Howdy again. It's been way too long, and when my friend Megan mentioned she'd kept up on my blog, I realized I hadn't posted in a while. Time to, I think. Lord knows, the past couple of months have been full of old lessons and real world application.
This fall, I was cast in Their Eyes Saw Rain at the Company of Angels, my first straight play in nearly five years. With any new challenge, I knew that it would push me and stretch me in ways expected and unforeseen. What I didn't realize was how much I was learning in rehearsal would be applicable to my life in general. There's God in the details...
The play was small, and I had to strip myself down to tell the story truthfully. No hiding behind music or choreography or the distance of a two-thousand seat auditorium. No big sets or large technical aspects. That's nakedness right there. Just me, sitting four feet in front of the first row, talking to only one or two other people, communicating the text with as much honesty and integrity as I could muster. I had to learn to be okay with walking and living in uncertainty on stage.
I soon realized that to be completely successful, I had to get out of my way, and in a very specific way.
I have a deep-seated perfectionism, which has often served me well. However, as I've gotten older, it has calcified into an anxious feeling that if I am not perfect in everything I do, I am a failure. This produces two reactions in me. The first is to immediately write off everything as being imperfect, which causes me not to try at all. The second is that I have a hard time taking criticism or direction. I will clam up, my mind will race, and I can be very curt. Believe me, these reactions, nor my perfectionism, are nothing new to me. I constantly work through them, because they are immediate impulses, and very rarely how I actually feel. However, this show was different because I was out of my comfort zone, and that made these reactions even more pronounced.
The beginning of rehearsals proved hardest. I was trying to prove myself to a company of new actors, and working way too hard. Perfectionism at play. When my director tried to shape and guide me, I tensed. "I know what you want," I thought. "Don't need to tell me!" I was afraid of failing and making an ass of myself, which, I have learned, is the death knell for any artist. That fear is all tied to ego, and when you're obsessed with you, you don't serve the piece, your art, or your audience. You arrive at Stagnation Central. The worst part is that you carry that self-doubt to the text, your other actors, and finally to your audience. You all recall that undefinable feeling when you watch a performer that looks ill-at-ease, completely uncomfortable with what they're doing? Well, they're judging themselves, deeming themselves unworthy, and passing it on to you.
The same held true in my personal life, when I realized I'd grown to care about someone new. When I went to visit him recently, I found my attendant fears come straight to the fore. We were finally together in the same space, and suddenly we had to get to know each other in all of our complexity. My driving perfectionism made me want to make every moment "count", and fearing that the situation and myself wouldn't be perfect, I spent much of the last couple days anxious and agitated. You realize how that kills a mood? You can't laugh at yourself, you can't enjoy the moment, and most importantly, you can't enjoy HIM. You're not your best self, and you sure as hell are not going to let out the joy and happiness in seeing him show through. BYE BYE ROMANCE.
It came to a head the last part of my visit. I was lying in bed with him, tossing and turning, anxious over myself and the general weirdness between us. My heart was racing and my body temperature was skyrocketing; I was on fire.
"Are you sick?"
"No." "Just mental," I thought.
However, as I spooned him, I decided to kiss his back. I just wanted to show him some care, and I really didn't think about anything else. Almost immediately, my body temperature dropped to normal and my heart slowed. I was stunned. Stunned stupid. And especially at how stupid I'd been the past day and a half. I was doing this TO MYSELF. And in turn, directing that outward.
So what was the lesson in all this? Ultimately, it's not about me. My anxieties get in the way of me giving love, working well, and enjoying the process. Ironically when I focus on others without letting my ego(fear) get in the way, my anxieties cease. If I place pressure on the moment, I end up missing the creative collaboration in work, and the simple emotional exchange between me and my loved ones. I'm missing out. The Persian poet Rumi said, "Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."
Don't be stupid. Let me be your personal Smokey the Bear and warn you against letting your fear, your internalized shame, from blocking you in your work and your love, whatever forms they take. You can't control how others may react and feel, but you can control and know you, and give over your best self. Only you can prevent body fires. Sorry, I had to do it...
I want to open it up and ask you how you get in your way? What is blocking you from letting your love (in work, in life) be expressed?
