The weather made up its mind and chose high winds and rain with cold rushing in to fill in any gaps. On my drive home from Monticello tonight leaves were falling all around me, the road was covered in downed pine needles and the rain was heading towards my windshield and looked, in the lights, like a laser attack.
It was awesome.
Gonna get cold tonight. And colder tomorrow.
I'll probably bitch about it. You know I will.
Steel Magnolias is going to be something. We took our first tentative steps tonight. Everyone was there and we blocked the first scene which takes up at least a third of the play. As I said before, I have worked with two of the women before and we know each other. We know each other's rhythms and ways. And it's fun to have three new women to work with and the joy of it for me is always this coming together and taking flat words off a page and becoming someone other than our regular selves and making the words our own and the story, too.
It's a lot like magic when it works.
I feel so lucky to have this outlet.
I did some yoga today. First time in months. My yoga teacher retired from teaching, pretty much because I quit going as I was so often her only student. I quit going mostly because of Owen but I think I was just waiting for an excuse. My teacher was a very nice woman but the farthest thing in the world from what I would think a yoga teacher should be. But it did me good, going to her classes for so long and I will always be grateful to her for giving me the basics. I hope to continue doing forty-five minutes to an hour a day on my own. As I stretched and breathed today, it was as if my body was sighing with delight. I stood and did tree pose (my favorite) and looked out at the tung tree with its yellow turning leaves and I had a moment of quiet rightness.
Well, we shall see.
Why is it so damn hard to do the things we know will give us the most joy? Give us the strength and balance we need in this life? I wish I knew.
This funny life. It's as rich and full as we want it to be. As we make it. I have the strongest instinct towards making my life small. I know I do and it's not a good thing. I think depression is part of that- what's the point? And yet, the point is, when we do new things, or take up old things that brought us joy, we feel better. Ironic, eh?
So. Here I am, living a small life in a small village but popping out occasionally to act, to try and make that magic with others. I hang out with my kids some, and Owen comes to me. I can almost resemble a normal person sometimes and I think that most likely, everyone feels this way to a certain extent. We act in such a way that we will fit in. Most of us. We don't dance to the Muzak in the grocery story when we like it, we don't start screaming when we don't. We pretend we're delighted to see people that we'd just as soon avoid. We hold our tongues in most situations where, if we unleashed them, others would be offended or hurt or baffled. It's the way of the ape-tribe.
Hell. How did I get from yoga to there?
Fuck if I know.
Good-night, y'all. Think about what you'd like to do if...
you had the time, the money, the backbone, the balls, the whatever it is stopping you.
And tell me about it if you want.
I'd love to hear.
Now get your rest and see where your dreams take you. See if they inform your waking dreams.
I wish you flying, I wish you singing, I wish you sparkling like the rain that hurtled itself through the darkness tonight.
I wish you EVERYTHING you want, no matter how big.
I really do.