Fedaykin said my blog this year has been - in a word - pathetic. Can't say I blame him for the brutally honest assessment. I have looked over the year and wondered, "Where did it go?" Events made up my year, more so than thoughts, definetely more so than strokes of inspiration or even creativity.
My writing has ceased entirely. I haven't written anything creative in...um...easily all year, perhaps longer. I haven't missed it entirely, taken up as I have been with theatrical endeavor after theatrical endeavor. Seven Brides, Drama Club, Sister's Wedding, Crucible, Pregnancy...Some of course being more theatrical than others. :)
I don't even believe I've had a creative thought that didn't have to do with positioning baby furniture, building set, arranging flowers or communicating with an actor. My kids have stopped asking me to tell them stories, because I've been so preoccupied, I've told them I can't think of any.
Is this sad? I don't know. Who is missing it, honestly? I've been VERY happy. It's not until I read past journals or meanderings of thought and see that for years my soul has been tied up in the ambition of being a true writer that I wonder what I've neglected. Maybe nothing. To everything there is a season, yes? I have seen it to be so; the Wheel Weaves as the Wheel Wills and all that.
Anyone notice my tone? It has nothing to do with the current topic, however. We've been having difficulties with my son's school. In fact, if my son's school had a face, I would punch it. I have heard and seen things quite troubling and been told that it is the way it is, and that as long as test scores over all remain high, then my son must be in need of drugs to bring him up to everyone else's speed. This is of course a very short telling of a very long and involved story.
I am surprised by my emotional reactions to this situation. Lori described me as a Mama Bear on a Facebook quiz. I did not agree with her choice in animal until two weeks ago. I have done my utmost (and succeeded) in not letting the Mama Bear rampaging inside me to leak out into reality as I've attempted to manuver and handle this situation. Instead I've been the one thing I never thought possible of myself: diplomatic. And what have I learned? Diplomacy sucks. Yeah, you heard me. Diplomacy might work if there was mutual respect between the parties. But these teachers do NOT have respect for me, nor do they respect the option that my son might be individual.
And all the while, they tell me their opinions of him and I see myself in their descriptions. I point it out and they look at me as though they were wondering how to get me on drugs, too.
I was the girl in fourth grade who, when berated by the teacher for not doing my classwork, would instead fill in the blanks thus: "If I were in charge I would: fire all the teachers in the world, especially you, you stupid dummy." Liam doesn't do that - he has a much stronger moral compass and isn't confrontational with authority. But he will ignore them if he wants to. As I grew up, I did the same things. I would open up Jurrassic Park rather than listen to my PreAlgebra teacher. I would write stories for hours on end rather than listen to the ramblings of my Biology teacher. Did I get the best grades? No. Did I even get grades that reflected my intelligence? Not even close...I bet my past teachers were just DYING for the chance to NAME my malady and drug me into submission. I guess that because that is what these teachers are looking for now.
I've illustrated some teachers/teaching situations that I ignored. Let me for a moment say a word for those who inspired me: Mrs. Georgis - 1st grade introduced me to theater and told me to use my special talents and abilities to my advantage. Mrs. Bonini told me I should write, because I had a great mind. Mrs. Harrison gave me books and let me immerse myself in them, guessing that I would learn more by doing that, than by doing what everyone else in class was. Mrs. Chady who challenged me to think bigger and more, to harness my confrontational demeanor into useful debates or to protect others. Mrs. Jensen who brought Shakespeare to my awareness, and found that I had a talent with it. Mrs. DeHart who taught despite my refusal to think within her box, and would take the time to prove her theories. She made literature come alive. Mrs. Miya who made history relevant.
Come to think of it, all the teachers who worked for me were literature and writing centered. I don't remember a single science or math teacher that clicked with my brain until college. Oh, and they allowed me to ask questions without being put out.
I learned with pictures and concepts. Memorization of facts has only been my strong suit when it comes to movies or theater or books. What is the pythagorean theorum? I don't know. Who starred in the 1954 version of Jane Eyre? That I know. I could even tell you the famous siblings of the stars and quote a few lines and explain why the film noir version did good and bad for the storytelling.
