proof

the cast party was tonight and we were all {mostly all} there. and still, the bitter side of the bitter-sweet ending i faced this week has yet to eclipse the steady momentum forward and i'm beginning to hope that maybe it won't. yes, i am sorry to say goodbye to the project, sorry to not slug myself up four flights of stairs after a long day at work to playplayplay, sorry not to stretch myself into new shapes and spaces, and sorry not to be a part of a beautifully tight-knit family of fellow creators on a project so much bigger than any one person.

but more so than i would have thought possible, i am just calmly moving forward, grateful for all that proof was for me, accepting it for what it was and wasn't, and greatly anticipating the next phase of my life that will probably shock the hell out of me as much as this past year has.

segue: i had a lovely night last thursday night. went out to see a friend, guide and art mentor perform his music. the last time i had seen him was in the beginning of september at wedding camp and at the end of the show as we sat down in the soft gloom of the columbia city theater and i gave a list of the things {tangential of course} that had happened since i saw him on labor day weekend:

ran a half marathon
saw bon iver
started a theater company
rehearsed a role
saw portishead
ran a successful kickstarter campaign
ran an 8 show performance run
booked a flight to europe

and i managed to both work and sleep somewhere in there. sometimes.

so let me breathe a second and tell you about the show.

it was hard. it was hard. it was very hard. for almost the entire show, maybe even as far as through the last show, all i could see in the role was the work i had yet to do: the work i knew in my heart how to do but couldn't let myself sit down, focus and explore. yes, i'm talking about that nebulous thing called the actor's homework and it's what i spent 9 months learning how to do and in those 9 months, i did it very well. despite the fact that i finished meisner almost two and a half years ago, i have a good memory and know exactly how to get to those tough, hard to crack places inside myself, but frustratingly, for most of this run, i wouldn't let myself go there. the gatekeeper, that voice of paralyzing self-criticism was just too. damn. strong.

which isn't to say i didn't have moments of progress. usually they were out on a run around greenlake. for almost two months i was the crazy girl, face contorted into some sort of expression at odds with my steady pace, often enough in tears or just about in tears as i made paths into the places catherine needed to feel, created memories and made discoveries.

i know i wasn't able to bring all the rawness i could create in myself to the stage, i know i wasn't able to find and live certain key experiences she had as well as i know i am capable of, but this is also something very important i realized this week: this role, as lovely and beautiful and challenging and seemingly perfect as it was, this role did not have to be a standing-ovation-hot-damn-give-this-girl-an-oscar-already role. it was simply a start – a milestone on the path i'm walking. a milestone to mark that i am doing something i have wanted to do for decades – my whole life really – and the important thing for me was merely to start and learn as much about myself as an actor as i possibly could. and i learned a lot. apart from the running, i also learned music is a huge key for me as well as sitting down and writing three pages of free association writing before getting any work done. bypass the gatekeeper. tap into the source and a sense of free flow. find that ideal, relaxed space of creation.

and after all that, also {hopefully} learn to extend as much grace to myself as i possibly can along the way and through the aftermath. and here i am, a week into the aftermath, still trying to process it all.

a significant part of the letting go process has come from a few particular voices that have given me more words beyond you were awesome {which are valid and kind but generally unhelpful in that same way i like it was frowned upon in critiques in art school}. it started with my sister's response to the play. she came to see the play on closing night on a rare night away from her daughter, my 4 month old niece, rosie. i know several aspects of the story would hit home for her, in fact had been aware of the parallels during my own acting homework, but was somehow still unprepared for how deeply she was moved. and not just by the story, which, in and of itself, was almost too perfect for her, but also by me, as an actor. on that night she realized that acting isn't just playing pretend and that there is a deep and subtle art and vulnerability that opened an entirely new avenue of understanding and communication between the two of us. so we just stood there, hugging and crying together, resonating in the impact we were having on each other, in tears in front of the rest of my family and the lingering crowd of closing night. and here i was in the middle of the cathartic, two spirits connecting, transcendant experience i hope to create on a broader, more universal scale as i move more and more into my art.

the next day i was able to spend a little time at her house further absorbing her experience. in her excitement, she reflected back to me her understanding of the story, her perception of catherine, and by default showing just how invested in catherine's story she felt. what was perhaps the most satisfying was to hear all the small things i had realized or decided early on in the creative process that i thought i had somehow neglected to bring to the part were actually there all along without me having to force anything. catherine quite literally had a life of her own, will continue to do so in our memories, and even through she came into being through my imperfect instrument, it was still one capable of creating something here.

and i guess i'm trying to say that somewhere between my sister's closing night response and her reflection back to me the next day, i have oh so slowly worked toward the realization that i did in fact accomplish something here. on this first show, in this first role, i moved someone as deeply as i have been moved standing in front of thom yorke and i am grateful and i am humbled even if it's just one person.

so all along, the desire for some sort of proof that this is the right path, that i am capable and talented as an actor, all those reassurances that i have sought my whole life about my path as an actor and my deep, scary desire to be an actor, they are all for naught.

i feel the lines i give toward the end are fitting:

catherine: ...all that stuff you just decided with your buddies, it's just evidence, it doesn't finish the job. it doesn't prove anything.
hal: so what would?
catherine: nothing. you should have trusted me.


so i have to look forward, not asking for any more proof in one direction or another, eyes forward, spirit humble and vulnerable and revealed and a trust that i am headed in the right direction, wherever that might be.


trust. yes. you are the key.