“PS. I bless you with all my heart”

Absolutely no words to encapsulate the experience of Our Class at BAM other than enormous:

Enormous was the challenge.
Enormous were the relationships formed
Enormous is my love of Rachelka
Enormous is my gratitude for having been a part of it.

Farewell for now, friends. 🎈

“PS. I bless you with all my heart”

 

The Eleventh Classmate

Originally published by Broadway World on 19 Jan, 2024

Stephen Ochsner as Jacob Katz

* 

Last spring, I came on board to participate in a casual reading of Our Class by Tadeuz Słobodzianek. Political polarization, disinformation, families and friendships in crisis over ideologies were front and center of all our minds that day:

How could ten ordinary classmates growing up through extraordinary times make such horrific choices, respond to traumatic events in such barbaric ways, inspired by so much fear and so little empathy?

The answers might be difficult to comprehend, but it is not hard to find contemporary evidence— it exists right before use every day. In the comments sections. In our direct messages. Across tense dinner tables. And screamed violently at parallel protests. It seems the global population have one thing in common for certain: we are all terrified.
And in our fear, we have all become more rigid, more intolerant;
    and far less capable of compassion, nuance and meaningful listening.
In that fear, is where our friendships, communities and wider societies begin to break down.

It feels virtually impossible to hold more than one truth these days, but it’s what I feel compelled to do. There’s the visceral: the outrage, the grief, the loss, the fear, the violence, the deaths, the horror. There’s the global proliferation of hatred from every angle. And there’s the relational: the how could yous and the how could you nots. Every day online and in the street I feel the pain going septic behind everyone’s rage.

In Our Class — ten Polish classmates — five Jewish, and five Catholic — grow up as friends and neighbors, then turn on one another with unutterable brutality; in traumatic, life and death consequences.  It is inspired by the real life events surrounding a 1941 pogrom in a small Polish village of Jedwabne.  

It is staggering.  Shocking. Stomach-churningly timely. We follow the lives of the classmates from the age of 5 through eight decades of the 20th century. It examines the nature of hate, and how we—as human creatures— have the potential for both brutality and love.

Yes, the play hits differently than it did last spring. Yes.

 FEATURING THE PERPETRATORS

    From the very beginning our visionary (Ukrainian-born and Jewish) director Igor Golyak told us what his most important concept was: it had nothing to do with visual imagery, playing-style or group dynamics. It was the central idea that we must not approach this play as a story that happened “back THEN, far away from here to and by people that are nothing like me.” We had to do everything in our power to center our own personal morality and humanity into the exploration of this play to make sure it was not a PAST-TENSE play. It was a PRESENT-TENSE play.
    Our Class is not history, it is our present and our future.

    We had to be courageous enough to reckon with that within ourselves.
How?
By making friends with confrontational thoughts.
Rather than asking ourselves
    “how could THEY?”
we were forcing ourselves into twisting our own psychology into an excruciating moral question mark:  
    “How might I? What would it take for me to behave in this way?”
By acknowledging that by the very nature of being human we have the capacity for great cruelty, we don’t distance ourselves from the perpetrators, we acknowledge that at any moment, we might very well become them, were the circumstances “just right” enough to push us over the edge of our own moral compass.
    It is—without exception— the most challenging, fully enacted moral exercise of my career.

Myself as Rachelka turned Marianna

This brings me to an interesting question on the lips of so many these days: how many more stories of oppressed peoples’ trauma (in this instance Jewish trauma) do we need to bear witness to? Haven’t we been through enough? How many times can we hear and see these stories played out and still not experience social change in a wider sense?

Fair questions. And I don’t have neat answers. What I can provide is an idea central to the import of Our Class: the featuring of the perpetrators.

Last week while speaking with a journalist, we discussed the rule in journalism that has become a kind of law— when an act of violence is carried out, do not feature the perpetrators, focus on the victims and their memory. Wise indeed in journalism— where we (at least we used to) get our neutral facts and information. No need to create cult heroes out of perpetrators of violence.