My son is like that. What I can't figure out is why the hell teachers think there's something WRONG with it. He remembers science and concept math like I remember the names and associations of performers.
Basically I'm just frustrated. In the meantime I will do what I can to teach him, since his teachers are unwilling to take the time to do so themselves. When I asked for their curriculum so I could teach him before he comes to school, they were thrilled that I would be taking over. So I guess that's what I can do, since I'm not allowed to move him to another school or even to another class.
I will teach my son, because no one else will. I guess then it's a good thing he's got me. Just as much as it's a good thing I get him. I love him more than I can say, and in a way I am grateful for this horrible situation which has thrown my love and devotion to him into great relief. I see my love now. And my son will get that chance, too; and very soon.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Now that it is over...
*Great sigh of relief*
It is time to be Sayyadina again. TheaterGeek struggled the last two weeks, seeing as Sayyadina was crowding TheaterGeek, itching to get back into action. My house has been a mess since the return from our vacation (which I still need to blog, I know). I have looked over the comparative squalor that I have been forcing my family to live in the past four weeks and felt less than great about it.
And then there was the play. Most of you got to see it. It was very good. And it was not without it's negatives. I felt friction on my soul the last two weeks especially. I hope I learned things...
As I have said, I felt that the play was important: Grand Scheme of Things Important, as a matter of fact. And there was a major part that felt it was not necessarily important for me, but for others.
Once again, I felt a brief hint of living the Law of Consecration. I had talents and understanding, my husband had the patience and passion, my mother had the connections and the space, and our actors had the time and the talent. We gave, and we took and we made something other people were willing to trade dollars for. That's pretty cool. Although, I did not take any of those dollars home for myself. No one will.
So what did I earn in exchange for my time and talents? I have satisfaction that I did something pretty good. I learned what it feels like to be completely disrespected by an actor for reasons I can't fathom. I saw a few people stretch their own abilities past what they originally believed they were capable.
And yet, I feel that the exchange was empty. Then I get the feeling that I have not been "paid" yet. I have not yet seen or received what it was originally intended that I see or receive. That's fine. I can be patient. I'm really much more excited about the upcoming child, anyway. And about going back to my home routine. I truly love taking care of my children, cooking for and caring for my husband, and going to bed on time. I love to make our home a welcome place for all. I have missed it. I knew that on the 30th of October, everything would go back to "normal." I have prepared for it. And in many ways, I folded space to get here sooner.
I'm sort of saying to myself - and to my Father - "Okay, I did it. So what was that all for?" I am just a little curious as to what the long term, Grand Scheme of Things payoff will end up being. Because I am sure I have not seen the sun go down on what this show was intended to do.
But I am ever so sleepy. And there is Trick or Treating tonight. So perhaps I should pull myself together, and draw myself up to be a mother, as I am bound by heaven to be. And my daughter needs a hug. Off I go to be Sayyadina again!!!!!!!!!
It is time to be Sayyadina again. TheaterGeek struggled the last two weeks, seeing as Sayyadina was crowding TheaterGeek, itching to get back into action. My house has been a mess since the return from our vacation (which I still need to blog, I know). I have looked over the comparative squalor that I have been forcing my family to live in the past four weeks and felt less than great about it.
And then there was the play. Most of you got to see it. It was very good. And it was not without it's negatives. I felt friction on my soul the last two weeks especially. I hope I learned things...
As I have said, I felt that the play was important: Grand Scheme of Things Important, as a matter of fact. And there was a major part that felt it was not necessarily important for me, but for others.
Once again, I felt a brief hint of living the Law of Consecration. I had talents and understanding, my husband had the patience and passion, my mother had the connections and the space, and our actors had the time and the talent. We gave, and we took and we made something other people were willing to trade dollars for. That's pretty cool. Although, I did not take any of those dollars home for myself. No one will.
