Things I would like to try someday - a List

Ride in a hot air balloon

Spend extended time in a convent or monastery

Travel for a month completely alone

Walk and drive from the top of South American to the bottom

Live for an extended period in Venice

Drink a wine I picked, smashed, fermented and bottled myself

Spend an entire day at the cinema

Hear Lilly play the Brahms oboe concerto live

Being part of a sacred ceremony of a culture I know nothing about

Scuba diving

Snuggle with a panda

driving a vintage car in the Woodward Dream Cruise

Archery (I have a feeling I'd be really good)

Driving a motorcycle…everywhere.

Speak Italian fluently

Jump out of a plane!

Being Mayor of somewhere I love

Visit Antarctica

© hula seventy

Me Too

“See yourself in others, then who can you hurt? What harm can you do?”  

— The Buddha

As human beings we often aim for recognition and validation.

As performers we naturally think that comes in the form of applause, of 'bravos' and super-human awe.

The trouble comes when the performer is tempted to show off in some way— there are times and places for virtuosity, but truly virtuosic art is always be rooted in truth within the context of a piece. Virtuosity for its own sake breeds a disconnected form of awe—meaning, the audience disconnects from the story, the narrative, the overall world, and, crucially, the believability of the character’s journey—they are merely impressed by you.

When you “belt an F” for the sake of it—an audience might gasp in awe, but if the belt is not connected to the character’s human need, it is the same as watching an athlete compete—inarguably impressive, but not truly why we engage with art. It is entertaining! And fun! And amazing! But it shouldn't be the ultimate goal.

Thus, I challenge every artist to want, work for, and aim for something deeper…

First, we must know ourselves. (And no, I'm not talking about self-obsession, solipsism, myopic me-monster-ing, or anything resembling New Age-y displays of self-knowledge). I'm talking about self awareness. About the recognition of personal mythology, patterns, proclivities, inclinations, fears, wounds, strengths, and weaknesses; and, more crucially, how they are interrelated to the universality of human nature. There is so much that can be gleaned from the exploration of the human self. Any human self. For in the search, we discover and unlock not only the mysteries of our own natures, but connections to human nature as a whole, throughout all of time.


Once we further understand our own selves, we can begin to engage with the glory of inter-personal relations through Empathy. Empathy is a human being’s greatest gift—the deep appreciation for anothers' situation, feelings, and point of view. It begins with awareness, understanding, feeling, caring, perceiving a similarity of experience, and compassion.

It is one of an actor’s greatest capacities for it is “other awareness,” a symmetrical companion to the self-awareness. True empathy requires us to identify with, fully comprehend, understand, and care about another. It is the basis for the golden rule, and our intrinsic sense of justice.

But my favorite definition of empathy is by the incredible vulnerability researcher Brené Brown, who defines empathy simply as the expression of “me too.”

Now, it is absolutely possible for these moments to be achieved during soaring high notes, big 11 o'clock numbers, and within the lake of tears that accompanies the big emotional scenes. But if those "high notes" are present for their own sake? If they are not connected to your actual vulnerability? Then this is what I mean when I say an audience cannot ever be anything other than impressed by your skills—the same way one might be impressed by the prowess of an athlete.

For you see, truly exceptional artists do not show off. They possess all the abilities to do so, but they risk the possibility of appearing (and I use this word with a huge caveat) “unimpressive” for the sake of the absolute truth. They begin by valiantly mining their own souls for every scrap of humanity—be it glorious, petty, sensational, ugly, magnificent, or shameful, and revealing it within the life of their character. They are willing to do a normally terrifying thing: to reveal. To truly connect. For great artistry is not about putting on proverbial masks to cover truth, it is about a kind of ultra-truth, something raw, deeper.

It is not always glamorous. It is not flashy. It is (more often than not) quiet. Revealing utter emotional nakedness is like the noiseless unzipping of the cloak we all use every day to face the assaults of daily life, and in doing so, we opening up our beating chest cavity and simply stand there, exposed.

“You too?” this posture silently communicates.

When an audience witnesses that kind of art, there is possibility for her soul to lurch in true human recognition:

—“Yes,” the audience responds, “That is me; that is my life too…”

Achieve that quiet miracle and an artist has fulfilled their ultimate calling.

So be brave.

Don't aim for 'bravo,' aim for 'me too.'

