ARTIST STARVING
or ENJOY YOUR VACATION
I know you haven't heard from me in a while, and I don't really have an excuse. The month of May was just too boring for words. As a teacher or student for most of my life (well let's face it-ALL my life), I get summers off beginning in May. Fun right! Jealous? For most of our lives we're conditioned to look forward to summer break-an end to work, an end to stress, a break from the daily grind. Quite honestly, a few days break from the daily grind is about all I can stand before I start to get really sick of myself. In my thirties summer usually means 10 extra pounds and isolation from humanity. "Help wanted" ads at the funeral parlor start to look really appealing. I wake up at 11:00, and straggle to the computer to check my empy inbox. The highlight of my day is 3:00 when I eat lunch and watch Dr Phil. Pathetic! "What did I get that MFA for? Did I just purchase a really expensive hobby?" These are the thoughts that send me into spirals of depression and snacking.
In June I received my lifeline. I have just accepted a position as Associate Artistic Director for Oklahoma City Theatre Company. Not THE head honcho but the Associate Head Honcho. My job includes setting up a school touring program for the company that we are calling CLASSICS LIVE. The focus of the program will be to instill love for the classics in school kids from 5th through 12 grades. We will perform 45 minute versions of classic literature from Shakespeare to Beowulf. We will also plan and teach workshop sessions for the kids to expose them to the material in a more interactive way. In addition to setting up the program, making sure we have scripts adapted, actors and director recruited, shows booked, AND the grant money to make it all happen in time for fall, I'm also in charge of OCTC's New Play Festival which is scheduled for spring '07. But don't think I'm giving up teaching. No, no, no. I already have plans to direct the musical at Oklahoma Christian in the fall, and if they offer me a class or two...well, why not. I already have the lesson plans. Whew!
Some of the people in my life worry: "Rachel, I don't want you to overwork yourself. Are you sure you have the energy for all that?" Are you kidding? This is a dream come true. A whole summer full of too much to do. Maybe this year I'll even lose weight. Starving artist has taken on a whole new meaning this year. I was starving, yes STARVING, wasting away spiritually and emotionally for want of work.
Enjoy your vacation.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
FALLING AND SEEING
Most people think it's complete nonsense to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, and before this past August I would have agreed. This summer I had the opportunity to go skydiving for the first time, and I discovered an experience and an international sub-culture like no other.
My first (and only) jump to date (yes, I plan to go again), was a tandem jump. A professional skydiver (a native of South Africa) strapped himself to my back and we jumped through the door together. He was responsible for pulling the rip cord and guiding us to the drop zone, so I could just enjoy the ride. I was immediately surprised by the lack of a sense of falling. Personally, I hate rollercoasters and other amusement park rides, but skydiving is completely different. Instead of that nauseous, motion-sick feeling in my stomach, I felt relaxed. It's like flying or floating because the wind pressure gives the sensation that you're hardly moving at all. It's loud--as if you're hanging your head out of a car door at 90 mph, but as soon as the parachute is released you experience the most peaceful quiet. I could see for miles and miles, and because we went in late afternoon, I could see the moon rising. I felt a closeness to God, and a simultaneous sense of my own power and powerlessness. I was shocked at how spiritual the experience was for me.
After three very difficult-physically demanding and emotionally charged-years in graduate school, a peace suddenly came over me that is difficult to describe. The residue of graduate school-the pain and frustration I had been holding onto-seemed as far away as the ground below. I could see those who had hurt me in my life for what they are, as tiny and insignificant as I am compared to the scale and enormity of the universe.
When we finally came to rest on the grassy field, I wanted to stay very still. I wanted to lie supine on the cool ground facing the sky where I had just been as I enjoyed the pungent aroma of the earth and grass all around me. I was unable to speak about the experience for several days afterward. Perhaps I'll share a poem I wrote about it later. For now, I still want to keep many of my feelings private. I'm only writing this now to encourage all of you to treat yourselves to this life-changing experience. Go if you have the chance. Skydiving is not just about falling, it's also about seeing.
When once you have tasted flight,
you will always walk the earth
with your eyes turned skyward;
For there you have been,
and there you will long to return.
Most people think it's complete nonsense to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, and before this past August I would have agreed. This summer I had the opportunity to go skydiving for the first time, and I discovered an experience and an international sub-culture like no other.