So what did I earn in exchange for my time and talents? I have satisfaction that I did something pretty good. I learned what it feels like to be completely disrespected by an actor for reasons I can't fathom. I saw a few people stretch their own abilities past what they originally believed they were capable.
And yet, I feel that the exchange was empty. Then I get the feeling that I have not been "paid" yet. I have not yet seen or received what it was originally intended that I see or receive. That's fine. I can be patient. I'm really much more excited about the upcoming child, anyway. And about going back to my home routine. I truly love taking care of my children, cooking for and caring for my husband, and going to bed on time. I love to make our home a welcome place for all. I have missed it. I knew that on the 30th of October, everything would go back to "normal." I have prepared for it. And in many ways, I folded space to get here sooner.
I'm sort of saying to myself - and to my Father - "Okay, I did it. So what was that all for?" I am just a little curious as to what the long term, Grand Scheme of Things payoff will end up being. Because I am sure I have not seen the sun go down on what this show was intended to do.
But I am ever so sleepy. And there is Trick or Treating tonight. So perhaps I should pull myself together, and draw myself up to be a mother, as I am bound by heaven to be. And my daughter needs a hug. Off I go to be Sayyadina again!!!!!!!!!
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Our current endeavor
Athur Miller's
THE CRUCIBLE
A few months ago I was in my mother's office and we were talking about what was next for Lights Up!, her theater troupe. We threw out ideas like "Little Women" around Christmas-time, a big musical like Suessical for the spring, or - hey! - wouldn't it be cool to do "The Crucible" around Halloween?!
Ya know, a play about witches and witch trials the week before we all go Happy Haunting?! That would be awesome! And ya know what else? Muad'Dib knows a lot about it. He did a scene from it in High School (or something) and it's, like, one of his favorite plays!
We're just riffing, right?
Two weeks later, Mom asks if I'm really going to do it. I have this feeling...so I say, "I'll run it past the husband and see what he says."
So then in the car I turn to my hunny and say, "Yeah, and Mom and I were talking and we mentioned how cool it would be to do The Crucible around Halloween."
His response was foresee-able: "We're going on vacation three weeks before Halloween; and we did say that we were going to take a theater break. I don't think we should do it."
"Okay. I see that. I'll tell Mom."
But then...a few minutes later..."But if we DID do it, we'd do it like this - "
Before I really grasped what was happening, Muad'Dib was all fired up and on board.
Well, then I thought, "There's no way we'll get the theater for those dates... lets just go talk to the Station."
I was right, there was no time available for us in the theater. It seemed like Crucible was dead.
Then the lady in charged asked us what the play was about.
I explained that it was a play set in 1692, following the Salem witch trails, with themes on morality, fear, infidelity, hysteria and goodness.
She got SO excited and basically said, "We have to find a place to put this on!"
All said and done, we decided on Gallery 51. To me, it looked small. To my mom and the lady, it seemed perfect. An intimate setting for an intense play.
Well, then it seemed unlikely that we could get a talented, age appropriate cast to show up for auditions.
Still, we set up auditions and held them.
Nine people came. Nine, for a cast that required at least 18 people.
We told those who did come that we didn't have enough. If they had any friends interested, we'd hold another set of audition/callbacks two days later. If we didn't have a cast by then, we'd call it off.
When Muad'Dib asked me if it was going to happen...I had a feeling. Yes, it was going to happen.
The next audition rolled around. Not only did we get enough people, we got enough TALENTED, AGE APPROPRIATE people to fill the cast - including Shematite and Mayflower.
We have blocked the play in about three weeks. We will go on a vacation for two, then come back and rehearse three weeks. Then we will open.
This is the story. All of these seemingly impossible things have come together to form what is already an impressive endeavor. I hope you'll all plan to come see it.
We will open with a noon matinee on October 23, and then have further performances at 7:30pm October 25 - 29.
Tickets are $10.00 general admission
$7.00 students and seniors
$5.00 for students accompanied by a paying adult.