But art is a different matter. We look to artists to meet different needs within society— we “hold the mirror up to nature” and beckon audiences to examine themselves. More than just culture preservers, historians, or beauty-makers— artists have been crucial to social change, catharsis  and personal examination since the dawn of the art form in Ancient Greece. We need art in order to grow as a collective.

For the majority of the 20th century Holocaust art largely followed the focus on victims just as journalists did— it was almost a moral imperative as the last survivors were reaching the ends of their lives. Preserving the crucial stories of victims was the very definition of our collective sobriety toward hatred. It solidified a restored humanity in Europe and around the globe.

But by framing the Holocaust as a mystifying, totally incomprehensible evil to be exacted by “animals” we distance ourselves from the atrocities as impossible to see within ourselves. To view the events and the thinking that got us there, as— to quote Elie Wiesel—“the ultimate event, the ultimate mystery, never to be comprehended or transmitted,” we shield our consciousness from the absolute certainty of our own human capacity for evil.

Gus Birney as Dora

Our Class is no such piece of avoidance or moral circumvention.

Through Słobodzianek’s use of direct address, the audience is implicated— the characters speak not just to one another, but to the audience as the “11th classmate” asking over and over again the haunting question:

    “What could I do?”

Perhaps Słobodzianek is indeed asking us:
    What could we do?
    What are we doing?
    What will and might we do?
And perhaps most chilling of all:
    who are we to judge these characters if we never dare to fully observe ourselves?


That is what distinguishes this piece from others.

NEVER-FORGETTING

Every day I grapple with fear of forgetting. With the fact that I am two generations removed from the events of Our Class (and so many other stories I’ve had the privilege to tell on stage and page). I was not alive during the war — and these memories do not belong to me.


When people continually try to deny the reality of the Holocaust, being a dramatic story-teller complicates matters. These events truly did happen, and perhaps the fear is that if one makes it fiction, people will think it isn’t true.


But we have learned that the documents alone are not enough. A 2022 U.S. survey by the Anti-Defamation League found “widespread belief in anti-Jewish tropes, at rates unseen for decades.” In the first two months of 2023, attacks on U.S. synagogues increased 71 percent.

Second- and third- and soon-to-be-fourth generation storytellers from all genres — as well as those who are not direct descendants — attempt to combat this evaporation.

“Never forgetting” is a trope if it is not followed by meaningful action. And it seems that action is changing and shifting— as those charged with remembering inherit a different—but in many ways identical—world.



Despite challenging subject matter, Igor Golyak’s production features whimsy, music, laughter and even joy. It features 10 incredible performances by beautiful actors. It includes designers that are each the absolute top of their chosen art form— all coming together to tell this story with breathtaking beauty.

As my character Rachelka says:

“We all have our destiny. Our b’shet.”

Perhaps mine—at least in this era of my life— is a kind of theatrical never-forgetting.
We’ll see.

Turn Crumbs into a Feast

Hello darling one. Feeling creatively blue? 

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 hashtag career?"
 
Snore.

Instead of making insulting, jerk-like decisions about yourself and your life, stop using “never/always” statements and try asking yourself questions like these:

- Is this absolutely true?
- Have I NEVER booked a gig/ been in a relationship/ made money…?
- EEEEEVER?
- Am I truly always a trash fire of mistakes and loser-hood?

We’re so quick to decide that if we haven’t totally nailed it, standing-ovation-style, at a Sutton-Foster level of validation, that we suck.
 
Dig deep, look for where you have had successes, no matter how teeny-weeny, and build upon it! Tiny triumph by tiny triumph, micro bit by micro bit.
 
You decide what’s true for you, so if you aren’t staring at a reality that lights you up, change your perception, roll up your sleeves, and change your life—brick by brick.
 
Sometimes, we have to turn what we perceive of as “crumbs” into a feast. That's okay—it teaches us to be realistic, optimistic, and above all: innovative.

Everything is "Practice"

 When we view everything as a practice, we're reminded that we can begin again at any time.

There is no "too late".
There is no "too out of practice to try."
There is no "I'm not the kind of person who does that."
There is no "I haven't figured it out yet."
There is no "I need to become a new person before I can do this."
There is no "I can't.' 

