outward, hungrily inviting the world in and pushing my awareness out. Every time theatre entered my thoughts I felt the warm expanding sensation in my chest. Yearning and deep satisfaction rolled into one. It is what theatre means to me. It is vital to remember, because I tend to get caught up in the bustle of a busy schedule. No sense being constantly busy if you don't quite know why.
My hesitation in immediately accepting the ETI position is bizarre. After giving my left brain exclusive control for some forty years, I made a conscious decision to give it a voice and look at things logically as I've been so focused on the right brain the last few years with my artistic pursuits. It took me half a lifetime to realize I'm one of those unusual people who are not predominately left or right brain centric. I don't want to be unbalanced again.
I want to do ETI. It is more important to me than advancing my day job, though I'll do my damnedest to hold on to it for a few more years. Point 1. I find joy and fulfillment in exploring art, especially when it challenges and scares me. Point 2. The fulfillment I experienced in the ensemble (Meisner) last year is something I crave. Point 3. My chest aches joyfully when I attempt slow tens while being eaten by mosquitoes and contemplating art. Point 4. During the same exercise I looked at the beauty in the dusk sky and that which I've been pursuing on stage. The shallow pseudo-joy of what I can buy thanks to my day job evaporates. Joy is in the relationships, strife, and heavens. The very things which are celebrated in art and assiduously denied and destroyed in a cubicle or office. Point 5. The list goes on, and my left brain is disappointed I'm stopping so soon.
Logic likes to tote itself. The items above are all important but small. There are big items. Like those who commented via several E-mail threads and comments here. A network of friends and acquaintances I have as a result of art. That is important. Sometimes doing what you know to be right is the hardest thing in the world to do, seemingly for no more reason than it being right. Much more so when it is something for yourself.
Now for a big parent plug. Dad and Joyce, my stepmother, have been incredibly supportive. It is an unquantifiable comfort. My logical left brain was completely mollified by them. They love and care for me as deeply as I do them. They have been as excited and anticipatory as I the last couple weeks. If they thought I was headed for certain disaster they wouldn't have been so excited. They attend theatre regularly, have seen everything I've been in when they are in town, and have worked it themselves in school and community theatres. Our relationship, their life experience, and appreciation of the arts and the risk makes that a very solid recommendation which satisfies my left brain.
Tomorrow morning I will call Freehold and make the commitment. [Well, I did so after writing this entry, but before I edited and posted it.]
I did some slow tens in the field across the street from my house, as discussed in the last post's comments. For those less familiar with them than I, it is walking very, very slowly trying to keep your center/abdomen moving at a constant speed, often with your upper body taking on static shapes. For those versed in Suzuki training, forgive my errors and simplification. Even with my understanding it is meditative.
For me the first thing is to give up expectations, and letting things hit me from the outside. Basically shutting of the internal (or infernal) dialogue. On the way over I wondered if my leg would cause problems, then I wondered about the mosquitoes. The bugs were the challenge, but I simply let them alter my upper body shape when I needed to slap them to keep me from dropping out. Hence the need to get out the damned spots. That and the need to remember to keep my center of weight low occupied me as I remembered what to do and tuned out the frivolous.
Last night I found I tended to spontaneously move with my palms facing outward, hungrily inviting the world in and pushing my awareness out. Every time theatre entered my thoughts I felt the warm expanding sensation in my chest. Yearning and deep satisfaction rolled into one. It is what theatre means to me. It is vital to remember, because I tend to get caught up in the bustle of a busy schedule. No sense being constantly busy if you don't quite know why.
My hesitation in immediately accepting the ETI position is bizarre. After giving my left brain exclusive control for some forty years, I made a conscious decision to give it a voice and look at things logically as I've been so focused on the right brain the last few years with my artistic pursuits. It took me half a lifetime to realize I'm one of those unusual people who are not predominately left or right brain centric. I don't want to be unbalanced again.
I want to do ETI. It is more important to me than advancing my day job, though I'll do my damnedest to hold on to it for a few more years. Point 1. I find joy and fulfillment in exploring art, especially when it challenges and scares me. Point 2. The fulfillment I experienced in the ensemble (Meisner) last year is something I crave. Point 3. My chest aches joyfully when I attempt slow tens while being eaten by mosquitoes and contemplating art. Point 4. During the same exercise I looked at the beauty in the dusk sky and that which I've been pursuing on stage. The shallow pseudo-joy of what I can buy thanks to my day job evaporates. Joy is in the relationships, strife, and heavens. The very things which are celebrated in art and assiduously denied and destroyed in a cubicle or office. Point 5. The list goes on, and my left brain is disappointed I'm stopping so soon.
Logic likes to tote itself. The items above are all important but small. There are big items. Like those who commented via several E-mail threads and comments here. A network of friends and acquaintances I have as a result of art. That is important. Sometimes doing what you know to be right is the hardest thing in the world to do, seemingly for no more reason than it being right. Much more so when it is something for yourself.
Now for a big parent plug. Dad and Joyce, my stepmother, have been incredibly supportive. It is an unquantifiable comfort. My logical left brain was completely mollified by them. They love and care for me as deeply as I do them. They have been as excited and anticipatory as I the last couple weeks. If they thought I was headed for certain disaster they wouldn't have been so excited. They attend theatre regularly, have seen everything I've been in when they are in town, and have worked it themselves in school and community theatres. Our relationship, their life experience, and appreciation of the arts and the risk makes that a very solid recommendation which satisfies my left brain.
Tomorrow morning I will call Freehold and make the commitment. [Well, I did so after writing this entry, but before I edited and posted it.]
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