My first (and only) jump to date (yes, I plan to go again), was a tandem jump. A professional skydiver (a native of South Africa) strapped himself to my back and we jumped through the door together. He was responsible for pulling the rip cord and guiding us to the drop zone, so I could just enjoy the ride. I was immediately surprised by the lack of a sense of falling. Personally, I hate rollercoasters and other amusement park rides, but skydiving is completely different. Instead of that nauseous, motion-sick feeling in my stomach, I felt relaxed. It's like flying or floating because the wind pressure gives the sensation that you're hardly moving at all. It's loud--as if you're hanging your head out of a car door at 90 mph, but as soon as the parachute is released you experience the most peaceful quiet. I could see for miles and miles, and because we went in late afternoon, I could see the moon rising. I felt a closeness to God, and a simultaneous sense of my own power and powerlessness. I was shocked at how spiritual the experience was for me.
After three very difficult-physically demanding and emotionally charged-years in graduate school, a peace suddenly came over me that is difficult to describe. The residue of graduate school-the pain and frustration I had been holding onto-seemed as far away as the ground below. I could see those who had hurt me in my life for what they are, as tiny and insignificant as I am compared to the scale and enormity of the universe.
When we finally came to rest on the grassy field, I wanted to stay very still. I wanted to lie supine on the cool ground facing the sky where I had just been as I enjoyed the pungent aroma of the earth and grass all around me. I was unable to speak about the experience for several days afterward. Perhaps I'll share a poem I wrote about it later. For now, I still want to keep many of my feelings private. I'm only writing this now to encourage all of you to treat yourselves to this life-changing experience. Go if you have the chance. Skydiving is not just about falling, it's also about seeing.
When once you have tasted flight,
you will always walk the earth
with your eyes turned skyward;
For there you have been,
and there you will long to return.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
TREASURES ON EARTH
Maybe I'm feeling this way because it's spring, but I have an overwhelming urge to throw everything in my house away and start over. It seems like all the things I treasure are rotting in a closet or an attic anyway. After a while these "treasures" only exist in my mind. Do I really need a tangible object to connect me to a time in my childhood or a deceased relative?
In some instances, yes I do. I need the porcelain magnolia that sat in my Granny's entryway. I have it displayed on a desk that I walk by and use every day. Having it and seeing it constantly, reminds me that she is still very much a part of who I am today. It reminds me of her love for flowers and her love for me. Why? Because I have memories of childhood, treasured memories of her all tangled and tied up with that object. Obviously, I would remember my Granny without having this tangible reminder, but seeing it everyday keeps her close to me. In the midst of the craziness and chaos of my life, I think I need to be reminded of a simpler time when no place felt more loving or more secure than Granny's lap.
Conclusion:
If I love something (because it connects me to something of deeper value, because it reminds me of people I love and their love for me), I need to display it.
Stop buying useless junk just because it's pretty. What meaningful, and therefore beautiful, things are packed away in a box somewhere of no use to anyone?
If it's packed away, unused and uncared f0r, I need to give it away, sell it, or toss it. Excavate the treasure, but the junk's gotta go. It's smothering me.
Maybe I'm feeling this way because it's spring, but I have an overwhelming urge to throw everything in my house away and start over. It seems like all the things I treasure are rotting in a closet or an attic anyway. After a while these "treasures" only exist in my mind. Do I really need a tangible object to connect me to a time in my childhood or a deceased relative?
In some instances, yes I do. I need the porcelain magnolia that sat in my Granny's entryway. I have it displayed on a desk that I walk by and use every day. Having it and seeing it constantly, reminds me that she is still very much a part of who I am today. It reminds me of her love for flowers and her love for me. Why? Because I have memories of childhood, treasured memories of her all tangled and tied up with that object. Obviously, I would remember my Granny without having this tangible reminder, but seeing it everyday keeps her close to me. In the midst of the craziness and chaos of my life, I think I need to be reminded of a simpler time when no place felt more loving or more secure than Granny's lap.
Conclusion:
If I love something (because it connects me to something of deeper value, because it reminds me of people I love and their love for me), I need to display it.
Stop buying useless junk just because it's pretty. What meaningful, and therefore beautiful, things are packed away in a box somewhere of no use to anyone?
If it's packed away, unused and uncared f0r, I need to give it away, sell it, or toss it. Excavate the treasure, but the junk's gotta go. It's smothering me.
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