There is just a decision to practice again. And again. And again. 

A noticing of what happens when we don't, and a choice to begin once more.

A dedication to awareness, which leads us to the practices we're wanting and needing more of. 

And an allowing of all of it to ebb and flow and shift and change and morph and take new shape alongside us.

 

Ask Al: Not all opportunities are created equal...

 Hello Al, 

I am a mid-career American actor and would appreciate your professional advice!

As background: I am a professional actor in my mid-thirties, I've performed leading roles in regional American theater, have appeared on concert stages, albums, and have covered multiple roles on Broadway.

I've recently changed agents-- a move I'm largely excited about! However, the very first audition my new agents have sent my way is what I would consider to be a really "poor match" for me and I'm experiencing concern. 

• Concern for how my new agents view me, 
• and for a possibly warped view of how I see myself
• concerned that my agent and I aren't on the same page 
  
• and for tarnishing new relationships by turning down an opportunity (however inappropriate I think that opportunity might be)

Do I take advantage of the base "opportunity to audition" even though the role/job is not one I want?

The project itself is something I have a lot of history with, is in line with my skill set, my personal history/identity, is with a company I would love to work with someday (perhaps on something else), and is indicative of the theatrical work I want to be doing. But the role I have been submitted for is traditionally played by an actor 10-15 years my senior, and as a woman in my mid-thirties, the role seems to be at odds with how I see myself both as a person and in the casting brackets of the industry.  

While perhaps I am indeed perceived as older than I regard myself and need to have a reality check, I think the larger concern is that my new agents and I aren't quite aligned. 

• Should I "suck it up" and take the audition? 
• Do I pass on the opportunity and not mention to the agents how concerned this makes me? 
• Or do I brooch a hard conversation with the new agents? 

I'm so conflicted. But equally, I'm surprised by how "emotionally activated" this situation has made me-- which usually indicates something deeper is at play—so I'm not responding with the clarity I'm accustomed to. I'd so appreciate your advice. 

Concerned

 

*

 

Dear Concerned, 

First of all, congratulations on being a mid-career actor in her thirties who is represented, working at what sounds like an admirably high level of skill and professionalism, and still passionate and committed to her craft in the prime of life! That's a lot to be proud of, and I mention it specifically because I think we often forget to appreciate how much we've accomplished and how far we've come—especially when we might be stuck inside a thought loop. So brava: you made it this far in your manifested artistic life. 

Next, rather than focusing on what the "right" choice is (because there is no "right choice"), my first advice is to get real quiet with yourself and get to the root of these activated feelings before trying to land on a preferred solution. 

Might this be about... 

• being perceived of as older than you are/feel/wish to be viewed and the judgements and emotions that brings up? 
• feeling misunderstood or misrepresented? 
• feeling anxious because you're a recovering people-pleaser, and saying "no—" especially in a new relationship—is extra challenging for you? 
• potentially being perceived of as "difficult" and/or "picky" or "a diva" by this new agent and the casting director and THOSE labels activate you? 
• a self-worth issue? ("who do I think I am to turn this down?") 
  
•  ...or something entirely different?

No matter the reason(s), getting real with yourself about the underlying feelings creating anxiety in this scenario will help you navigate it with better clarity. And I'll add—not ONLY this scenario, but future scenarios that activate your anxiety as well! (And as a post script: your identity as a female on planet earth does not make the above perceptions easier. Women do indeed fight stereotypes about being difficult/a diva/high-maintenance, that in men would be applauded as "knowing their worth" or "having standards...")

Finally, after you've done that, I'd "change the lens" on this for yourself and regard it as an opportunity to have a deeper, more meaningful conversation with your new agent about the kind of work you want to do, the way you wish to be represented in the industry, and to engage in meaningful dialogue about that in a back-and-forth that can only provide data for you both going forward. Just like a misunderstanding in a friendship or romantic partnership, these moments can be ignored and cause fragility, OR they can be the catalyst for a deeper conversation that gives everyone a chance to gain more understanding. 

Your agents might respond with something simple:

• "the casting director asked for you specifically and I felt obligated to send it your way!"
  
