Monday, April 30, 2007
Fresh
We all yearn for a feeling of freshness. Clean-washed sheets of life ahead, unsoiled, unslept in, and full of possibility. That smell of new-ness that comes not with a 2nd chance but with the 1st time ever...not a nearly- new rental, but a spanking new off-the-production-line virgin purchase, and its attendant smell of synthetic joy....the totally unknown where magnificence is possible....the unimaginable given space to live...the beach without footprints...but the thing is....someone has always been there before you.
There really is actually nothing new under this sun we live by....all of us are re-cycled starlight and the fact is each of contains at least one or two molecules of Shakespeare and Dante...we live, we die, we moulder and we disseminate into new beings, even as surely as we breathe the shared air. So, is freshness just a concept? Is there such a thing at all as a fresh start?
I think what we really want is ....Hope...Hope that there may be such things as beginnings...even though we feel as if life is nothing but endings...Hope that it matters......Hope that Love is a real thing...palpable as soft iris petals...We want Hope and in lieu of the unavoidable staleness of Life lived, we will gladly live in that new condo called Hope. (I'm surprised they have not built one called that yet on the lower East Side, charging $5 million for a one-bedroom. ) Clearing out. New seed in the same old soil still yields flowers. And some new seeds actually nourish soil back into health.
The way Nature has it set up, (along with Hallmark Greeting Cards), there is the possibility of experiencing Joy in the sheer act of believing it is possible. We believe our own press.
As described by a pal earlier today, mid-town Manhattan in the heat of the afternoon was a ludicrous human waste basket, roiling and stained and agonizing, while all around, and high above the heads of the masses loomed brightly colored and lit billboards saying that if you buy a certain sort of underwear or bathing suit, the stew you are cooking in will feel oh so much better....buy the right thing, and you will immediately be transported to where it is fresh and clean...even if only for the moment you experience carrying the bag out of the store....i.e. anything is possible if you wear the right shoes! Carry the right handbag. Purchase that perfect tie! And you, too, can be a star.
There are shows on TV now that absolutely glorify the idea that being ordinary can be a glamorous thing, and the more ordinary you are, the more "street" you talk and more foul s... you spew, the more fabulous you can be perceived to be. Glory in the gutter. Elizabethans would have loved it: the colorful use of language, the invented turn of phrase to mirror the bleeding soul....the sad unrest of it all. After all, the groundlings at The Globe never sat down! They roiled while they watched the first run of Romeo and Juliet! And boy, did they stink!
I have been feeling that lately. That sad unrest. And there ain't a damned glamorous moment in it....though there is an awful lot of stink!
Certain peoples' sad souls trail behind them with a certain odor. Like a rotting thing, once alive...but long ago....dead a while. Yet they walk among us, and commit a sin while doing so: the simple sin of lying. Lying about so much. Each waking morning a lie. But since they buy the same clothing the alive among us buy, advertised on those billboards above us, we barely recognize them walking. Every so often, though, there is that whiff. That odd olfactory understanding that some untruth is nearby. And we wonder why we feel so sad and bad. So unfresh. It's those people with the sad souls. I usually have compassion for them...lately I do not. Lately, all I want to do is to get away from them. Far away.
To where...yes...to where it is fresh. Possible. Alive.
Peter is writing such wonderful music for ROSE COLORED GLASS, the play being directed by Janice Goldberg that opens Off-Broadway this weekend. He is soooo gifted. His music makes me believe that fresh starts are possible. Perhaps that is the funtion of true Art: restoring belief. Hope.
There really is actually nothing new under this sun we live by....all of us are re-cycled starlight and the fact is each of contains at least one or two molecules of Shakespeare and Dante...we live, we die, we moulder and we disseminate into new beings, even as surely as we breathe the shared air. So, is freshness just a concept? Is there such a thing at all as a fresh start?
I think what we really want is ....Hope...Hope that there may be such things as beginnings...even though we feel as if life is nothing but endings...Hope that it matters......Hope that Love is a real thing...palpable as soft iris petals...We want Hope and in lieu of the unavoidable staleness of Life lived, we will gladly live in that new condo called Hope. (I'm surprised they have not built one called that yet on the lower East Side, charging $5 million for a one-bedroom. ) Clearing out. New seed in the same old soil still yields flowers. And some new seeds actually nourish soil back into health.
The way Nature has it set up, (along with Hallmark Greeting Cards), there is the possibility of experiencing Joy in the sheer act of believing it is possible. We believe our own press.
