Transformation II - 4/29/06

Staunton, VA - Well, there went another week without writing. How time gets away from me so fast, I cannot explain. I can tell you that some of that time went towards driving home to surprise Ann Marie on her birthday, which was this past Monday. That was a complete success. I walked into her office while she was finishing up a meeting with an accrediting visitor, and I think "stunned" is perhaps the best phrase to describe the look on her face before she burst into tears. We had a nice day together, going out to lunch and then having Eric home while I made her birthday dinner. A wonderful carrot cake from her good friend Peg topped the festivities. Then back here on Tuesday.

This week's collection of shows were pretty much without incident. We had an extra morning show on Thursday, and it caused a bit of pre-show concern, as these students from Albermarle High School (which I presume is in Charlottesville) had a reputation which preceded them. Apparently there had been a spitball incident and some other rowdy behavior from this school in the past, so we were on our guard. But I thought they were a fine audience in the end. Interestingly enough, they enjoyed the music and the comedy, and when the play turned dark, they were quite hushed; it was as silent a house as we've ever had. In fact, there was one young man sitting on the stage right stools, and right after the moment where I throw Sarah to the floor and stagger away, he flinched and cried out, thinking I was going to crash into him. That's when I knew I had him. It was also nice to have a culturally diverse crown in the theatre for a change. It's a great feeling to know you did have some effect on kids from different backgrounds.

The two-show combination Wed. and Thurs, wore me out a bit, so I loosened up a bit (maybe a bit too much) on Thursday night while watching a basketball game up in 605. I've been doing a lot of computer repair lately, and I've been working on the barter system - beer for repair work. First Tyler, then Andrew, and earlier this evening, Chris. So Friday I had to take it slow, but I did manage to go out to lunch with Jessica, where we got some good hamburgers and Cajun fries at 5 Guys. It's a chain in this area that makes fresh hamburgers and fries their potatoes in peanut oil. They were quite good. I took a nap and then went to the theatre to begin the weekend of shows. Today we had a workshop called Teaching Shakespeare before our R3 matinee, but I had no workshop responsibilities. So an R3 and then a Planet this evening, which was another audience of baby boomers who had a great time. During the encore they got up and danced in the theatre, a pretty amazing sight. As I search through my memory I think there have been no other incidents of note for the week.

But now I have to backtrack a little and go to this theme of transformation (if you did not read the previous post, you might want to do that first). Last week I took a hike up in Shenandoah National Park, and it was during this hike that w few thoughts came to me. The first thought that came was how much I was enjoying the hike. The simple act of walking in the woods alone with my thoughts these days gives me a great deal of pleasure. I really think I would like to take up hiking as a hobby of sorts, with an eye towards doing the Appalachian Trail or some other major route. This particular hike I planned as a lunch hike, and when I got to Calvary Rocks, I sat and had lunch, enjoying the 360-degree view around me.

It was while I was enjoying this experience that the thought came to my mind that I would rather be doing this sort of thing more than anything I could think of at that moment. And it also occurred to me how many summers I had given up over the years to act in theatres. It was at that moment that I had that sense of transformation - that I could see a life for myself which was one other than this life. I saw it pretty clearly: a life out in nature, walking, maybe canoeing or kayaking, but one where the outdoors became dominant, not the dim backstage light of the theatre. I asked myself at that moment - what is left for me to achieve in the theatre? What's left to accomplish? And the answer came back - nothing much. At that moment it seemed to me that finally, there was nothing more I needed from the theatre itself. I have performed or directed in over 100 shows, I have now toured, I've done numerous Shakespearean roles, and I could think of nothing at all left that I was really desirous to achieve. I really don't care whether or not I get into Actor's Equity, because even if I did, it's not much good to me now. I've no intention of turning fully professional. There are still roles I'd like to play out there, yes, but somehow it no longer seems so pressing or urgent that I do so. I'd rather hike, I think. You see, it's the need that has begun to fade. And this is where the transforming process is happening. I sense other needs that have to take more prominence - like hiking, and writing.

Does this mean I would never do theatre again? No, I don't think so - but it does mean I no longer feel that urgent need to do theatre again, and if I never did anything else in theatre again, it wouldn't matter to me at all. I can see another life I can live, one a bit more introspective and quiet, one away from all the hustle and anxiety that theatre seems to produce in people. And I also feel a need to begin to do something that truly matters. When I look at the state of American theatre, I realize that it's fun, some of it is good, but little of it seems to truly matter. Perhaps by seizing the opportunity that this transforming moment is offering, I can begin to find my way to that place where I can do something that matters to me.

One thing that's critical to understand about transformation, both in the theatre game itself and in life, is that a transforming moment does not reveal the entire nature of what you're about to enter. You can only see possibilities, but it remains up to you to leap in and begin the exploration and creation of those possibilities. And amazingly enough, as I began to continue my hike, this idea was enhanced by nature itself as it presented a metaphorical journey for me. At one point in the hike I began a steep descent into a valley, I knew that the trail eventually led up to some sort of river, but I was not sure how far that was. As I got to the bottom of the valley, it was apparent that the formations around me spoke to the existence of a stream somewhere, but it looked dried up, no more than a path for rainfall or snowmelt run-off to follow. But I kept on walking, remembering that the trail map did indicate a blue line. I kept my eyes open, and finally I saw some rocks which appeared moss-covered, a sign of moisture. I went off-trail and down into the stream bed, poking about until I found a small underground stream bubbling to the surface. Within about 25 yards it became a small flowing stream, and the water was cold and refreshing on this 80-degree day. I took off my shoes at a convenient spot and sat a bit with my feet dangling in the stream. I wet my hat and put it on my head for the natural air-conditioning it provided.

I was about ready to go and return the way I came, when a fellow hiker and her dog came up the trail from the opposite end. The dog took a bit of a drink, and as she saw me soaking my feet, she mentioned there was a good swimming hole ahead. I put my socks and shoes back on and continued to follow the trail a bit more. As I did so, the stream became wider, more varied in its path, and stronger in its flow. When I came to the swimming hole, I found much more than a swimming hole; it was a beautiful canyon of rocks and trees amidst this cascading waterfall. I stood at the top of the falls, surveying the scenery around me. I had gone from a hot, dry descent into a small valley, followed a dry stream bed until I found its source, and witnessed it as it grew and expanded into this magnificent waterfall, a view I assume very few people who visit the park actually see. And there I sat for about 20 minutes, just sort of entranced in it all. Transformation does not take much to reveal itself, and often looks like nothing at all, like a dry runoff bed. But if you have the wisdom to follow where it will take you, the payoff can be well worth the journey.

It would have been better has I been able to follow the trail in its circuitous path, but I was getting pressed for time and found it more prudent to return the way I came. The metaphoric sense of that decision did not escape my attention, however, as I found that reversing my journey and going back the way I came was not as rewarding. I had to go back to do a show, and knew at that moment I did not want to. But it was quite an experience, liberating and exhausting, heady and physically taxing. And I think this transforming experience is going to make a difference once I finish this contract. It has already begun to make a difference, as I now seem to find all the things that people around me take so seriously to be just so much foolishness. While there is a great deal of foolishness and pettiness in the world of theatre, it's no less so in academia (or probably in any other workplace in America). But what I have come to realize is that I may finally have hit a place where I do not have to endure the foolishness because I have some other need to fulfill; I can simply walk away from it, figuratively and literally. Come mid-June, I think I'll begin to do more walking than I ever have before. -TWL