Choose Love.

“There is a light in this world, a healing spirit more powerful than any darkness we may encounter. We sometimes lose sight of this force when there is suffering, too much pain. Then suddenly, the spirit will emerge through the lives of ordinary people who hear a call and answer in extraordinary ways.” - Mother Teresa

A new year.  A very new chapter in my life.  A new verve for life and artistry, the blog must live again.  I've lots to say, and hope, dear reader...or perhaps, new reader, my reflections and words may offer something to your life and heart.

Even the coffee shows me love here in NYC | Cafe Grumpy, Chelsea

I live in New York City now, and in New York, the stark contrasts that exist on the spectrum of humanity are present and inescapable.  Lightness and darkness coincide, mix to shadows and dim glows.  So much can be witnessed in one day.  New York is a city where, should you open yourself up too far to the suffering in the world (the darkness), despair may creep it's way in to your house of personal constitution.  The beauty of this city, in contrast, and if you're open to it, is the awe-inspiring connectivity of the millions of humans (who are the light) that inhabit this tiny island.  In my last few months here, incomprehensible synchronicities have occurred, wonderfully affirming meetings transpired.  As Mother Teresa describes, it's the human spirit that prevails through darkness, and seeks other souls out in times of need.  Extraordinary, indeed.  So, for the sake of this writing alone, which is a trail of ponderings rather than dissertation on what I know to be, what if that was the meaning of life here on earth?  To weather the storms of darkness by navigating with other souls of light and passing on the gesture?  And isn't lightness merely a manifestation of great love?  And in this world of billions of people--with various occupations, hopes, dreams, needs waiting to be fulfilled, how do different individuals find their own path on this journey?  How do you?  How do I?

For me, personally, art provides some stirrings of answers to these questions.

The Guthrie Theater announced the predecessor for Artistic Director position on Tuesday.  Replacing Joe Dowling who has been at the helm for the past two decades, Joseph Haj is from a new generation of theatre makers.  Since the announcement, many of his speeches and previously written articles are resurfacing and circulating.  January of last year, Haj addressed attendees of the Under the Radar Festival, and his speech is extant on Theatre Communication Group’s website.

His speech confronts the notion of the omni-present, age old belief: theatre is a dying art form, and shakes it’s head at the nay-sayers of the world that arts in our communities do not have value.  He marvels, “I have never seen anything take so long to die [the theatre]. We can’t even come up with new reasons why the theatre is dying.”  He expounds upon his theory refuting the endangered theatrical species, “I think one of the single most radical acts a community can perform, is for 500 people, in agreement with one another, to turn off their cell phones and sit in a dark room together to listen to someone ELSE’s story.”

Haj begins to articulate why I think I am so drawn to theatre as a way of life, and addresses this question I have posed a few paragraphs above.  A theatrical event draws strangers together, illuminates someone else's story, to hold the mirror up to nature, so that this group of strangers may reflect on their own lives.  It appears to me as though a theatrical event magnifies this notion of souls of light reaching out to those in darkness, no?--but through catharsis by examining another's story.

To some, well, to most, this work is risky; fear inducing--for the maker, the performers, and the consumers, and for some creators, fear of losing is paralyzing and risk-diminishing.   Again, I bring it back to love.

"Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; When little fears grow great, great love grows there."  - Act III, sc. 2 | Hamlet

Haj, in his speech, demands of the theatre creators coveting fear: fearful of losing, fearing death, “What are we waiting for? Better times? These ARE better times. This might be as good as it ever gets. Right now. And a fear-based, scarcity mindset that invites us to hunker down, think small, share nothing with anybody, have no courage until some imagined “better day”, in fact pushes us towards the very demise that we are trying to avoid.”

His solution?  Build a forum, of sorts.  Include a diverse mass of thinkers and creators, and get to work.  Be bold, celebrate differences, ask yourself, “What do we need?  What is our community yearning for?"  That abundance doesn’t exist is a lie.  We are blockading our own brilliance by embracing fear over love.

He encourages, “Choose generosity. Choose love. Make room. There is truly such abundance.”

And abundance I have witnessed, in many shades of lightness.

In my many synchronistic occurrences in New York thus far, I have discovered a Forum of Love.

The Shakespeare Forum, a small non-profit theatre company, are mongers of love and inspiration, and gather people together over a great adoration of William Shakespeare and his words.  They produce Shakespeare plays, have remarkable educational initiatives, partnering with schools throughout the city, and offer resources for actors and performers.

The Shakespeare Forum 2015 from The Shakespeare Forum on Vimeo.