As described by a pal earlier today, mid-town Manhattan in the heat of the afternoon was a ludicrous human waste basket, roiling and stained and agonizing, while all around, and high above the heads of the masses loomed brightly colored and lit billboards saying that if you buy a certain sort of underwear or bathing suit, the stew you are cooking in will feel oh so much better....buy the right thing, and you will immediately be transported to where it is fresh and clean...even if only for the moment you experience carrying the bag out of the store....i.e. anything is possible if you wear the right shoes! Carry the right handbag. Purchase that perfect tie! And you, too, can be a star.
There are shows on TV now that absolutely glorify the idea that being ordinary can be a glamorous thing, and the more ordinary you are, the more "street" you talk and more foul s... you spew, the more fabulous you can be perceived to be. Glory in the gutter. Elizabethans would have loved it: the colorful use of language, the invented turn of phrase to mirror the bleeding soul....the sad unrest of it all. After all, the groundlings at The Globe never sat down! They roiled while they watched the first run of Romeo and Juliet! And boy, did they stink!
I have been feeling that lately. That sad unrest. And there ain't a damned glamorous moment in it....though there is an awful lot of stink!
Certain peoples' sad souls trail behind them with a certain odor. Like a rotting thing, once alive...but long ago....dead a while. Yet they walk among us, and commit a sin while doing so: the simple sin of lying. Lying about so much. Each waking morning a lie. But since they buy the same clothing the alive among us buy, advertised on those billboards above us, we barely recognize them walking. Every so often, though, there is that whiff. That odd olfactory understanding that some untruth is nearby. And we wonder why we feel so sad and bad. So unfresh. It's those people with the sad souls. I usually have compassion for them...lately I do not. Lately, all I want to do is to get away from them. Far away.
To where...yes...to where it is fresh. Possible. Alive.
Peter is writing such wonderful music for ROSE COLORED GLASS, the play being directed by Janice Goldberg that opens Off-Broadway this weekend. He is soooo gifted. His music makes me believe that fresh starts are possible. Perhaps that is the funtion of true Art: restoring belief. Hope.
Friday, April 27, 2007
What is "Grown Up"?
Was Alec Baldwin behaving like a "grown up" when he lambasted his 11-year-old child on a voice mail that has now become all too public?...the voice message in which he called her a "selfish little pig" and in threatening tones warned her to get ready for his forthcoming visit...where do little girls run to hide from their terrifying Dads? To a Nunnery? Do we still have Nunneries for potential Ophelias to run away to? And, even if the kid was behaving selfishly and sassily and ignoring her Father's phone calls, did Papa Alec , as the "grown - up" have the right to behave as he did? Or was his only sin the sad fact that someone leaked the tape to some sleazy on-line media site and he got caught in a fatherly rage?
What does being a "grown-up" entail, and when does discipline or telling the whole truth run over into inappropriate-ness and abuse?
I am pondering this question today for several reasons.
In Buddhism, we're often asked to examine our motives for the actions we take, suggesting thereby that it's not the action per se, but rather our reason for taking the action that informs its right or wrong-ness...all to do with the concept of karma and suggesting of course that in itself no act, however violent, has within it a badness....it is simply an act taken, and we ascribe the judgement to it ... there is a nobility in this concept because it puts the response-ability onto the person taking the action, purely and simply: it asks us to examine why we do what we do and to consider the consequences. And then to repsond appropropriately.
Is anger ever truly righteous? Of course, since we all feel it, and the feeling of anger is so enlivening...true connected boiling anger...there does seem legitimacy to it...a "yes-ness", "let me feel this...I am right! -ness" to feeling it. It is a powerful energy and is responsible for most of the great and horrible actions of mankind: anger.
Usually, if you scratch the surface of anger you will find fear and deep sadness. And those are, by comparison, weak and floaty feelings...not as focused or filled with impulsive energies...so we would rather feel anger. There feels like there is more power in it. Feeling sad or fearful makes us feel like victims. Putting aside the fact that we are all victims of the inevibility of Death, we spend most of our time believing we can find a way to live forever and feeling the power of anger is one way we do that. So, Alec ran off at the mouth and let his child know how he truly and really felt. How he allowed her to make him feel. What did she expect him to do ? Sit in a corner and cry? Weakly acquiesce to her childishness and permit it? Simply repeat acts of patience and understanding that have clearly not worked in the past? How much rope is too much rope? I HAVE NO ANSWERS TO THESE QUESTIONS...I AM ONLY ASKING THEM.