Ask Al: Trust Your Struggle

Dear Al,

I am about four years out of college / drama school. I moved to New York three months after graduation and have had some moderate successes since arriving, plus a couple of really close-calls! But mostly, it has just a series of disappointments—the competition is far more intense than I ever anticipated, and the atmosphere far more hostile. I’m pretty broke, basically a professional temp, and can’t even really afford to take the lessons or classes I feel might keep me in shape and inspired.

I wonder all the time if it’s as simple as changing my look/agent/ headshots/ audition material.
Or, if it is about completely re-training, moving back home and starting again.  Everyone in my life is desperate for me to “wake up” and change my path. But the thing is, I just feel in my bones like this is what I am supposed to do…

I’m banging my head against the wall and feel like a failure.
What can I do to change my circumstances?
Or is it about changing everything altogether?

I’ve read and been heartened by your blog for a long time, and would just love your perspective.

Thank you so much,

Daniel

*

Dear Daniel,

My sweet, courageously honest friend, you are NOT alone.

This was a brave letter to write because part of truly addressing a struggle is admitting feelings of defeat and frustration—those feelings are the birthplace of change!

These questions are faced universally—not just by struggling artists like yourself. The need for external validation, the constant feeling of being a pawn in the Chess game of Life, the “am I good-enoughs,” and aaaaallllll questions related to of life-purpose are experienced by all people, of all ages and walks of life, in every culture, since the dawn of time.

[*Thunder!*]

The details change, the feeling do not.

At the end of all the pesky details, that universal feeling boils down to this:

WHAT AM I DOING?

...Bummer.

The thing is, I can’t tell you whether your story is about your original dream, or about creating a new one.
Neither can your parents, girlfriend, or any random stranger on the subway.
Only you can do that.

Allow me to validate that there is NO SHAME in changing your path. There is a huge difference between "giving-up" and strategic disengagement. Changing your path does not make you a failure, it makes you a Motivated Badass, a Survivor, and a Winner. If you know you have gifts to give the world, sometimes it’s about dreaming new dreams and making THOSE happen! Again, that does not make you a failure, that makes you practical, gritty, and deeply awesome.

Here is the thing: it is far cooler to be the best Physical Therapist/Social Worker/Small Business owner/English teacher the world has ever seen, than yet another listless and unhappy not-actor cleaning their naval in deepest Brooklyn...

So. Just in case you were one of the zillion people concerned that changing the path = Loserville-Failure-Sauce, I am here to tell you: Nope.

Look. Even with all my ‘success” (which is a whole other blog post about what the definition of THAT truly is…) I’ve still had huge periods of self-doubt. On my more positive days I’ve:

• Talked that talk.
• Thought those attraction thoughts.
• Written letters to The Universe.
• Journaled
• Planned big plans
• Sat with a Jenga-esque pile of self help books threatening to smother my cat.

But I have also:

• Sat around so depressed on my sofa when I could have been doing something (anything)
• Made awkward first-impressions
• Done preposterous things for money
• Avoided meeting people altogether
• Seriously burdened my manager and mother
• Perfected my (suuuuper-special) knowledge of 90s crime shows on Netflix
• Padded feebly from the bedroom to the fridge in 'The Bathrobe of Shame'
• Been overlooked for things I thought I was completely capable of doing
• Stared at the black-hole that was my bank account
• Totally (and I mean totally) blown auditions like the fourth of July
• ...and silently cried when I couldn’t get an audition/ job/ date (and I really do mean that).

Essentially? I’ve been in Loserville myself.
Yep. Even awesome lil' ol' me who you are asking for “insight.”

If you’ve done all this too but are still confused, single, overweight, feeling like you’re being a total weenie, here are 8 tips I have for the spiritually downtrodden. 


1. Eyes on the horizon.
I, like every other human has had upsets and taken steps backwards.
It happens. It is a part of life.

