Happy Anniversary Healthy Body!

 This is the last photograph of my un-scarred body. The last photo of a sick woman. The final photo of Alexandra Silber with colitis. 

"Hey Colon? *BYE GIRL!* You were a huge jerk!"

One year ago today I took a huge leap, took power back over my health and my life, and after seven years of being an autoimmune warrior with severe ulcerative colitis, I (with the support of so many) made the choice to have my entire large intestine removed. It was the first of 3 major surgeries (the 2 to follow would turn my insides into a proverbial pretzel and me with an internal J-pouch, and leave me with nothing on the outside of my body but a scar).

One of my core values is courage--not as the "absence of fear," but experiencing the *presence* of fear, walking alongside your fear, and acting anyway.

When I took this photo at 5am, I was about to leave my home and head to the hospital. Ohhhh I was afraid. But I got in the car... and checked in... and put on the horrible surgery outfit... and got on the table... and counted backward as anesthesia put me out...anyway. 

 To be afraid and do it anyway. That's courage. I was brave that day. Thank you, Dr. F, Dr. K, and everyone at Mount Sinai and Cigna. Thank you, Mom and Alec, and the entire inner circle.

One last thing: even though a major organ is now missing, I am not "less." In fact, I am more myself than ever. I am still whole.

Happy Anniversary, Al's healthy body.

 

We did it.

 And just like that, the Troupe disperses. What a life we lead. The sacrifices made to serve as we do. For all of the emotional, spiritual and physical labor, we do it because we love it. We love to tell stories and hopefully affect change and offer insight. 

For this, we often aren't paid much, we are often far from family and friends, we miss important life events and don't often enjoy fame or the perks of glittering stardom. Theatre-people are chasing something else, and despite all of these sacrifices (and more) we still come back again and again, 8 times a week, to tell stories because we don't merely believe that art can change the world, we know it. We have evidence. We've seen it. We've felt it. We have been changed by the transformative power of art ourselves.

And our play was about the power of a play. 

So we returned. From all of our quarantines and corners of the planet, we returned. To tell our story.

We did it. The company of Indecent at the Menier Chocolate Factory went "down in the airplane" together on March 14, 2020, and 18 months later we got back in the air in 2021 and made it to the finish line. As a family. Words will never be able to capture what we shared. 

 I cannot believe that the world has gotten itself to this place— however fractured.  

I cannot believe this company got to the finish line healthy and in joy. 

And, I cannot believe that I am alive and well, having been rebuilt from the guts up— and survived to do this, the most beautiful work of art I have been a part of thus far in my career.

Ale brider.

Heaven is...

Darling Women,  

Pico Iyer said “heaven is where you think of nowhere else…” 

I love this definition so much. It captures something ineffable. 

I mention it because this experience has been so extraordinary, in ways I will be unraveling for a long while. The sacrifices of an actor’s life have always been vast— mind-boggling emotional labor, physical labor, mental sharpness, diplomacy, navigating egos and emotional intimacy with strangers, all while being so physically far away from the place we call home. I have loved Halina and all she portrays more fiercely than I’ve ever loved anything I’ve ever served. From the bottom of my heart I thank you all for it, my friends, my colleagues. 

….all this and yet I still miss Alec, Tati, my friends, even my local green grocer; I feel anxious to be away from my medical team and family. All to say: this can’t permanently BE “heaven,” because by Iyer’s definition, I do think of and long for them despite the innumerable rewards of being here…

But. 

When our beloved Fin says “without further ado, The God of Vengeance, Act Two…” and Anna plucks her fiddle playing Lisa’s peerless, straight-from-God melody… my inner-ocean swells, and nothing and no one exist but my Molly. Heaven is there. 

In that pool of light, in Molly’s eyes and embrace. 

I have tasted it. 

I have traveled there. 

Because of all of you. 

I think this play saved my life, beloved women. It gave me a reason to heal, to return to not merely a job or a place, but to the land of the living in body and in spirit. 

For this, and for so many things, I will never be able to express my gratitude enough. 

With my whole heart, 

Al

 

 

The Adult Censor

As adults, as we experience more criticism and feedback, are told to be “realistic” and “practical,” in our ambitions, imaginations and scope of the wider world; and as a result, the Adult Self becomes less open to playful and creative thinking. It starts to control everything about our waking lives.

That bossy, judge-y, grouchy, productivity-obsessed voice? Yeah. That’s your Adult Self. That’s the *INNER CENSOR* adult-brain trying to helicopter-parent your poor little child-artist. 

The Adult-Self interferes by over-scheduling your inner child for too many after school activities; by being critical when they don’t win awards, get into elite schools, or meet milestones in a timely manner. When they fear the inner child isn’t as good as the other inner children. 

This Adult voice says:

“Sweetie, NO, those colors don’t go together”

or 

“That looks nothing LIKE a unicorn”

or 

“Your singing is not as good as good as SUSAN’S.”

But the Adult Self does have a role in our lives! It’s the part of us that practices critical thinking and is able to discern good from bad. Your Adult Self has taste, a discerning palette, informed experience, training, and has gained practical wisdom.

But these parts of ourselves need to live in balance with one another.

Don’t helicopter parent your Inner Artist—they’ll learn to be small, quiet or worst of all: to shut down altogether.*


* or, I dunno, become a serial killer— which would be a whole other box of bees.

 

Right Now...

I've spent the last few decades of my life proverbially standing in a position of striving. In many ways that stance was probably responsible for my accomplishments and actualization. 

 

When I was running from grief, I was under the impression that achievement meant I had "turned out okay." It did not. 

 

When I was rumbling with my illness I used striving as a form of healthy denial, then a goal to meet in order to provide the appearance of "wellness," and eventually as a form of goal-setting— achievements and things to strive for? They also mean something to live for. To stay alive for. 

 

I feel this season of striving coming to an end. 

 

I am ushering in a new season of listening and receiving, rather than exclusively executing my will. Instead of a fist, and open palm. 

 

It doesn't mean I have fewer dreams or goals, it merely means I am ready to manifest them with a different energy, filled with so much gratitude and inner peace.

Listening...

Own Your Star

One of the most profound ways to fight Anti-Semitism is to live a joyful and proud Jewish existence. In times of hatred and annihilation, ✨JOY CAN BE A RADICAL ACT. ✨

So on this Shabbat, I welcome you to pause and fully experience your joy in any form it arrives in.
Dance.
Sing.
Make music.
Read poetry.
Be in nature.
Nourish your body.
Experience togetherness.
—Whatever makes you feel connected.

 

The Hillel International #OwnYourStar campaign was launched to create a public and shareable sense of peace, pride, community, and safety in Jewish students around the globe—by declaring our joy and “owning our star,” more Jews will know they are not alone in fighting the evils of hatred.

Shabbat Shalom, dear friends. 

Joy always.
Joy everywhere.