More to the summer
As it turns out, there is more to the "this is an incredible summer" than I originally thought. Okay: basic run down of the summer:
Drama Club - a variety show in the spirit of Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland but written by my brother and performed for Lights Up! when The Wizard of Oz fell through - spectacularly fell through, btw. It was great fun, but seemed to really change the game for Lights Up!, the theater troupe founded and run by my mother.
Brainstorm - while discussing the possibilities after the Drama Club, the name of a particular classic play came up.
Wedding: AJ got married. To see more, read down a few blogs.
Showtime - Jeff got a break. To see more, read a blog down.
The Crucible - the play we tossed out while brainstorming. I then tossed it out to Muad'Dib...before I knew it, we had decided to accept a directing gig for Lights Up!. We held auditions the Monday after my sister got married. We had 9 people audition. But I had a feeling that it was going to happen. And that it was going to be good. So we had callbacks. We had 13 people at callbacks. I told those present that we didn't have enough people and that if they were serious, they would spread the word. Little less than a week later, we had a full and talented cast for The Crucible. We began rehearsal.
Now, the next thing...we didn't find out until the fall...but seeing as I'm ten weeks on, it's safe to say that it happened this summer.
I am pregnant.
The big thing I kept saying about this summer - all the way back in April I was saying this - was that this summer was going to be a game changer. For every member of my family, the game has changed; and the catylist was something that happened late spring or during the summer.
Now, on the subject of pregnancy: WOO HOO!!!!!
Well...there are my disjointed thoughts on this summer. The ripples of it are still traveling to the shore, and have not yet reached their full wave magnitude. I'm just riding it out.
However, I should say that I'm a little ski-wompus. You know, reactionary in unconventional and unpredictable ways. Such as when I was in RS today and quite basically started...for lack of a better word - fighting with a friend and fellow Sister in the gospel. Yeah, I did. So: I quickly see the error of my reactions, and still - if we interact, please cut me some slack. Grumpy. Grumpy is a good word to describe it. Not sad, not angry...just grumpy. Happy! but also grumpy.
Drama Club - a variety show in the spirit of Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland but written by my brother and performed for Lights Up! when The Wizard of Oz fell through - spectacularly fell through, btw. It was great fun, but seemed to really change the game for Lights Up!, the theater troupe founded and run by my mother.
Brainstorm - while discussing the possibilities after the Drama Club, the name of a particular classic play came up.
Wedding: AJ got married. To see more, read down a few blogs.
Showtime - Jeff got a break. To see more, read a blog down.
The Crucible - the play we tossed out while brainstorming. I then tossed it out to Muad'Dib...before I knew it, we had decided to accept a directing gig for Lights Up!. We held auditions the Monday after my sister got married. We had 9 people audition. But I had a feeling that it was going to happen. And that it was going to be good. So we had callbacks. We had 13 people at callbacks. I told those present that we didn't have enough people and that if they were serious, they would spread the word. Little less than a week later, we had a full and talented cast for The Crucible. We began rehearsal.
Now, the next thing...we didn't find out until the fall...but seeing as I'm ten weeks on, it's safe to say that it happened this summer.
I am pregnant.
The big thing I kept saying about this summer - all the way back in April I was saying this - was that this summer was going to be a game changer. For every member of my family, the game has changed; and the catylist was something that happened late spring or during the summer.
Now, on the subject of pregnancy: WOO HOO!!!!!
Well...there are my disjointed thoughts on this summer. The ripples of it are still traveling to the shore, and have not yet reached their full wave magnitude. I'm just riding it out.
However, I should say that I'm a little ski-wompus. You know, reactionary in unconventional and unpredictable ways. Such as when I was in RS today and quite basically started...for lack of a better word - fighting with a friend and fellow Sister in the gospel. Yeah, I did. So: I quickly see the error of my reactions, and still - if we interact, please cut me some slack. Grumpy. Grumpy is a good word to describe it. Not sad, not angry...just grumpy. Happy! but also grumpy.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Starring my Brother . . .