I do a little exercise with my students. In their warm-up, I have them identify and name their deepest “want” for that day/class/lifetime—whatever is most appropriate for them in that moment. They say it out-loud, they re-define it if it is not JUST right, they say it again.
Then we visualize a horizon—a landscape meaningful to them which could be anything from a mountain range, a sunset over a body of water, an open highway, or even a treacherous road or a spooky forest path.
We fill in all the details—sights, sounds, smells, temperature, down to the qualities of light. Then, right on the horizon line, I have them put their “want” in the center and walk toward it.
Every step they take, they are closer.
There it is—something concrete and tangible like the next job or relationship; to something entirely abstract like belonging, freedom, love, wisdom, or hope.
After a while, they can see that they “Want” is in the shape of a living creature, one with eyes and a soul, and that want is greeting them with happiness and expectation.
Soon, they are face-to-face with their Want, making eye contact and communicating with it silently.

Then I ask them to keep their eyes locked with the Want—and take two steps backwards.
Can you still see your want? I ask them.
They nod. Of course they can.

The lesson? Two fold:
First, your next "thing" is ahead of you—it could be in the next 5 minutes, tomorrow or in a year, but it IS ahead, and every step you take, and every day that passes you are getting closer to it.
Second, even when you feel that you have taken two steps backwards, if your eyes are still on the horizon, it is all progress. You are endowed with the ability to choose whether you take another step back, remain still, or walk forward, but as long as you remain focused, you can’t lose.

2. You have to scare yourself.
And no, not in the mirror after you’ve pulled a double shift. I mean really scare the crap out of yourself almost every day in your deep place.

Get quiet and ask: what are you ACTUALLY afraid of?

• Rejection?
• Failure?
• Being scorned by your family?
• Being misunderstood?
• Laughed at?
• Some jerk’s “I-told-you-so?”

Or…

• Are you actually deeply afraid of success?
• Of being the huge superstar you know you can be?

Make a list of your fears. Challenge them. Address them. Then face them. You’re not gonna make magic happen from the lace-lined-bassinet of your comfort zone.


3. Don’t try to change the unchangeable
Attempting to change the unchangeable is a Sisyphean feat of wasted time and energy. Don't... do that. Hilariously, have you ever noticed that we always seem to think we are the exception to that rule? Somehow we convince ourselves that we are the super-human who can BEND SPACE AND TIME. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt.

Truth: There are things you can, and things you cannot change. Just for the sake of clarity, let’s go over those in detail, shall we?

Hooray! You can change:

• What you do
• What you communicate to others
• What you know
• How you choose to think 
• What you hope, dream, and aspire to. 


[*Sad Trombone*] You cannot change:

• The past
• The facts (skin color, sexual preference, white blood cell count, and, unless you are a criminal, your social security number)
• The laws of physics
• The weather
• The life and career path of any other person
• Human nature (yours or others)
• Personality traits (yours or others)
• Another person's deeply-held beliefs or thoughts (unless they choose to change)
• Who you are related to
• Human needs (you should eat and sleep in a shelter with roof and door.)
• Your level of innate talent (you can only improve what you innately possess)
• Things, which, for whatever reason, you simply do not acknowledge.

Recognize and accept what you can and cannot change, and move forward with your life.



4. Success really is preparation meeting opportunity.
So, you have to put yourself in the sight of opportunity (meaning, you can’t stay in your house binging on carbs and Breaking Bad… at least not every night...). That means networking, going out to career-related events, being informed about your world and your industry, and above all: knowing what you want so you can ask for it.

But crucially: You must be ready. All the time.

That means planning, skill-drilling, practice, fitness, readiness. For an artist, that looks like this:

• Devouring plays, films books, media and anything related to your passions and skills
• Practicing your art every day
• Staying on top of emerging artists
• Sight-reading (it is the first skill of an actor’s to get rusty—I read out loud every day)
• Constantly working on new songs and monologues (you might not need that speech or song today, but you *could* need it to be #onfleek tomorrow). I recommend having at least 5-6 contrasting speeches, and 6-8 songs ready to go at performance standard at all times... Seriously.
• Creating your own work and opportunities.
• Expand and improve your skills
• Being informed about, ya know, the actual world...


5. The more you give the more you receive. 
Thank you Ghandi, Buddha, Jesus, Moses, Martin Luther King Jr., and, oh, PHYSICS.
It's science, really: Give more. Get more.

Pour every last scrap of your heart and soul into a large collection of living, breathing human beings/animals/plants (such as a gaggle of beautiful, life-enhancing students) and your heart and soul will be flooded right back—most likely with interest. Giving makes you better at everything. 