As I am asking myself what to do about a certain situation in my life that is engendering anger and sadness in me. Peter has been most wonderfully helpful, as has Paul D. and James C., but the dilemma presented to me (more on it later), is mine and mine alone to solve...mine alone to learn from. I am being asked to step up and respond in a way that is "right" and I am not sure what that is, so of course it is on my mind. I know that I don't want to hide away from what is required of me...i just don't know yet what to do. Along with the feelings already associated with certain events, and my having to feel them because there is no way I cannot, there is now this absorbing dilemma of how to deal with it!!!
Suffice it to say: it is not a dull time. I just wish I knew what to do. But soon, one day soon, clarity WILL happen! Even if I have to spend all weekend on the meditation cushion to find that clarity! Gosh: I do hope clarity is the point here....clarity about what it means to do the "grown-up" thing.
What does being a "grown-up" entail, and when does discipline or telling the whole truth run over into inappropriate-ness and abuse?
I am pondering this question today for several reasons.
In Buddhism, we're often asked to examine our motives for the actions we take, suggesting thereby that it's not the action per se, but rather our reason for taking the action that informs its right or wrong-ness...all to do with the concept of karma and suggesting of course that in itself no act, however violent, has within it a badness....it is simply an act taken, and we ascribe the judgement to it ... there is a nobility in this concept because it puts the response-ability onto the person taking the action, purely and simply: it asks us to examine why we do what we do and to consider the consequences. And then to repsond appropropriately.
Is anger ever truly righteous? Of course, since we all feel it, and the feeling of anger is so enlivening...true connected boiling anger...there does seem legitimacy to it...a "yes-ness", "let me feel this...I am right! -ness" to feeling it. It is a powerful energy and is responsible for most of the great and horrible actions of mankind: anger.
Usually, if you scratch the surface of anger you will find fear and deep sadness. And those are, by comparison, weak and floaty feelings...not as focused or filled with impulsive energies...so we would rather feel anger. There feels like there is more power in it. Feeling sad or fearful makes us feel like victims. Putting aside the fact that we are all victims of the inevibility of Death, we spend most of our time believing we can find a way to live forever and feeling the power of anger is one way we do that. So, Alec ran off at the mouth and let his child know how he truly and really felt. How he allowed her to make him feel. What did she expect him to do ? Sit in a corner and cry? Weakly acquiesce to her childishness and permit it? Simply repeat acts of patience and understanding that have clearly not worked in the past? How much rope is too much rope? I HAVE NO ANSWERS TO THESE QUESTIONS...I AM ONLY ASKING THEM.
As I am asking myself what to do about a certain situation in my life that is engendering anger and sadness in me. Peter has been most wonderfully helpful, as has Paul D. and James C., but the dilemma presented to me (more on it later), is mine and mine alone to solve...mine alone to learn from. I am being asked to step up and respond in a way that is "right" and I am not sure what that is, so of course it is on my mind. I know that I don't want to hide away from what is required of me...i just don't know yet what to do. Along with the feelings already associated with certain events, and my having to feel them because there is no way I cannot, there is now this absorbing dilemma of how to deal with it!!!
Suffice it to say: it is not a dull time. I just wish I knew what to do. But soon, one day soon, clarity WILL happen! Even if I have to spend all weekend on the meditation cushion to find that clarity! Gosh: I do hope clarity is the point here....clarity about what it means to do the "grown-up" thing.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Anger
...what is it? What is anger? While meditating on this question last night, - what is anger - the first thing that came up was a color: red. Anger is red. Then shape: anger seemed to me to be a a big red block...a square shaped block. Bright red, filling all the space with its size and bulk. Further meditation: anger is fear....what do i fear? ...the red block begins to dissolve into air...what is fear? Fear is Ego....what is Ego? Ego is, of course, Illusion...the ilusion that we are separate...the illusion that there is a solid "I" that can be angered or hurt...so anger is Illusion? It sure as hell feels real enough, right?
But it's interesting what sitting on the cushion and meditating (as deeply as emotions allow you to meditate) on a subject as fraught as anger can do....the seemingly solid state seems to indeed dissolve...and become, truthfully, nothing.
