I am cleaning house...

"I am cleaning house.  Trusting God. Doing what is in front of me.  That is good, and that is enough. I am enough." - Ashley Judd


So okay.  It was a good day.  But that doesn't make it any less difficult.  Tolerance of self was better, if only slightly, today.  But better is an improvement. And improvements are successes. 

I finally found the way to walk to the Globe that I can live with.  I've taken six or seven different routes and finally found which fits me.  The walk goes down Drury Lane.  Like. The one from the muffin man nursery rhyme.  I love that.  Anyway.  I walk from Drury, past the Alwich theatre, over Waterloo Bridge, and then along the Thames allllllllllll the way until the Globe.  It's direct, it's beautiful, it's perfect.  Done and done.

First on the agenda for the day was the tour of the "Globe library".  The quotations are for the fact that it's a tiny nook on the third level of some offices next to the theatre.  But it has EVERY book on Shakespeare you can imagine as well as archives of reviews from all the shows, videos for research of all performances, articles written by the artistic directors, and all the prompt books from the shows.  I'm in Heaven. 

Classes began with a Q&A with Tony Howard.  He is an expert in Shakespeare adaptations especially from theatre to film. We watched part of Peter Brook's King Lear on film which is  arguably the most influential version ever done.  Tony loves his job so much.  There's nothing like a professor who you can see truly loves what they were doing.  It gives that extra excitement that keeps your attention.

Context class was next where my mind was blown and revolutionized my view on the Shakespearean purist.  People argue often that you must respect Shakespeare's work in it's purest form.  When in fact there is rarely a "pure" script available.  There are so many different version and edits and revisions that began even in Shakespeare's time.  A script went from author to being copied by hand or immediately to print (rarely) or to the theatre company to become a prompt book where it is sent to the Master of the Revels (the censorship) and then broken into parts.  It's like the telephone game.  Already the scripts have possibly been altered five times in the first disbursement.  Shakespeare also wrote full plays that never ran only two or two and a half hours (reference: Romeo and Juliet's "two hour traffic of our stage".  If you have ever done the full folio or quarto version you know that it'll never be two hours.)  He wrote it in full knowledge that it would be edited for performance.   At the Globe, they try to immediately dispel the claim that Shakespeare was a God and needs to be idolized.  Because you can't act honestly if you are too busy worshipping.  This does not mean, in my opinion, that you disrespect his work by fully disregarding his intention.  But it certainly doesn't mean you have to be so literal as to follow every last thing (i.e. Exeunt. Pursued by bear).

Following Context was our first Voice class.  I'm thinking, oh no problem. We'll Mahhhh a bit, intone, do some tongue twisters and be done. yeah...about that...it was like a military bootcamp.  Planks (both one footed and two), panting, standing side stretches until you are shaking and have to practise lamaze to prevent from passing out, and a lot of breathing.  It was amazing.  We were all red in the face, a hot sweaty mess, and breathing clear and uninhibited.  Free breath is the most wonderful full feeling.  The teacher-Martin- told us that the Globe space has beautiful acoustics but it is unforgiving to the forced pushed voice.  To send the sound to all the seats (especially the first level back pews that apparently don't ping as well) you have to speak with the intention of tension free throat, no strain, and openly send the sound straight forward.  Easier said than done.  People always say "speak up" when they can't hear you. But it isn't volume that you need.  It's clarity in sound.  Not in enunciation.  But in quality.  The difference in your body is subtle, but the difference in sound is huge.

Then we had movement again with the good fairy Glynn-duh.  Such a remarkable woman.  She has more energy than all 23 of us combined.  And she's got thirty some years on all of us.  Today we worked on a sort of free dance.  un-com-fortable.  She would play some Elizabethan music and we'd bounce or lope around like uncoordinated children.  She'd add elements like "lead with your bum" or "tits out! Flaunt it if you got it!" or we'd find ourselves gliding around the room using only the legs from the knees and below. 
We then moved into the elements of earth, water, fire, water.  But this was different from Benedicte and Lucien's method.  Each element had a stance that would be held and breathed through. For the most part the stances were not easy and the focus required made you sweat almost more.  Each has a power and a message.  Many people identify with one or two and most likely find at least one a little unnatural.  For me, I found Earth and Water fine.  But fire was borderline, which then threw me off for Air.  Makes sense.  They've never much been my elements.  We found a partner then and performed our elements at the same time while looking at each other.  And it's a completely level of getting to know who they are by which element they live by. 
Another exercise that we did was focusing on little and big movement through dance. Namely through James Brown-ish music.  We'd dance around doing the twist, shimmie-ing, and throwing ourselves around. 
And finally (this exercise came in the middle somewhere but I'm writing about it last because it was the one the affected me the most), we had to go to one side of the room opposite the door.  And as a group (to music) we had to move towards the door.  But the door represented death. 
We all die.  I know that.  But I've always had a huge fear of it.  Always afraid that I'd get to that door before I was ready.  Before I had done all I wanted to do and seen all I wanted to see.  There's too much regret in that.  And I don't think I know many things that are scarier than that.  So when the group began to edge forward towards it, I couldn't move.  They began to reach for each other's hands.  To cling to each other and some even boldly walked toward it.  I kept thinking, "What are you doing?  Haven't you ever known someone who died? "  Most of the deaths I've been around have been unnatural ones.  A boy I babysat for who died under the age of ten, my grandfather in a bi-plane crash, a friend in high school from suicide.  I've  seen early death.  And I saw that door.  And I started to tear up. But I knew I had to stay with the group. And the only thing worse than dying, was being the only one left alive.  And at least in this, we didn't have to die alone.  In reality, you almost always go alone. I could feel KS looking at me, trying to get me to take her hand.  I couldnt look anyone in the face but caught LM's eyes.  He winked, as if to say "it's ok.  It's going to be ok."  I kept looking away from the door.  Looking for anywhere else.  And also thinking "don't cry you idiot.  don't be that girl."  But tears were streaming down my face.  JS was standing next to me now, he didnt grab my hand, but set his against mine and waited.  And I took it.  There's just something about JS, the actor (I don't really know him all that well as a person), that brings comfort.  Whenever I have a hard time with an exercise, for some reason or other, I take from him what I need.  The group continued to eek towards the door, music still playing.  I shut my eyes, leaned my forehead on the back of JS's arm, felt the pressure of LM's hand on my right shoulder pulling me forward, and inched my way with the group. ...it was one of the most horrifying feelings I've ever felt. 
We had a five minute break sometime after that.  I found myself sitting next to Glynn.  She turned to me and said-
G: "Where are you from?"
Me: Seattle and NYC.
G: huh. ...that was very good work.  Well done.

...this is a fucked up business.  But...man did I learn a lot.  And it was the first time in weeks that I didn't feel fuzzy in the brain.  So. Small successes.  Take them in.  Accept them.  Then let them go.

The class ended with the usual prayer and thanks.  And so ended our Thursday.

Afterwards some guys and I went to a pub for a beer.  I'm thankful for these men.  They are positive people.  Talented people.  And give me perspective.  I vented more than I'd liked.  But it's done.  And it's time to put away any leftover resentment or echoes of disappointment in myself or in the process.  Venting is one thing but dwelling is another.  And I'm bordering on dwelling.  Nobody benefits from a dweller.  So with that I will thank God I have the friends I do, the family that has been constant, and say:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference. 

and

"Rivers know this: There is no hurry.  We will get there someday."  -Winnie the Pooh.


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