6. Turn crumbs into a feast.
Man, we can be such jerks to ourselves! Have you ever had that mean-voiced ticker-tape loop in your head chanting on repeat that you have "never been in a relationship/made money/had success in your career?"
Snore.

Instead of making insulting decisions about yourself and your life, try asking yourself questions like these:

Dude. Is this absolutely true? 
Have I never booked a gig/ been in a relationship/ made money? EEEEEVER?

We’re so quick to decide that if we haven’t totally nailed it standing-ovation-style, that we suck.
Dig deep, look for where you have had success, no matter how teeny-weeny, and build upon it.
You decide what’s true for you, so if you aren’t staring at a reality that lights you up, change your perception, and change your life.
Sometimes, we have to turn what we perceive of as “crumbs” into a feast.
That's okay—it teaches us to be both innovative and optimistic.


7. The path to success is curved.
You will probably never be able to predict the exact path of your life. Why? Because life is unpredictable.

Also curved? Your BFA might not be a part of a linear success story from 5th-grade talent show winner to Tevye in High School, to Julliard, to glittering stardom.

It might be that your BFA is on the scenic route to your true destiny as an empathetic and world-rocking politician (like my beloved childhood boyfriend Justin Flagg who is kicking ass and taking names), or as a invaluable tigress for one of the world’s biggest consultancies (like my friend Jessica who is the moving to India to kick ass with her dashing diplomat husband). Or Vera Wang who changed her path from figure skater to world-class designer at the age of 49. 

Who knows what your true calling is? It might not even be an idea you've had yet.
So be patient and give yourself a chance to have it. 


8. Trust your struggle.
Your BFA in Whatever might not mean you are destined for Sutton-Foster-level validation.

Look at the unconventional artistic success stories like that of the glorious Billy Porter, Octavia Spencer, Samuel L Jackson and my one and only idol Angela Lansbury. These are great actors and human beings whose conventional "success" came later in their lives.

After Carnegie Mellon, Billy spent years (years) making art, writing, teaching, and being generally misunderstood by the industry, rejected over and over again, and then one day? Boom. Kinky Boots. Tony, Grammy, stardom.

Octavia Spencer was told she was weird-looking and “not for Hollywood.” Suck it haters: she now has an Oscar.

Samuel L. Jackson recovered from a crippling addiction to cocaine and heroin before landing Pulp Fiction at 46. He then went on to become Samuel L Freakin' Jackson.

And even though Angela Lansbury was nominated for an Oscar at 18, a Goldwyn girl, a movie and gigantic Broadway star, she wasn’t a complete and utter household name until she starred on Murder, She Wrote which she began at the age of 60.

Not to mention Ariana Huffington starting The Huffington Post at age 54.
Or Charles Darwin, who was 50 years old before he published On the Origin of the Species in 1859.
Or Julia Child who published her first cookbook at 39; and made her television debut at age 51.

Repeat after me: Trust. Your. Struggle.

No matter what this chapter is, trust that it is all part of the story, and it refines, defines, and ultimately: makes you better.

Thirty-Two

Thirty-two is...

• the atomic number of germanium
• the number of teams in the National Football League.
• the number of completed, numbered piano sonatas by Ludwig van Beethoven
• the freezing point of water at sea level in degrees Fahrenheit
• the code for international direct dial phone calls to Belgium
  the number of teeth of a full set of teeth in an adult human, including wisdom teeth

And...

• the total number of black squares, white squares, and the total number of pieces (black and white) at the beginning of the game of Chess.
• the number of pages in the average comic book (not including the cover)
• the Saros number of the lunar eclipse series (which began on June 11, 1691 BC and ended on August 9, 375 BC). The duration contained 74 lunar eclipses.
• the ball used in association football is typically made with 32 panels of leather or synthetic material.

Also...

• The Hindu scripture Mudgala Purana also describes Ganesha as taking 32 forms.
• In the Kabbalah, there are 32 Kabbalistic Paths of Wisdom.
• 32 = 11 + 22 + 33 
• One billion seconds is about 32 years...

*

So.
Being "one billion seconds" old,
having acquired one billion seconds of wisdom, learning,
and had one billions seconds of human experience, here I am.

I won't lie to you, reader. Thirty-one was a heckuva year. One filled to the brim with gratitude. One utterly overflowing with some of the most incredible professional, personal and artistic highs.
Highlights:

Kiss Me, Kate at Royal Albert Hall

Being nominated for, and singing at, The Grammy Awards with my beloved Cheyenne.