• "I figured why not? An audition is an audition, right?"
• Thank you for this feedback-- let's pass and then dig in to other opportunities! 

I'll lightly warn: there is the possibility that your agent will not respond positively, or with the open heart and mind of your design. They might get defensive, double-down, or use language that re-activates some of your fears (for example might say something like "you can't be so picky" or "a lot of my other clients your age are going in, why can't you just trust me?") That is a distinct possibility, and I offer that the quality of their response is equally good data for you going forward.

While opportunities are wonderful, not all opportunities are created equal. 

And while this audition opportunity is one worth considering, the opportunity for deeper discussion is one that should definitely not be passed up!

Al

I WISH (on its 4 year anniversary...)

I Wish — 7 • 24 • 2023 ✨

Four years ago I never would have dreamed that a random tweet on a weeknight could become a long-running series at 54 Below — one that brings so much joy, catharsis, laughter, wholesome uplift and community to its performers and its audiences. 



This is the twelfth edition (!!), and this incarnation took me by surprise: I was moved by the mere existence of it. 



Do you ever feel wobbly about your place in the world? Wondering if what you do or offer matters? Me too. 

But whenever I feel wobbly about whether or not I contribute meaningfully to the world around me, it isn’t the great big accomplishments or adventures that move me. It’s the friendships, the quiet moments and creations like I Wish. 

I always return to this humble little offering and remember that not all contributions are giant blockbusters, money-making or award-winning endeavors. Some are simply small acts of kind, excellent, consistent offerings of pure uplift. Some are merely the gathering of wonderful people in celebration of an art form and a community we love. 

And sometimes, that’s enough. Perhaps it is more than enough. 



Thank you to the I WISH dream team of our musical director extraordinaire Drew Wutke and producing wunderkind Jen Sandler — without you there would be no wishes. I love us. 



Thank you to 54 Below.

Thank you to this and every cast of I WISH. 



Keep wishing. ✨



📸: @james.t.murray

Jewish Represetnation in the Theatre Panel at BroadwayCon 2023

A few photographs and thoughts from the absolutely soul-expansive, mind-blowing, joy-forward panel on Jewish Representation in the Theater at this year’s BroadwayCon.

To sit beside this group of brilliant minds, talents and Jewish people was such an unspeakable honor, and to really comb through the nuances of the contemporary conversation was as illuminating as it was affirming. 

This was just the beginning for this brilliant crew (and many others).

1. I am not exclusively an “only mothers can play mothers” reductionist when it comes to casting and artistic expression. Buuut 

2. When the story centers around a character’s ethnic and religious-identity, is crucial to the fabric of who they are, and includes self-effacing parody OF that identity—then the casting of said identity is not only critical but to ignore it is actually harmful. 

Finally 

3. In these identity-forward times, the conversations around these issues are not always going to be directly parallel (ie a conversations comparing and contrasting the issues of various oppressed groups). It’s not the oppression Olympics. We must all breathe, LISTEN, check ourselves and remember that liberation is a GROUP PROJECT.

Thank you to Becca Suskauer and Ari Axelrod for organizing, and to Talia Suskauer, Brandon Uranowitz, Zachy Prince and Shoshana Bean for your heartfelt insights.

All photos © Rebecca J Michelson: also a genius Jewish person

 

Up up and away...

Oh to see the world from above—and by this man’s side.

When I was in the depths of my illness and then surgical journey, as part of many conversations shared with my closest people, Alec and I talked about the bucket-list things I wanted to make sure I did "just in case." There was only one thing that sprang to mind: to see the sun rise from a hot air balloon.

Alec moved mountains to manifest this bucket-list, absolute dream-come-true to celebrate making to my 40th birthday. What a gift to be alive and in the world.

Thank you, Alec. To feel so seen deeply and known is a great gift.

But for the record: anyone who worries this love might only exist between romantic soul mates? No no no. Not so. I personally have so many loves in life, and they take every possible form. I’m sure you do too, if you look around and let them in (allowing ourselves to be loved—in any way— is an act of remarkable courage). 

