Two done... It is finished

7 months ago I heard the call.

3 months ago I attended an information evening.

2 months ago I received the call up.

6 weeks ago we started learning the structure of the narrative and committed this to memory.

4 days ago we convened, for the first time, to rehearse. Yesterday morning we finished rehearsing the last half of the play. One full dress rehearsal during the afternoon. And that was it. That was all we did before the actual show. Man that was freaky.

Now today. I'm home. It is over. It is finished. I am indeed tired, emotional, both saddened and joyful to be part of something greater than just the sum of... well, me. 

It's been an honour to serve, perform, be in a production with all these people. Never again will I do this in the same way again.... If you get a chance watch the Mark Drama... It's been amazing... 

It is done

The first performance is done. My voice is shot. I'm tired. So achey... So tired.

Did it go well? How did we do? 

My answer is the same after most performances: "I don't know".

On the one hand I'm glad it's over. Yet on the other I'm curious. Did it work. Did the power of the story penetrate people. 

I hear what people are saying to me. I hear their words. Some encouraging. Some suggesting improvements. However each never really penetrating. I still do not understand what they are saying. I wish it would. The only thing that remains is the same question: How did we do... How did I do ... Did it work?

I'm sure I'll take that pondering on with me... Yet why is it I still wish to hear what others thought.

Man, I'm tired.

I am greed

In this play I represent a sin. My sin is Greed.

Just had a day of rehearsals. It started with fear and ends with trembling. 2 hours to show time.

I keep hearing myself remembering my sin. Saying the words over and over.

I am greed. I am greed... I am greed.

Drama

I'm involved in a production right now that is using older styles of perfomance. Using a combination of improvisation and simple theatrics.

The first performance is tonight. Just over 12 hours it will be show time.

We've only had two rehearsals. Last night was less of a triumph than the previous session. "12 hours" I keep telling myself.

The method of this performance is ancient. A trainee director said to me yesterday this has been done many times and gone through enormous iterative changes. When he did it (he too performed earlier this year... as it happens he was doing the identical role to the one I am playing) he said I just had to trust the director, the power of the story, and his faith in the story telling.

Well I'm certainly not confident in my abilities right now. It's hard to trust someone else in such a time of confusion. I know that I'm in a position of not knowing and he is in one of knowing. So who do I trust. 

12 hours to go.

Courage

"If I can get that one encouragement right. Just that one. It can last months"

He has two disabled daughters and together with his wife are full time carers. The situation is not good. Their decline shall be incremental. Yet each day is a battle to not give in. To wrestle with that desire to simply give up. Each day they wrestle. Some days are good. Some days...

When I asked how does they get through. He replied simply, encouragement.

I've heard this folklore story before and always enjoyed its sentiment and one which I know we,  too, as a family have got through each day only through others' encouragement.

Eight

Eight years ago Caleb came into our lives. Today we celebrated.

His best friend had a sleepover last night and the two are inseparable. Such a rich friendship and today when Caleb received some money. He instinctively, without hesitation, took half and gave it to him. Didn't think twice. Angie was about to intervene. She stopped. Paused and simply watched our son. As she left she said she smiled and was giving thanks for his kindness and reminder of the power of sharing.