'I Am Harvey Milk' at Disney Hall with "sister" Andrew Lippa

falling madly, passionately in love with my highest calling: teaching. 

making my professional debut as a produced playwright.

playing my dream role, Eliza Doolittle

But, thirty-one also presented some of the most concerning lows in my adult life thus far. And while nothing can compare to the roaring tangle of grief, or the crack of life-altering heartbreak, this year I faced a new stratum of personal extremity: my own health was tested. Oof.

Me. And a pile of sexy sexy medicine.

When your own existence is challenged, you are presented with real some very real questions:

• What am I truly doing with this life I have been given?
• Am I living it, or merely existing?

and, to be frank, the ultimate question:

• ...Do I truly want to be here...?

This is not melodrama, I present these questions with the stark austerity with which they came to me. And while I know that appearances may have presented a glittering year of such exhilarating honors  to the outside world, within, things were in a quiet, invisible crisis.

Luckily, I discovered a hidden well—shadowed, tucked away so deeply in the folds on consciousness I had not yet heard its echo. That well contained a life-force—a serum so potent, it transformed every fibril within me.

I did want to be here.
Very much.

My favorite Psalm (spooookily, Psalm 32) says:

When I kept silent,
    my bones wasted away
       through my groaning all day long...

What I take from this is that "silence" of all kind, is spiritually expensive. I can no longer silence the full spectrum of who I am, or I will, in every day, cease to truly exist. So that meant re-framing my idea of (all-encompassing) health beginning at the cellular level, and that, dear readers, I have endeavored to do with the help of great (super strict!) doctors, teachers, healers, the care of loving friends, and especially the super-human 'Mama Silbs.' I am better than ever.

And, dear reader, though I cannot tell you yet, I have recently received a birthday gift beyond my wildest dreams. I will be able to celebrate good ol' thirty-two in a manner beyond imagining.

So. Here is what I learned long the way:

Trust your struggle.

It is all merely a part of the Great story.

Eros and Psyche

I am unspeakably proud to present a film version of the 'Eros and Psyche' theatre-piece our 12:15 Acting created as part of Pace School of Performing Arts first-year final Greek presentations at Pace University.

Starring Kevin Csolak and Bethany Tesarck, this classic tale is probably one of the most beautiful Greek myths.

Psyche was a woman gifted with extreme beauty and grace, one of the mortal women whose love and sacrifice for her beloved immortal husband Eros earned her immortality (as Greek word “psyche” implies, the deity of soul). Psyche symbolizes a self-search and personal growth through adversity, passion, loss, and pursuit of true love.

Enjoy the extraordinary efforts of my dedicated and passionate first-year students. They fill my heart and soul with every possible joy.

Playbill's 'Loverly' Time at The Muny

The Muny production of Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe’s Tony-winning musical My Fair Lady, which launched the summer 97th season at the St. Louis venue, was presented June 15-21. Leading lady Alexandra Silber (Master Class, Hello Again, Arlington) offers an exclusive look behind the scenes!

Check out the Playbill feature here.

The cast was led by Anthony Andrews as Henry Higgins, a role he played in a 2001 London production; Alexandra Silber, who appeared on Broadway in Master Class, as Eliza Doolittle; Paxton Whitehead as Colonel Pickering, a role he played in the 1993 Broadway revival; Michael McCormick, a Broadway regular in Curtains and other shows, as Alfred P. Doolittle; and Matthew Scott (Freddy Eynsford-Hill).

Directed by Marc Bruni, the limited engagement was choreographed by Chris Bailey and music-directed by Ben Whiteley. 

Trojan Women 2015

“Troy’s Gone…. Nothing to block the wind of Asia now…”

This play is not about Then, or about Now.
It is about Always.

‘The Trojan Women’ (Ancient Greek: Τρῳάδες, Trōiades), also known as ‘Troades,’ is a tragedy by the Ancient Greek playwright Euripides. It was originally produced in 415 BC. 415 BC was a savage year in  he lives of the Ancient peoples—the Peloponnesian War was in full horrific swing, the capture, slaughter and subjugation of the Aegean island of Melos by the Athenians, the scandalous desecration of the hermai were only a handful of gruesome events which may have influenced Euripedes.