From up in the sky one gains great perspective—I think it is what I craved the most from the experience—problems don’t disappear, but they do become the right size. I feel so fortunate to breathe that lesson in.

 Onward. The sky truly is, the limit. 

(And of course, all hail, Above the Clouds balloon company in upstate New York)

 

Keynote Speech for The Mancini Awards, 2023

I stand before you this evening, in awe of the distinguished and hard-earned celebration each and every single one of you is reveling tonight.

Look at you! You are today’s young artists, and the human beings who will both shape and inherit the world we all share.  

Breathe in this moment, and know that more glorious moments like it— on stage and off— are ahead for you. Tonight, my friends, you are already living the dream. No matter what level of artistic professionalism you pursue, your passion for live performance, communal story-telling, the impact art has on individual and community, and the internal discipline and rigor required to execute art— have all sparked within you, and that spark is now lit eternity.  

I now ask each of you— adults included to take a moment, travel back in time, and remember the very first moments when your interest in your chosen field, hobby, interest or profession was first ignited. What is your WHY?

I am Alexandra Silber — and I am a Broadway and West end actor, singer and performing artist. I am also a concert artist, twice-published author and educator. But before I was any of those things, I was a gifted, deep and yearning artistic kid just like you.

Growing up outside Detroit, Michigan, my WHY for storytelling began young, when as an only child with a loving father fighting cancer, I was filled with unfathomable feelings and questions for a nine year old. I couldn’t bring those to my peers! They were nine! But I could “discuss” the depths of human experience with art. I could ask Tolstoy about love, Steinbeck about life. I could ask the musical Cabaret about prejudice, and Fiddler on the Roof about my Jewish identity. I could “discuss” fear with The Smashing Pumpkins, and grief with opera’s great heroines. I could ask theatre, music, books, visual art and poetry— art that belongs to us all— about the things I had no language for.

And when the time came for my father to leave this world, art was there to hold me—and everything I felt— too.  The Arts change minds, heal hearts, connect us to one another, and shape our collective culture. The Arts serve. That is my why. The answer to why I make art is because art held nine year old me— gave me language I lacked, and a place to express thoughts, feelings and realities on a stage when the real world was often too frightening a place.

The world is certainly no less frightening a place than it was when I was your age, but seeing you all tonight: I am filled with hope that the future is beautiful, and the future is bright.

* * *

Before I leave you tonight, I want to share TEN hard-earned truths I’ve learned along the way as an artistic human being. I offer these observations to guide you as you go forward, enabling you to empower yourselves, so that when the challenges of an artistic life catapult and hurl themselves straight into your heart – which they will do, repeatedly – you will have some of these tidbits of wisdom at your disposal to center you so that your SOUL will not be derailed, and, no matter the challenge before you, you can still summon the power to transform yourselves, others, and, indeed,  the world.

1. Happiness is not a train station
     On the great train ride that is Life Itself, we keep pulling into stations we expect, do not expect, and sometimes, loathe. Some of these are expected, some cannot be avoided, and some we’d do anything to avoid if we could.

     Have you yourself ever thought "Once I [get the leading role/make X much money/get married/move to Europe/lose 20 pounds] MY LIFE WILL BE PERFECT!"
...Anyone?
Me too.

But one of life’s great truths is that you never pull in to the train stations of “Contentment,” “Happiness,” or “Success.” THERE IS no train station with a sign that says “WELCOME TO MADE IT!” Those stations are like Brigadoon: sure, you’ve heard of it, and everyone talks about it and wants to get there, but no one has ever really seen it. Why? Because it doesn’t exist.

One of the greatest gifts you can give yourself, right here, right now, in this single, solitary, monumental moment in your life– is to decide, without apology, to commit to the JOURNEY, and not to the outcome. The outcome will almost always fall short of your expectations, and if you’re chasing that elusive, often deceptive goal, you’re in for a very tough road, for there will always be that one note that could have soared more freely, the one line reading that could have been just that much more truthful.

     So when I say “happiness is not a train station” I mean: there is no definitive moment where you do or do not “arrive” or “make it.”

