Granted, eight days prior, with a lot of help, I pulled off a project in four dimensions (and learned that it needs to be scripted in five, but still). During its rehearsal process, I also went to Chicago to participate in rehearsals and a reading of another of my works. And Skyped rehearsals for yet another.
It’s not exactly true that I sat around that week, I built three Ikea bookcases and shoved a baby grand piano across the width of my house. I shoveled snow and lunched with my other mother and chosen sister, debriefed the Comm class that helped with that big project, met with a Theater Management class who’re helping with a business plan for Phase II. Made notes for the multi-dimensional rewrite and for a new play. Revamped my website. And worked on finishing yet another play, which is coyly yielding its secrets.
I also looked at a blog entry from nearly a year before, filled with gratitude for my then-year of amazing good fortune. Little did I know that this past fall would be three times as busy as that whole year, and this winter even busier.
All of this brings out the best and worst in people around me.
I’m grateful to the singers who actively and passive-aggresively obstructed my rehearsals, to the assistant director who reblocked my show without my knowledge or permission, to chorus members watching their show from backstage who thought it more important to scream with laughter and then discuss that, screamingly, for another 10 or 15 seconds while the star tried to sing a very quiet ballad onstage, and to the writers who very thinly veil their belief that everything I’m generating and earning should belong to them.
I’m much more grateful, however, to the actor who juggled some tough life lessons with breaking new ground in his work and contributing on many levels to mine, all with a rather antic sense of humor and wit. I’m more grateful to the brilliantly competent stage manager who pulled off my 4-ring circus with grace and aplomb. And then there’s the colleague whose sane, sage advice is exceeded only by his sense of proportion, of appropriateness, and his great kindness and generosity.
There’s so much else to be grateful for, abundant food and shelter, clothing, heat when I’m willing to pay for it, the love of good people who accept mine as well. An unceasing flow of ideas and creativity. The opportunity to air my opinions, the ability to parse them coherently (usually), a world of artists in which to live and work and play.
Another bout of gratitude, time to say another Shehecheyanu or twelve, both for my current opportunities and lessons, and for the moral base my mother so carefully cultivated in me. I haven’t always behaved according to my standards, but have definitely learned that I like everything better when I do, and vow to improve on that score.
©2012, all rights reserved