The story of Hecuba, Queen of Troy and her devastated family has been imagined and reimagined with global and personal relevance, over and over again, for over two thousand years. These women are symbols, but they are such because we see ourselves within them.
Our anger. Our humanity. Our grief.
My intention was to turn these symbols on their heads, slice them open and revel in the drain of their universal humanity.

“Widowhood is grief but also chance, and falls of cities both finishes and starts. ”

For ultimately, Trojan Women is a play about loss.  But what is loss? Loss of a city is no different than the loss of one’s sanity, family, love, principles.  In the aftermath of any ‘war’— be it literal or metaphoric; we are asked to cleanse ourselves and begin anew.  War is our story because all men, throughout all of time, have the capacity to hate. Troy is no different from Rwanda, Dachau, Sarajevo, Syria, or our very own World Trade Center and Ferguson, Missouri.

“‘Helen of Troy’ was a triumph—a legend—
a Woman who made her mark upon Your World

—never mind if that mark was a scar. ”

We hear from Hecuba and her family—the mad priestess Cassandra cursed with a gift of prophecy that no man shall ever believe; Andromache, the widowed wife of Trojan hero Hektor (who symbolizes a collective loss not at all unlike America’s Jacqueline Kennedy); and Helen of Troy, the “most beautiful woman in the world” who bears the bitter responsibility of whatever it is society deems to currently be “beautiful.”

“Should we not reach down beyond the known for once?”

New to this adaptation are some additional characters.  The additions of the three goddesses responsible for the Trojan War—Athena, goddess of wisdom, Hera, goddess of women, and Aphrodite, goddess of love. Their presence offered the play an opportunity to self-reflect, as well as directly challenge the audience in the de-familiarizing styles of Brecht and Artaud. Also new is Creusa—royal princess of Troy and wife of Aeneas (noted hero of Virgil’s Aeneid). Her absence in the original always seemed intentional, and bringing her back into the scenery showed itself to be a necessary and arresting presence. Creusa’s singular personal agency as the one “Trojan Woman” to escape Troy of her own accord presents us with a crucial alternative voice. Finally, the presence of the two Greek soldiers Diomedes and Teucros—both characters from Homer’s The Illiad—gave us what is probably the most important new piece of humanity. What is a war story without its soldiers? Are they not victims too? They experience losses even as victors, and I felt it essential that we hear from them.

“It is not true that everyone wants to be Entertained…
Seeing agony, we are made greater.”

Finally, this play is brief.
But it is hard.
Art that means to shift our deepest conflicts is always hard work, and that hard work can be an honor.

Thank you for joining me, and my commissioner Dutch Kills Theatre.

Self Portrait APR.25.15

Ask Al: Recovering from your 'not-so-best' moments

Dear Al,

I just had the most embarrassing audition, and I'm having a tough time recovering / moving forward. It was so bad that they asked me to come back and do something else,  then I came back it was even worse than the first time…! I felt genuinely humiliated and don't know how to get out of this funk.


*

Dear Funky,

Okay first just remember you are going to be okay! Maybe not in an hour, maybe not in a couple of days even. But someday and soon this day will be a learning moment and nothing more.

Sometimes we have a LOT going on in our lives.
Sometimes we are distracted and have every right to be.

But sometimes we spend weeks on end on the sofa, unable to lift our limbs, watching Daytime TV, and cleaning corners with a Q-tip LIKEABOSS; our interests only in padding feebly from room to room, napping, procedural crime-drama marathons, and shoveling pre-packaged food into our drooling gobs…

…Oh dear.

Listen:
We all have an ‘off’ day or two.
We must be kind to ourselves and try not to torpedo into “I’m-a-failure" mode because of a bad day no matter how bad it FELT.

So! Here’s how to turn your not-so-proud moments into AWESOME-PIE.

When we get to that [hermit-bathrobe] place, we must do the following:

     1.) Stop talking. 

     2.) Look within—not outside—for the answers.

By spending time in silence, reconnecting with what I like to call your “Highest Self,” (i.e, the version of you that is your most compassionate, wise, understanding and non-judgemental) and maybe even having a chat with your good ol’ pal The Almighty Universe, you remind yourself that every single thing you need is within you. Worrying, doubting, forcing, obsessively planning, dramatizing, tensing up, bracing yourself, overworking….all this does is cut you off from what is naturally trying to reach you.