Ego is an interesting topic to think about. The sort of anger that seems to rule the world is so filled with the idea that what "I" think is righter than what "you" think...that "I" am right and "you" are so very wrong. That "you" do what "you" do and therefore can harm "me"...and so the world runs....Ego driven to the nth degree...Ego destroys everything in its path....Ego is pure insanity. Yet, you say, Ego is healthy and differentiates the one from the other...makes a person strive for his or her own territory. Ego is drive and drive accomplishes what must get done. I say: LOVE does that. Not Ego. It may feel like Ego...and our fears and doubts may wrap the impulse up in Ego, but the initial impulse is Love...wanting to share and grow. I have to velieve this. It's the warmth of the campfire we all want to sit around that makes the defending of the campfire seem so important....so rather than make the campfire larger, we fight to keep others from it. This happens a lot.
SO. Anger. Hmmmm....anger. Murderous, hurtfilled, aggrieved, egocentric anger. One of the less pleasant human conditions.
Gorgeous day is dawning out there in this city,......Paul and Steve return soon from their Florida soujour, only to turn round and fly out to San Francisco soon....Peter and Iwere going to join them on that part of the adventure, but have decided to stay home and tend our fires here,.....see the City into Spring. I want to see Museums in May and catch up on art! What do you want to do?
But it's interesting what sitting on the cushion and meditating (as deeply as emotions allow you to meditate) on a subject as fraught as anger can do....the seemingly solid state seems to indeed dissolve...and become, truthfully, nothing.
Ego is an interesting topic to think about. The sort of anger that seems to rule the world is so filled with the idea that what "I" think is righter than what "you" think...that "I" am right and "you" are so very wrong. That "you" do what "you" do and therefore can harm "me"...and so the world runs....Ego driven to the nth degree...Ego destroys everything in its path....Ego is pure insanity. Yet, you say, Ego is healthy and differentiates the one from the other...makes a person strive for his or her own territory. Ego is drive and drive accomplishes what must get done. I say: LOVE does that. Not Ego. It may feel like Ego...and our fears and doubts may wrap the impulse up in Ego, but the initial impulse is Love...wanting to share and grow. I have to velieve this. It's the warmth of the campfire we all want to sit around that makes the defending of the campfire seem so important....so rather than make the campfire larger, we fight to keep others from it. This happens a lot.
SO. Anger. Hmmmm....anger. Murderous, hurtfilled, aggrieved, egocentric anger. One of the less pleasant human conditions.
Gorgeous day is dawning out there in this city,......Paul and Steve return soon from their Florida soujour, only to turn round and fly out to San Francisco soon....Peter and Iwere going to join them on that part of the adventure, but have decided to stay home and tend our fires here,.....see the City into Spring. I want to see Museums in May and catch up on art! What do you want to do?
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Adam Sandler and ME!
Yep...got a call today from my agent Gary.....I auditioned a week or so ago for a new Adam S. film...read and put several scenes on tape here in NYC...well, Gary called today to tell me that Adam's "people" called and said he loved my tapes and is really interested in me for the role...it is a major role in the movie, and i cannot for one minute believe that they will not get an experienced film actress, with comedies to her credit....in fact, if I were them, I would pick an actress with film experience...I have had none - but for now, at leat, I'm on what they hesitatingly called "soft hold" for July and August to shoot this movie - this very funny movie - here in NYC!
Gary could hardly contain his glee...he always feels so good for his clients ....and i was delighted that my feeling about the taping was confirmed...it did feel good to me...fun...and right...but i am so used to things feeling right and not booking them - and of course I probably will not book this - but it's good to know I was perceived and recieved well by a young comic actor whose work i have always admired...I like Adam sandler's heart...and how he allows it into his film comedies.
So - I am on "soft hold"...and it feels nice. I can only imagine how "hard hold" feels....probably financial....it probably feels contractual....monetary.
In any event, Spring has finally arrived here and the City has been delirious with relief. Fairly floating above the pavement, the entire City. And my NYU semester soon ends...I am glad.
Though I shall teach privately, singly and groups, and look forward to working with certain young actors very much, I am ready for a schedule change and it will happen soon. I want to take May very easy. If i can.
Peter's last day at Inductis is tomrrow...he then dives heavily into finishing composing music for Janice Goldberg's ROSE COLORED GLASS Off-Broadway....and into a film score composition workshop over the weekend. I have one more Grad Recital to oversee, and one more class on Monday morning, then FREEDOM! (Relatively speaking).