So far, I have been most affected by their work, however, through their Open Workshop they hold every Tuesday night.  This free workshop (only a suggested donation of $5 is asked) is open to any and all public--no one turned away or "auditioned" to get in--and is all about sharing work in a loving, supportive environment.  In a room of sometimes 80 people, this ensemble chooses 5 individuals each week to get up and share a monologue or scene (mostly always written by Shakespeare), and the entire room is given the platform to give feedback. 

The first time I attended, it was out of sheer curiosity…perhaps sadistic curiosity.  The premise could make for some sick and riveting reality television: New York + actors + New York Actors (auditions + so many no’s, so little yeses! + hurt + anger + ego + neuroses +  competition) x 1,000 = potential for a gauntlet style showdown of egos and outsmarting of wits surrounding The Bard.--YUCK!

The Shakespeare Forum founders.

My curiosity was proven beautifully wrong.  This group of heart-ful artists have tapped in to an enchanting phenomenon.  Their choice of name says a lot:  The Shakespeare FORUM.  Forum.  Which, defined, states “a place, a meeting or medium where ideas and views on a particular issue can be exchanged.”  Not orated or lectured, but exchanged.  Their motto says even more:  play the love—choose love.  These factors combined make for a magical space where bold, inspiring work can happen.  I could go on about how a safe space is created, allowing actors and observers alike the freedom to play, experiment, get messy, remove armors, but I will let an anecdote speak instead.

At last week’s Forum, I witnessed a woman get up in front of the room and share her embodiment of the character Constance from King John.  I have watched her attend each week, always the care-ful observer.  Rarely she speaks, but when she does, she offers exquisitely eloquent feedback.  Her voice is deep and sonorous, always greeting others with empathy—a very heart forward person.  It is not until she stands that you realize she walks with a cane.  Last Tuesday, she stood, cane-less, in front of the room and shared her Constance* --it was clear, well-spoken, wonderfully thought through--choices made, personal connection evident.  When asked by the facilitators, "Why this speech?"  She replied, "I read this play when I wanted to die, and I fell in love with it."  When asked, "What do you want to work on?," she replied, "I am deaf.  I have not heard my own voice in 15 years, and I want to make sure I am clear in my speaking."

The air in the room shifted, as it does with each person who braves to work in front of the crowd there.  I watched the room embrace her, energetically, and offer loving and constructive feedback with care and patience—I watched a group of strangers literally rise up to meet another person in their pain, and longing, and loss, and hope--encouraging her to feel safe enough to be heard, clearly or otherwise.  Then I watched her nobly take in the room's gracious exchange.  I swear I watched her love herself, embrace herself fully (perhaps for the first time in a long time…maybe ever?), for through the eyes of the individuals in the room, she saw the brilliance of her own heart and spirit.  She began the monologue again, and rode astride the words, letting her and Constance merge, their roots entwine.  When complete, she was speechless.  “I’ve gone over this piece so many times.  On subway platforms, down the street, in bodegas…people have really thought I was crazy.  I know it!  I’ve never forgotten the words, but for a moment I did there.” 

“That’s ok,” cried a facilitator of the workshop, “you’re breaking old patterns you’d formed around the piece…something is happening.  How did that feel?”

She paused, and with her heart wide open, a slight smile on her face, she said, “I think I heard my own voice.”

And who says the arts don’t have value?  Who says words can’t empower?  Who says a soul’s energetic determination cannot alter a physical determination?  Who says goodness and light does not prevail over badness and dark?

I defy that hypothetical "Who" with all of what I have witnessed, and laid to my heart above, and more.

Perhaps you are already seeing the parallels between my juxtaposition of The Shakespeare Forum and Joseph Haj’s mission statements.  There’s something to it, though, right?

The greatest confluence:  love.  I was recently reminded by a very wise person, “Love never fails, love never fails, love never fails.”

One last profoundly impactful creative experience I have recently drawn toward me in my journey, and then I will conclude to let you ponder on the ways of the heart for yourself.

The playwright, Charles Mee (Chuck Mee), in 2000, wrote a play called Big Love.  Wildly theatrical in scope, humorous, profound, the play explores, in a succinct and linear narrative, the nuances of BIG, BIG love.  All kinds of love.  I saw a newly staged production last Wednesday at The Signature Theatre.  Sitting front row, having taken an unrestrained journey with the performers telling his story, and absorbed a very action packed climax, he zeroes in (and Tina Landau so wonderfully highlighted in her direction of this moment) on the power of love:

"And, if we cannot embrace another?  What hope do we have of life?