When we tend to that which is within, we allow the desires that we perceive to be outside of ourselves to manifest in the real world.

Basically: When you spend some time in silence, you emerge feeling like you can bend a bridge in half.

Then, when you emerge from Silent-ville, surround yourself in treasured friends who are smart, fun, and the good kind of tough-on-you, who are also ambitious about their own lives, high-vibration-y, creative smarty-pantses. Being around that energy will inspire you to take care of business, YOUR business to be specific. (Meaning: you don’t want someone to sit down in the muck with you who is also a muck-monster. You want a fellow kick-assasaurus.) For, you see, one must truly roll up their sleeves and reach deep into the plasma of their own ass-kickery… in order to…ya know, kick some…ass.

Cuz listen: rejection and sucking at things you are normally good at?
It sucks.
And boy oh boy, it always will—
     from crappy auditions
to horrible dates,
     from breaking bones while doing a workout DVD
to accidentally hurting a friend,
     from I-thought-I-knew-how-this-electrical-circuit-breaker-worked-BEFORE-that-fire
to I-killed-another-plant...
…All of the above, by the way, I have done—and I still consider myself to be awesome in general.

And while I totally understand that it is embarrassing and awful to feel like you did poorly in front of people that really matter to you, it isn't the end of the universe.
You didn't end up in prison
or get humiliated by the mass media
or tank for Steven Spielberg…
    and you know what?
Even if you did do any of those things— it wouldn’t be the end of the universe either.
Why?
Because of  little thing called the power of perspective.

Examples:
You had a bad audition
     and you will have dozens of other chances to do good work
     because you're a PERSON and allowed to have moments like this.
AAAAND
We’re not slicing brains or fixing Syria.
It’s professional pretend.

But on a grander scheme: people are not perfect and perfectionism is a very real form of self-sabotage directly linked to personal shame. If we can recognize and make peace with our shame, we can accept that perfectionism isn’t a realistic, attainable or healthy goal and incorporate our less-than-awesome moments with our glorious ones and recognize that they are all part of our over-all awesome selves.

But that said: it stinks.
This is your life’s work and you had a bad day.
But it is NOT  the end of the world.
It is an opportunity to grow.

I really really promise.

I know this because I both
     sang on the Grammys...

and set fire to my ceiling.

So lick your wounds, get back in that practice room, pick yourself up and keep going.
We can't nail it every single time. I've bombed more auditions than I can count.
And I'm still alive and have self respect.
…Maaaaybe not self-respect about keeping plants alive— but certainly in general. 

Al

x

A list of Right Now

currently:
1. homemade green juice
2. binge-watching awe-inspiring TED talks.
3. greek tragedies
4. the magic of my perfect, perfect bed
5. the post-daylight savings light in the winter palace around four o'clock
6. great empathy and compassion from treasured inner-circle friends
7. adorable care packages from Mama Silbs
8. Radiolab, TED Radio, This American Life, and my new discover: Love and Radio
9. catching up on heaps of theatre (American in Paris, John & Jen, Fun Home, Hand of God)
10. Tatiana being adorable (I brought her home a year ago this week!)
11. reflecting on how much I love the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland
12. dreaming of glasgow
13. dreaming of los angeles
14. trying new vegetables
15. thinking about my Pace babies. Always.
16. gluten-free deliciousness
17. drinking coffee. (delicious, delicious coffee...)
18. becoming more of a night owl
19. introverting
20. singing (and not-singing)
21. journal-ing (even when I don't feel like it)
22. copy-editing
23. clearing internal and external paths for new and better things
23. reading: chekhov, brené brown, susan cain, shalom auslander
24. working: spoon river, the seagull, my fair lady, all things bernstein
25. (re)writing: euripides, sophocles, and ovid
26. talent-crushing on patricia arquette
27. healing
28. waiting for Spring...

©hula seventy

'Effort at Speech Between Two People' by Muriel Rukeyser

:  Speak to me.          Take my hand.            What are you now?

   I will tell you all.          I will conceal nothing.

   When I was three, a little child read a story about a rabbit

   who died, in the story, and I crawled under a chair    :

   a pink rabbit    :    it was my birthday, and a candle

   burnt a sore spot on my finger, and I was told to be happy.