SO...hmmmm. this late in life, will i become a movie STAR???? Hmmmmmm......let's see...what shall I BUY!???!
Just kidding....in fact, Peter and I are cleaning out this huge apartment and getting rid of all we can...we are tired of piles and more piles...tired of hoarding things we never use and never will...for my Birthday, he cleaned out from under his desk! And in so doing, discovered so many things he had thought lost! I need to do the same....closets are calling....
Ann J. thank you. Your note was so dear. I miss you.
Gary could hardly contain his glee...he always feels so good for his clients ....and i was delighted that my feeling about the taping was confirmed...it did feel good to me...fun...and right...but i am so used to things feeling right and not booking them - and of course I probably will not book this - but it's good to know I was perceived and recieved well by a young comic actor whose work i have always admired...I like Adam sandler's heart...and how he allows it into his film comedies.
So - I am on "soft hold"...and it feels nice. I can only imagine how "hard hold" feels....probably financial....it probably feels contractual....monetary.
In any event, Spring has finally arrived here and the City has been delirious with relief. Fairly floating above the pavement, the entire City. And my NYU semester soon ends...I am glad.
Though I shall teach privately, singly and groups, and look forward to working with certain young actors very much, I am ready for a schedule change and it will happen soon. I want to take May very easy. If i can.
Peter's last day at Inductis is tomrrow...he then dives heavily into finishing composing music for Janice Goldberg's ROSE COLORED GLASS Off-Broadway....and into a film score composition workshop over the weekend. I have one more Grad Recital to oversee, and one more class on Monday morning, then FREEDOM! (Relatively speaking).
SO...hmmmm. this late in life, will i become a movie STAR???? Hmmmmmm......let's see...what shall I BUY!???!
Just kidding....in fact, Peter and I are cleaning out this huge apartment and getting rid of all we can...we are tired of piles and more piles...tired of hoarding things we never use and never will...for my Birthday, he cleaned out from under his desk! And in so doing, discovered so many things he had thought lost! I need to do the same....closets are calling....
Ann J. thank you. Your note was so dear. I miss you.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
This One's For Momma
I've never had a child...never even been pregnant...not even once....and, considering how free-loving I was in my youth, this fact is either a minor miracle, or a karmic destiny: I was never meant to be a Mother.....so the only perspective I have on the subject of "Birth" is that , over 5 decades ago, I came out of my Momma's womb as the result of one: my birth. My birth into this lifetime. My short span of time, allotted solely to me, for whatever purposes i was fated for, and Momma, carried me to this specific destiny. Thank you, Momma.
So far, it has been a very interesting cavalcade of years, and, as birthdays go, this one is probably my happiest ever... as human history often shows us, that is an amazing thing to be able to say: that this present moment in time is my happiest ever. For that fact alone, I offer my gratitude and conscious acknowledgement: thank you, to Whoever...Whatever...thank you.
I dedicate this one to my Momma, because I know of no one else to whom my singular happiness mattered more: my Momma wanted my happiness above all else....and she shared in every juicy moment, for as long as she could. Once, when we were calmly discussing the Great Inevitable, when I first began to understand that it was important to talk about Death with the person who gave me Life, I asked her how she felt about it, whenever it may come for her. And her reply was: "The only thing I'll miss, when I go, is not being able to know what is coming next for you! Not being able to share in it with you. I will miss knowing you, my daughter." She made it clear that I made her life interesting, more fun to live. She really wanted my life to be good. And full. And fine.
Well, Momma, if you're watching or listening: it is. And has been. The only thing missing is you. I think I could be a better friend to you now. A better daughter. I know more. Have grown in ways you always had faith I would grow in, and it would be so much fun to share this part with you. I miss you. Richard and I have grown closer. We talk like adults, and even make each other laugh on a regular basis, in one way or another. Your grand-daughter Rachel is a terrific woman, and I see her regularly as well, thanks to the family we all have created here in NYC...she still calls Paul "Uncle Paul" and Peter and she are good pals...I like her so much. A strong creative woman, making her way. So much joy to share with you. And for my Birthday today, that is what I want to do: let you know it is turning out well, and that I see purpose and meaning in living a life, as you always taught me.
This blog entry today is my prayer of thanks and love to you. To the one and only you: my Momma.
So far, it has been a very interesting cavalcade of years, and, as birthdays go, this one is probably my happiest ever... as human history often shows us, that is an amazing thing to be able to say: that this present moment in time is my happiest ever. For that fact alone, I offer my gratitude and conscious acknowledgement: thank you, to Whoever...Whatever...thank you.