As an artist, you will never arrive at a fixed destination. THIS is the glory and the reward of striving to master your craft, and being tireless in your pursuit of something greater than yourself.

2. DONE is better than PERFECT.
     Just do the thing.
Start.
Sketch.
Try.
Attempt.
Then finish it.
Press send.
Print.
It will never be perfect.
So do it!
Because done is better than perfect. :)

3. Remember the difference between DISCOMFORT and true PAIN.
Pain is your body and mind’s alert system that something is dangerously wrong and must immediately be dealt with. 

Discomfort is not dangerous: it is the birthplace of all growth and expansion, and cutting DISCOMFORT off (or misunderstanding / mislabeling it) hinders all possibility for expansion and evolution.
Knowing the difference between DISCOMFORT and PAIN, is what maturity is all about.


4. Not choosing is also a choice.
Remember that.

5. The artistic work never ends.
When things become overwhelming – which they will—I have found that the way back to your center is simply to RETURN TO THE WORK. Return to your skills, techniques and love of the art form. 

Whether you’re overwhelmed by success or failure, abundance or famine—get to work. It is there where you will find solace and truth.

Trust that you will find your way again via the music, the poetry, the colors, the movement. All art asks is that we show up, fully present as you did when you first discovered the magic. Bring that innocent, childlike sense of wonder to your craft, and always be willing to be a beginner. It will continually teach you how to be present, how to be alive, and how to let go.

6. It is not what happens to us, it is how WE CHOOSE TO RESPOND.
     People ask me really smart questions all the time.
Questions like:
    “How do you deal with being afraid of failure?”
or
    “How do you not worry about being rejected?”

I’m aware that this is a sort of irritating answer but: I deal with fear, worry, sadness and anger by actually dealing with fear, worry, sadness and anger.

We must try our darnedest not to identify AS the emotions, but to accept, incorporate, built grit, resilience; to learn what we can, and move forward in the face of The Big Feels.

In short: we can’t always choose what happens, but we can chose our response, and our actions in the face of life’s inevitable realities.

7. Courtesy costs nothing.
Even if you don't have pockets full of money— a smile, a thank you, and pleasantry— courtesy is a gift you can give every day.

 

8. Success isn’t about what you do, it’s about how you FEEL about what you do.
Period.

9.  “Comparison is the thief of joy”
Theodore Roosevelt — our 26th President said this. Remember that you are singular, and on your very own path that proceeds at its particular melody and tempo.

The world needs YOU. It is yearning, starving, dying for YOU and YOUR singular healing offer of service through your Art. We need YOU so that we never lose sight of the fact that we are all in this together and that we are all deserving of a life that overflows with immense possibility, improbable beauty and relentless truth. Your singular vision, experience, talent and perspective of existence thus, cannot be compared.

Do not let comparison to others steal the joy of your current reality. Teddy Roosevelt was more than a great orator, explorer, and environmentalist… he was also so correct about comparison. (He also had a very fetching mustache.)


10. Art is a SERVICE industry
Art CAN  be glittery, but you haven’t signed up for a life of glory, adulation and fame. (although that MIGHT come)

The truth is, you have signed up for a life of SERVICE by going into the Arts. And the life-altering results of that service in other people’s lives will NEVER disappear as fame unquestionably will.

You are here to serve the words, the music, the author, the chord progression, the audience, the characters you play that cannot speak or breathe or LIVE without you! But above all, you are here to serve humanity.

You are now servants to the ear that needs melodic solace,
     and the eye that needs the consolation of beauty.
          Servants to the mind that needs inquiry, 

               to the heart that needs invitation to flight or silent understanding,
and to the soul that needs safe landing, or enlightenment.

You are a steward to the blocked observer who needs to feel that vital, electric pulse of life that eludes them. 

You are a vessel to the angry one who needs a protected place to release their rage.
To each of them you will reach out, and generously invite them to soar and to thrive, because we are called to share this thing called Art.

You are also serving one other thing: your own truth. You are serving the relentless, passionate, fevered force within you that longs to grow and expand and feel and connect and create; that part of you that craves a way to express raw elation and passion, and to make manifest hard-core blissful rapture and fun.