:  Oh, grow to know me.        I am not happy.        I will be open:

   Now I am thinking of white sails against a sky like music,

   like glad horns blowing, and birds tilting, and an arm about me.

   There was one I loved, who wanted to live, sailing.

:  Speak to me.        Take my hand.        What are you now?

   When I was nine, I was fruitily sentimental,

   fluid    :    and my widowed aunt played Chopin,

   and I bent my head on the painted woodwork, and wept.

   I want now to be close to you.        I would

   link the minutes of my days close, somehow, to your days.

:  I am not happy.          I will be open.

   I have liked lamps in evening corners, and quiet poems.

   There has been fear in my life.          Sometimes I speculate

   On what a tragedy his life was, really.

:  Take my hand.          Fist my mind in your hand.          What are you now?

   When I was fourteen, I had dreams of suicide,

   and I stood at a steep window, at sunset, hoping toward death   :

   if the light had not melted clouds and plains to beauty,

   if light had not transformed that day, I would have leapt.

   I am unhappy.          I am lonely.          Speak to me.

:  I will be open.          I think he never loved me:

   He loved the bright beaches, the little lips of foam

   that ride small waves, he loved the veer of gulls:

   he said with a gay mouth: I love you.          Grow to know me.

:  What are you now?          If we could touch one another,

   if these our separate entities could come to grips,

   clenched like a Chinese puzzle . . . yesterday

   I stood in a crowded street that was live with people,

   and no one spoke a word, and the morning shone.

   Everyone silent, moving. . . . Take my hand.          Speak to me.

© hula seventy

from The Collected Poems of Muriel Rukeyser. © Out of Silence: Selected Poems (TriQuarterly Books, 2006)

Another unsent letter

You

I've started this letter to you over and over again.

I doubt it will ever reach you, but nonetheless sometimes we must send these missives out into the world regardless——like birthday wishes, or letters to Santa; trusting that somehow, the sentiments will reach the party regardless.

I also realized that I don't know where you live. 
Well. 
That's probably best, seeing as I might have shown up at your doorstep a few times bearing my blood to you. And no, NOT in a romantic way——but in a 'Law and Order,' old-testament-y, creepy stalker, institutionalizing way; a way that would have probably alarmed even your pets… casual. 

The point is there was nowhere to send a letter to.
So. This is the result. 
I wrestle with the urge to share it all. 
Every. single. night.
...This.

 
What do I say? 

Glasgow was soul-rocking. I came alive again.
I swam in the Pacific ocean a week later despite it being 48 degrees in Venice.
I lost my voice—in every way.
I dyed my hair.
Oh, and we’ve made some beautiful art at school recently—
    The Seagull was a dream.
    So was Spoon River.
    The Greeks are proving to be exhilarating (we’re doing Metamorphoses and Oedipus at Colonus——both so gorgeous and human), ...And one day after class, alone in what felt like an almost holy circle of teacher-student, center-of-the-universe intimacy, Zack  played me two songs on his guitar with such calm intensity I thought my heart would crack in two... 
He had no idea how much I needed it. 
Or perhaps he did. 
Regardless, I don’t think I'll forget that moment as long as I live.

Then,
     today I bought a homeless man a cup of coffee and stuck around to drink it with him.
He just wanted some coffee.
But mostly to talk. 

...Which is of course, all I long for too.
 
To talk——really talk——as we did.
To laugh so thoroughly and from-the-gut, the cells quake.
 
I ache for it.
 
For you.
 
Ache to tell you all of this and more.
 
To have my mind held in the palm of your own.
 
To luxuriate in the exquisite torment of being truly seen as clearly as I was by you.

I've had dinner with others.
Sometimes more than dinner.
I play the role but wilt within...
 
    None of them are you.

And sure, I'll admit, I'm embarrassed by how cliché this all is.
    The blonde cheerleader taking a selfie while drinking a smoothie——    
     The cat-meme of unsent letters.
   
But, fuck it.
 
And you.

Your love has ruined me.
 
And mine for you has metastasized within my body like some kind of ancient sickness——I feel you in my muscles, infiltrating each vessel of blood and intake of breath down to my marrow...

I want to smother you.

Perhaps it all went a little too far.
And I still love, I regret to say.
A love unrelenting and juvenile in its intensity. 

And I still love.

A