Why is there a picture of Monty Python's SPAMALOT on my blog, you ask? Because if you look ever so closely at the grail, just to the right of King Arthur, you will see MY BROTHER, who will be playing Patsy in this production in Ogunquit, Maine.
You may also recognize Charles Shaunessy as the father from the series "The Nanny." He is a well known Broadway performer, as is Rachel York, who I know as Margurite from The Scarlet Pimpernel.
This is a big deal for my wonderful brother, who has been auditioning in New York for over 8 months straight, without a single sign of hope.
Then all at once, he was given a job in My Fair Lady at a regional theater. He was asked to come back to Jackson to perform as Buffalo Bill in Annie Get Your Gun; he was asked to audition for How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying in New York. He got an agent (which is much more about the agent picking you than you picking the agent.) And then, he was called - virtually out of the blue - to play the role of
Patsy in SPAMALOT.
Oh, and did I mention that he was also asked to Franki Camp? It's a five day long "audition" where he learns the music and mannerisms of Franki Vallie (you know, "Walk Like a Man?") This is awesome because Franki is the LEAD character in the Broadway production Jersey Boys, and my talented little brother is considered for such a role. It's due in large part to his VERY impressive vocal range.
I'm just so happy for him.
He has worked very hard at a very hard business. And after years of trying, learning, taking classes, getting to know people and proving to those people that he's in it for the long haul, he is getting his first big chance.
I will keep you posted with any further pictures or clips I can find online.
As I have said, this has been an INCREDIBLE summer for the Stevens Family.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
My Sister's Wedding Day
Yesterday Auntie became Mrs. Bredthaur. Or, as her previous students said it, "Mrs. Scottie Hottie."
Here are some pictures Muad'Dib was able to take of the day's events:
Rivulet's hair in the morning.Lemur at the Temple. Please note the missing front tooth. It fell out as he slept the night before ! :)
My Little Cinderella . . .
The kids giving Muad'Dib a "real smile."
Cousins and family galore! Even Little Brother was able to come in from Maine! Can you find his laughing, smiling face?
Here Lemur shows us his future "Calvin Klein" modeling capabilities.
I was SO glad to see my Grandma! It was a surprise to us all that she made it there!
The Temple
The kids had their meltdown earlier in the day. In fact, what you see of Lemur below was just the beginning. He didn't smile for ANY of the wedding pictures until I was able to take him aside and explain to him that he wasn't a player in this production. He was a prop. He was like the stick I used as the Witch. All he needed to do was be where we told him to be and smile like he meant it.
Somehow, that's what got through to him. Everything was fine after that.
SISTER!!
Then at the reception, Muad'Dib did a photo shoot with my older brother and his darling wife.
And here are some of the Bridal Pictures I took of AJ up in Afton, Wyoming.
Most of these were displayed on the tables at the reception. But a few had a more special setting.
Wildman (my brother-in-law) made some beautiful frames which housed these pictures.
AJ had always wanted her Bridals taken on the Ranch. We both have always felt very strongly about Afton; a deep sense of home, of past connected with present and blooming with future.
This is AJ's favorite picture. "The One" as we call it. This picture will hang in her new home, forever encased in the beautiful heirloom barn-wood frame.
My sister is MARRIED!
It was SUCH an incredible day. This has been such an incredible YEAR!!!
Not only did she finish school, get her Masters Degree, and go to China, she also fell in love, had someone love her - become devoted to her! -, she got engaged to this wonderful man, and yesterday she married him. And all on the same day, she became Lucy's 'Nother Mother. I don't like saying she's the "New mother." Lucy's mother is never far. AJ is not replacing. She is adding to. And I stand in awe of her ability to be a good mother. I mean, right off the bat: jumping in on motherhood without the incubation period, without the cuddly infant years, just right in there at the Terrible Two's and into Three-hood. If anyone doesn't know the full story, I may have to share it.
For the time being, though, I'm just filled with so much love! I sobbed in the temple. I sobbed at the luncheon and I ran myself ragged during the reception to avoid sobbing. Then I watched my sister walk to her car, hand in hand with her husband and I could not keep tears of joy at bay.
