Plot Light

Positoning of ladder
Tool in her pocket
Rung by rung
Precarious perch
In the dark

Reefing on nuts
Tilting, swivelling
Barn doors and gel
Focus, get rid of spill
Telescoping

Down on the stage below
Her friend dancing, spinning,
In her own little world
Spots and dots and colour
Bright light

Four Beautiful Things

1. I saw my first fairy slipper of the season.
2. I visited Fern Gully(aka Spirit Caves Trail) and it was beautiful even in the pouring rain.
3. I watched the documentary "Stone Reader", about reading and writing obssessions.
4. I discovered a "Three Beautiful Things" blog.

Bogged Down

I finally finished English August, An Indian Story. I've commented on this book in a previous post on a positive note. That was written after 1/3 of the book was read. After trudging through the middle section, my impression of the novel changed. I felt bogged down by the main character's passivity. I got tired of watching his masturbation practices and his marijuana hazed days. His nonsensical lies and petty tricks weren't funny anymore. His whining did not induce empathy or simpathy but exasperation on his inability to find meaning in anything. And in the end, he goes home to daddy.

It's not that I don't understand depression or loneliness. I've been there. Maybe I wanted the hero to rise above it. Perhaps I needed a happier ending or at least a few things resolved. A thread of hope would have been nice.

Break A Leg

I'm so tired. I've spent hours and hours on Hope Little Theatre's production of "Moo" by Sally Clark. I have a small part and I have the job of production manager. There is just over 2 weeks till showtime and still so much to do. Some nights I can't sleep because of the thoughts and lists swirling around in my head. There seems to be so much riding on the success of my performance. Why is that I wonder? What am I trying to prove and to whom. It's just a play. I have no reputation to live up to because I've never done anything like this before. I took it on to stretch, try something new, challenge myself. Mission accomplished and I'm soooo tired.

These group endeavours are complicated. The success or failure isn't totally dependent on my energy, enthusiasm, or skills (or lack of) alone. Up until this week, it has mostly been fun. In the last few days, my anxiety level has increased substantially and I've noticed I'm not alone in this. There were a few others letting their crankiness show. As we waded through the whole play, there were moments of clarity and flow and brilliant momentum and timing. There was much murkiness and blundering as well. The missed cues and bumbling lines were the least of it. The technical complexities of a 2 act play with 47 scenes and 18 characters, (played by 10 actors), taking place from 1919 to the 1970's, can cause headaches and sleep deprivation. I know we'll pull this off and it will be fun and the audience will be entertained and possibly captivated. In the meantime, did I mention how tired I am?

Knowing When to Let Go

I've been frustrated with a few people lately and haven't been able to let it go. I've been dwelling on the irritants in these relationships and it has coloured the way I perceive subsequent interactions with these same people. The negativity has leaked into the rest of my life as well. It has zapped me.

Last week on my walk home from work I intentially discarded the contrariety like a heavy cloak. I walked into the house feeling lighter than I had in a long time. Three of my children were sitting in the living room yakking, enjoying each others company. My spirit lifted even more as I became a part of that moment of connectedness. I was high on love and positive energy. The kids asked me what had happened to make me so happy. I told them, (not in so many words), that it was their "being" that elated me, the fact that they get along and that we all belong. My great mood lasted several days.

Good moods and moments come and go, sometimes like a pendulum. Actually, I prefer a trapese analogy. I'm grabbing hold of these moments, holding on as if my life depended on it, and then swinging and letting go to the next as it comes close enough. Timing is everything.

An Indian Story

I'm reading "English, August An Indian Story", by Upamanyu Chatterjee. It's a coming of age story and is beautifully written. The main character, Agastya (August) is in a boring, mind numbing civil service job in the back of beyond. He is extremely lonely and feeling displaced. The narrative takes you to a version of every day colourful, comical India and dissects the usual, "who am I and why am I here" questions in a unique way.

" He felt that one saw significant moments in time only retrospectively, glittering mocking jewels of past time, that left in their wake only regret and consequent desolation, the first cause of a series of atonements and attempts at reparation. Most men, like him, chose in ignorance, and fretted in an uncongenial world, and learnt to accept and compromise, with or without grace, or slipped into despair.... I want to know in the present, I want my reason, and not even my intuition, but my reason, to tell me, here, you are now master of your time to come, act accordingly. But it seemed incapable of directing significant action. Once he had believed that it was good to be rational, but now it seemed that his reason could never answer the overwhelming questions...One way out was to turn to the extra-terrestrial, to believe in that special providence; ... another was to slink away from having to think..."