Grief as Purpose

My last Blog was completely inspired by Leslye Headland, brave Writer/Director/Artist, who read Inspiration (or how to learn from your sins) & tweeted me this weekend to keep writing-just when I wanted to give up. Leslye has reignited my passion of making pain into art, inspiring this week's Blog.

The last time I wrote was before Grief; this noun (significantly more than a thing) paralyzed me for weeks. A fear-defying deadline forced me to derive Purpose from Grief. My Statement of Purpose was due-a summary of why I was applying to Yale School of Drama for Acting. Below is an excerpt of my why.

      Summarizing has become a kind of art for me—selecting significant events that will neatly (but thoroughly) describe what I’ve done, who I am, when my potential will prove, why I exist, and where I come from; my synopsis, or rather, my Purpose. My multi-faceted, culturally ingrained, constantly evolving purpose, humble challenger to my—gratefully present—life in the theatre.

     I didn’t mean to make a literal Statement of Purpose, but this sudden feeling is too significant, too precious to let slip. Grief. The recent, swift loss of my Stepfather to cancer shut me down, followed by tremendous CLARITY. Eulogizing my secondly departed Dad (both paralyzed by doubts, fear, wasted potential) renewed value in my uncommon abilities and opportunities. No longer focused on the fantastic death of my idealism, courage freely replenishes! 

     Doubts of choosing Theatre constantly reveal that I would have ended up here, anyway. Arrogance of skill kept me safe; REALITY commanded the authentic size of my passion. Based on challenging fear (self), I conceived a personal reward system; creativity now delightfully emerges, with meaningful and truthful contributions. 

     All verifications for boldly selecting my original purpose: Acting. Previously blind to extraordinary opportunities, I am impassioned to work as hard as is required of Yale School of Drama. An expert Graduate program for which to consider more debt, and dedicated to sharpening the craft of my instruments: body & voice; fantastical mechanisms I control, with a fountain of knowledge left to discover. 

    My present grief prioritizes my gut over logic. Yale makes me feel purpose so passionate, it is rivaled only by my fear of it. While failing will never be my forte, it has continuously taught me this: what isn’t won’t be—unless I try.

Thank you, Leslye, for opening my mind so I can derive purpose from it all.

Inspiration (or how to learn from your sins)

I haven't written in a while, and I keep beating myself up over it. A lot of us do this; we know what we should do, but don't have the time/desire/energy to complete the task/chore/dream, and end up being THE detriment to our own confidence and success. Womp-womp. 

So, here I am: facing my fear of having nothing to say; of not writing it correctly; of it actually having an effect. Fear is almost never logical, and always disguised. I wear a suit of martyrdom for being too busy, overworked, and emotionally stressed out. Yes, reasons for inactivity will be forever present, but I won't be, and there is unmatchable merit in working so hard you can't even think about how scared you are. 

My motivation was reignited after Trevor Kluckman, who starred in my production of Seminar, invited me to attend his fundraiser last week for The Animus Theatre Company, a thriving company composed of passionate artists and inventive collaborators. Headed creatively by Artistic Director, Jonathan Judge-Russo, Animus treated its supporters to an all-day series of staged readings of Leslye Headland's Sin Cycle of plays at Circle in the Square. I was inspired to start writing again.

Among the sea of red chairs was a woman bursting with excitable energy, fervently chatting with her enthusiastic friends. I interjected to share my mutual love of witty farce 30 Rock, and I soon discovered that there was a reason for this magnetic energy; she was Leslye Headland. Even though I didn't know her work yet, Leslye embodied her identity with such a contagious and delightful force, that I was instantly infected, and eagerly awaited her words to hit my ears and heart. 

A simple row of chairs and music stands, I was fortunate to catch four of the six Sin Cycle staged readings craftily directed on Monday: Cinephilia (lust), Assistance (greed), Bachelorette (gluttony), and Surfer Girl (sloth); the last of which was expertly performed by Leslye Headland herself, proving her awe-inspiring prowess as a fully rounded artist. She was undeniably matched by the Animus members' professional work ethic, contagious energy, and driven talent.

It was immediately clear the actors would easily fill the space, Leslye's words needed no set, and that I was about to face sins I readily recognize, and shamefully hide. Each play was its own world, and separately revealed humanity's worst traits. However, I was delightfully surprised by how experiencing these sins in a truthful, raw way revealed them as gifts of wisdom. Leslye taught me you learn from what you are trying to escape (fear), and most of the time, what you are trying to escape is YOU!

Leslye is proof that what makes you different, makes you special, and that shame and regret aren't suffering's only residuals. Embracing the fear of what you know to be true is painful, but you must first be honest with yourself, to then be truthful to the world! In fact, through Leslye's honest work, and life-changing talkback, I realized I became an artist during my lowest point, when I felt most sinful. The sobering truth of our existence diminished my life-long capacity to dream, but after years of sinfully resting where dreams die, I have an urgency to dream again!

Sharing my understanding of humanity through my perfectly flawed lens of the world, just like Leslye so bravely does, is my new goal. This is only a layer of my aspirations; I am regaining the ability to dream and I am finally starting to make it happen. Become your own catalyst, face your true self, and GO OUTSIDE. 

Let It Go: Fear As Motivation

An existential crisis provides almost no positive repercussions, but I can attest to one: you suddenly realize that fear is made up of a whole lot of NOTHING. I've written about fear before, but since it is an all-encompassing mind cancer that affects all facets of life, there is plenty left to be explored; art (thankfully) allows me to explore it periodically. 

On Friday, I got up on stage for the first time in a year and belted out my rendition of "Let It Go" from Frozen. Yes, that song haunts the halls of our ears and minds daily, but it also expertly displays the Disney machine and why it works. I was part of the Faculty Cabaret at work, and I wanted to choose something I knew the kids would love. More importantly, I wanted to choose something that would challenge me-my own rebuttal to Fear and its hold over me. 

Singing had been such a part of my identity when I was young, that when I stopped singing publicly, my confidence took a hit.  Choosing to sing the hardest song I had ever attempted, in front of an audience of coworkers and peers that had no concept of my ability, forced me to have the kind of courage "Let It Go" refers to and celebrates:

It's funny how some distance

Makes everything seem small

And the things that once controlled me

Can't get to me at all

It’s time to see what I can do

To test the limits and break through

No right, no wrong, no rules for me

I’m free

I hadn't been that nervous since my college audition.  Friday was a big step in the right direction; I even put the video of me singing up on YouTube, something I would not have done when Fear was my master. Motivating myself was something I couldn't figure out how to do, increasing my fear. Facing my fears is my motivation now, keeping me on my toes every day. All this last year has taught me is that facing my fears leads to amazing rewards and big steps for my career and sanity. Fear is only in the mind, it does not exist outside of it. Face yourself and you will find that all you are fearing is yourself, which cancels fear out and turns into NOTHING. 

SO, JUMP! Try. Do. Create. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGZXAfTMRJY

"Let It Go" at the Faculty Cabaret at Art House Astoria.