Scott is wonderful! Lucy is wonderful! The day was bright and glorious and filled with all good things. I am just ever so happy for my beloved sister. I am sobbing again. How wonderful!
Friday, August 6, 2010
And what would be lost?
The late summer storm clouds are about to obscure my view of brightest star in the western sky. They have been moving in this direction for some time now, but I hoped they would spare the star. I take comfort in knowing that when the clouds pass, the star will be there. Yes, the star is above the clouds. It is above the rain and even above the sun. It has been a great marvel to look out over the valley and see lightning, clouds so dark they hide the eastern mountains in their plaque, and still to the east a sunset to take my breath away.
Thunder rolls to my left as pink ripens to deep purplish-orange on my right. I hear children gasp in wonder at the sight of a particularly impressive slash of lightning. Rain teases softly on my rooftop, plucking at leaves until it seems the trees themselves shudder with giddy anticipation. Too long they have roasted in the sun, too long relied on our piped water to sustain them, when all they truly desire is a good, hard rain.
My husband laughs in the living room, and a breeze stirs the aspen across the street. The storm draws closer. More lightning rips the sky, and I wonder at the dancing silhouettes before me. Sometimes I wonder if I am the light or the thing that blocks it.
I hear a single cricket; quite the change from the usual chorus that sings us to sleep most nights. And now even he, my solitary serenader, has fallen silent. As I write, things change. Time moves on. Clouds roil and churn overhead with a calm that belies their inner machinations.
How is it that I may see God's hand where ever I look? Not long ago I mentioned to my sister that sometimes it was hard for me to pray before bed because I felt that I had prayed so often all day that I could not imagine God wanted to hear from me more. Her answer was very much like her. She said, "It seems to me that if you see God everywhere, and thank him all day for each blessing you recognize: that is the definition of "the pure in heart.'"
I shy away from that definition, for obvious reasons. Perhaps they are only obvious to me: I dare not agree outright, because I fear the term "pure," let alone the idea of asserting that I am "pure in heart." I have worked a good deal over the past year to be actively grateful for all I see, hear, feel, learn and experience. I try, and sometimes I fail, though my failures are not stacking up too high these days, in this area.
The sunlight is nearly spent entirely. Now the lightning is even more impressive as it tears asunder the darkness that stretches over the valley. The thunder more ominous because it comes from an unseen place, echoing back and forth between the mountains.
I saw a neighbor girl outside today. She saw the rain and came out in it, just as I had. I have often joked that when the sun is out, my children are in. And when the rain comes to play, so do my children. It is true of myself. That is likely where they get the notion.
Late summer rains are some of my favorites. I remember nine summers ago now when in rehearsal for West Side Story, that it poured rain near the end of the night. I and my three best friends of the time ran into the shower headlong and danced in it. No stitch of clothing was spared. We were drenched. The rain smelled of salt and dirt. Our laughter rivaled the thunder for boisterousness. Whenever it rains in the summer, this is the memory that comes to me.
One year ago tonight, I opened as the Witch in "Into the Woods". How long ago that seems! How quickly this year has passed. Four years ago, I brought home my second child. In the rain. I remember it raining the second day Rivulet was in this world. It rained so hard that the power went out and she and I slept together in my hospital bed, as there was no nurse to retrieve her. The sound of her breathing still sooths me to sleep, as does the sound of the rain.
I am so grateful, for ever so many things. Most importantly tonight I am grateful for the advice and the permission I was given a few days ago, all of it wrapped up in one word: "Live." Not to imply that I would die...but I was in the process of putting myself and other things "on hold." Living means to be actively engaged. To enjoy, to be grateful, to experience without regret the exspendature of time. Two good men have advised me thus, and I feel it my soul that I must obey. And in the words of my favorite God Emperor, "Is not your obedience instructive?"