That’s why “making it” is, in the end, utterly insignificant. LIVING it, BREATHING it, SERVING it … that’s where your joy lives.

Finally— BONUS lighting-round / hot tips: 11, 12, 13:
    - Dont Wash Wool.
    - Moisturize (and don’t forget your neck)
    - And believe me, I know what I’m talking about here: NOTHING staying in Vegas.


What an honor it is to share in this evening with you. Savor the moment then fly out of this building, armed with the knowledge that YOU make a difference, that your art is NECESSARY, and that the world is eagerly awaiting to hear what YOU have to say.

I look forward to working with every single one of you— 

See you at rehearsal.

I wanna talk about this hug with Samantha...

 

I want to talk about this hug with Samantha Masssell...

Playing Tzeitel in the 2015-16 production of Fiddler on the Roof on Broadway was one of the best and hardest 16 months of my life. While the public part of me soared in such a gorgeous production and beloved role on stage, off stage I was battling with truly debilitating severe ulcerative colitis daily.

I have a lot of people to thank for keeping me afloat and alive— my “Helens,” (the beloved wig room and creators of "the Cutest Pregnant Woman on Broadway!") my Hub Adam Kantor, The “Pineapples,” (a handful of the 30-somethings who were beyond there for me), but the majority of the agony happened in the dressing room I shared with Samantha—our beloved Dressing Room 51.

I am so unspeakably grateful that those health struggles are behind me now… it’s been quite the road to recovery.
 
But what forever remains is the memories of an incredible 26-year-old young woman who—with no training, and who never signed up to share space with a very sick person—bore witness to it ALL.
 
And even when I was very hard to love and be with, Sam stuck by me. We cried. We laughed (man how we laughed). We “kept it at a 10.” She listened. She saw. All of it.
 
Sam and I don’t have sisters in real life.
But the further away that experience gets, the more remarkable that incredibly young and remarkable Samantha seems to me, and the more truly sisterly her devotion.
 
In the business of show, there are a lot of glittering highs. A lot of unspeakable lows. But what remains at the end of the day is the friendships—more like family than could ever possibly be articulated.
 
So. Hug your friends. Tell them what they mean. We have such precious, fleeting, fragile days here on earth.

That’s it.
I just wanted to tell you all.
I love you, Doo Doo. X
 
📸: James T Murray (thank you SO much)

a thousand different ways to fracture time

Ah yes. Allow me to slip back into this space of long form words and simple pictures, and pretend like I have not been absent from this space for years. I miss it. Social media has burgled my attention and I miss you, dear London Still-- dear long form conversations, deep dives, and somehow more intimate space.

Let me write like no one is reading once more.

I think I would like that.

In the days when I first started this thing (also known as the Days of Yore) the days before an internet that--on most days--feels like a plague of its own.
 

If there are a thousand different ways to fracture time, I want mine in slow, long breaths. I want my time in crashing waves, late night talks, and forest baths. I want to parcel out our slices of time until we're tired and it's time for bed.

Oh February, you get me every time.

 

©Nick Bantock

 

Mixed Feelings

A thought: 

 

Experiencing mixed feelings doesn't mean you're failing or that something is "wrong" with you. I believe it is a sign of one's emotional maturity, depth, and the capacity to hold and examine a wide range of experiences, simultaneously. 

 

Mixed feelings are also a reminder that it's perfectly acceptable to hold space for ambiguity, for discomfort, for nuance, and for multiple-- possibly conflicting--emotions to be present at the very same time. Being able and willing tolerate uncertainty and ambiguity is the ultimate sign of emotional maturity.

 

All of our feelings deserve to be validated, no matter how mixed they may seem. It doesn't make feelings facts, but if we do not validate the reality of their presence, they will return, next time, stronger.

 

For example: 

- Being confident and driven doesn't negate feeling lost or exhausted. 

- Feeling focused and energetic doesn't mean you can't also feel distracted and uninspired. 

 

Navigating these mixed emotions requires grace, skill, distress-tolerance and above all? Self-compassion.