It is dark now, from the west to the east, the north to the south. The lightning has not subsided - nor has my desire to write - but I have perhaps run out of things to say for the time being. At least in this vein. I cannot say exactly why this has become my way: writing and expressing where once the purpose of the blog was to document and update daily happenings. Sometimes I wish it were the latter instead of the former. But then I remember that what is is, and I have a truer desire to share my thoughts and feelings than to recount the actions of my days. My actions speak of themselves, and say something different to everyone. I am the only one who can say and write MY words. If I don't, no one will.
Thunder rolls to my left as pink ripens to deep purplish-orange on my right. I hear children gasp in wonder at the sight of a particularly impressive slash of lightning. Rain teases softly on my rooftop, plucking at leaves until it seems the trees themselves shudder with giddy anticipation. Too long they have roasted in the sun, too long relied on our piped water to sustain them, when all they truly desire is a good, hard rain.
My husband laughs in the living room, and a breeze stirs the aspen across the street. The storm draws closer. More lightning rips the sky, and I wonder at the dancing silhouettes before me. Sometimes I wonder if I am the light or the thing that blocks it.
I hear a single cricket; quite the change from the usual chorus that sings us to sleep most nights. And now even he, my solitary serenader, has fallen silent. As I write, things change. Time moves on. Clouds roil and churn overhead with a calm that belies their inner machinations.
How is it that I may see God's hand where ever I look? Not long ago I mentioned to my sister that sometimes it was hard for me to pray before bed because I felt that I had prayed so often all day that I could not imagine God wanted to hear from me more. Her answer was very much like her. She said, "It seems to me that if you see God everywhere, and thank him all day for each blessing you recognize: that is the definition of "the pure in heart.'"
I shy away from that definition, for obvious reasons. Perhaps they are only obvious to me: I dare not agree outright, because I fear the term "pure," let alone the idea of asserting that I am "pure in heart." I have worked a good deal over the past year to be actively grateful for all I see, hear, feel, learn and experience. I try, and sometimes I fail, though my failures are not stacking up too high these days, in this area.
The sunlight is nearly spent entirely. Now the lightning is even more impressive as it tears asunder the darkness that stretches over the valley. The thunder more ominous because it comes from an unseen place, echoing back and forth between the mountains.
I saw a neighbor girl outside today. She saw the rain and came out in it, just as I had. I have often joked that when the sun is out, my children are in. And when the rain comes to play, so do my children. It is true of myself. That is likely where they get the notion.
Late summer rains are some of my favorites. I remember nine summers ago now when in rehearsal for West Side Story, that it poured rain near the end of the night. I and my three best friends of the time ran into the shower headlong and danced in it. No stitch of clothing was spared. We were drenched. The rain smelled of salt and dirt. Our laughter rivaled the thunder for boisterousness. Whenever it rains in the summer, this is the memory that comes to me.
One year ago tonight, I opened as the Witch in "Into the Woods". How long ago that seems! How quickly this year has passed. Four years ago, I brought home my second child. In the rain. I remember it raining the second day Rivulet was in this world. It rained so hard that the power went out and she and I slept together in my hospital bed, as there was no nurse to retrieve her. The sound of her breathing still sooths me to sleep, as does the sound of the rain.
I am so grateful, for ever so many things. Most importantly tonight I am grateful for the advice and the permission I was given a few days ago, all of it wrapped up in one word: "Live." Not to imply that I would die...but I was in the process of putting myself and other things "on hold." Living means to be actively engaged. To enjoy, to be grateful, to experience without regret the exspendature of time. Two good men have advised me thus, and I feel it my soul that I must obey. And in the words of my favorite God Emperor, "Is not your obedience instructive?"
It is dark now, from the west to the east, the north to the south. The lightning has not subsided - nor has my desire to write - but I have perhaps run out of things to say for the time being. At least in this vein. I cannot say exactly why this has become my way: writing and expressing where once the purpose of the blog was to document and update daily happenings. Sometimes I wish it were the latter instead of the former. But then I remember that what is is, and I have a truer desire to share my thoughts and feelings than to recount the actions of my days. My actions speak of themselves, and say something different to everyone. I am the only one who can say and write MY words. If I don't, no one will.
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