I dedicate this one to my Momma, because I know of no one else to whom my singular happiness mattered more: my Momma wanted my happiness above all else....and she shared in every juicy moment, for as long as she could. Once, when we were calmly discussing the Great Inevitable, when I first began to understand that it was important to talk about Death with the person who gave me Life, I asked her how she felt about it, whenever it may come for her. And her reply was: "The only thing I'll miss, when I go, is not being able to know what is coming next for you! Not being able to share in it with you. I will miss knowing you, my daughter." She made it clear that I made her life interesting, more fun to live. She really wanted my life to be good. And full. And fine.
Well, Momma, if you're watching or listening: it is. And has been. The only thing missing is you. I think I could be a better friend to you now. A better daughter. I know more. Have grown in ways you always had faith I would grow in, and it would be so much fun to share this part with you. I miss you. Richard and I have grown closer. We talk like adults, and even make each other laugh on a regular basis, in one way or another. Your grand-daughter Rachel is a terrific woman, and I see her regularly as well, thanks to the family we all have created here in NYC...she still calls Paul "Uncle Paul" and Peter and she are good pals...I like her so much. A strong creative woman, making her way. So much joy to share with you. And for my Birthday today, that is what I want to do: let you know it is turning out well, and that I see purpose and meaning in living a life, as you always taught me.
This blog entry today is my prayer of thanks and love to you. To the one and only you: my Momma.
Evalyn: Today’s The Day…
I have it on good authority that Birthday, meaning the anniversary of one’s birth, is really, really old. Genesis 40:20 states, “And it came to pass the third day, which was Pharaoh’s birthday, that he made a feast unto all his servants.”It’s old in English literature, too. In 1382 (somewhat past the Medieval, it’s true) John Wyclif used the word in his translation of Mark 6:21, “Eroude in his birthe-day made a soper to the princes.”
In Julius Caesar, Cassius tells Messala on the plains of Philippi, “This is my birth-day; as this very day was Cassius born.”
Dear Sis: I hope you have a great time. If you’re feeling expansive, you could make a feast unto all your servants. Want something more intimate? Perhaps you and Peter will celebrate with a quiet soper.
Either way, Happye Birthe-day, Evalyn.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Worth The Wait?
I would say so. Today, there is nary a cloud in the blue city sky,the air is fair and seems fresh, and the temperatures will reach low '70's all weekend: dare we say that Spring is here? Dare we believe in anything anymore?
Yes, of course, we must.
Connie, thank you for your response to a couple of blogs ago. It's just good to know that you and I are being in touch at all, since those good Barter days, but it's especially pleasing for me to know you "read" me, so to speak...but then again, you always did. Hope you're well.
Earlier today, a talented Steinhardt Grad student emailed me, asked a question based on a dressing-room discussion a bunch of us were having yesterday, and here's how i answered it...he said he was trying to sort out what he was supposed to do with all the feelings and thoughts he was having concerning the Virginia Tech murders...what was he supposed to do?
... your note is much appreciated...thank you, Tim.
Love...that's the thing... It always seems to be the bottom line of every discussion about anything human...so in the midst of this impotent hate, fear, rage, sadness....with the most broken of hearts, we are meant to forgive this sad monster who killed...It is not my intention in ANY way to trivialize what has occurred, but finally, with every dreadful lesson sent our way, we are meant to grow into larger, better beings and for actors that means walking into each audition with a heartful of fear and transmuting that fear into generosity and focus, on the work of the material we are giving them..By diving into the words and music we choose, we are partnering with other artists who wrote so that we could communicate with others....that is the one thing this sad murderer could never do...communicate...what if the young man had been forced to study voice, and made to sing?....I wonder what healing that might have brought about...in any event, what we are always meant to take away from every thing in our lives? Strengthening of our ability to forgive and keep on loving, while fully feeling the entire rainbow of emotions we are gifted to feel, thus experiencing how close hate is to love, rage is to happiness, upset is to calm...how else can we expect ourselves to communicate the human condition? And finally, that is our job, and our mission.
And that is part of what I wrote to him.
Finally, we are all meant to exist on this planet together, and as anyone who has ever lived with even one other person can tell you: that is hard to do. So we are being asked to do the seemingly impossible: co-habitate with a large group in a small space. This boy created painful havoc out of everything we know to be good and right, and he destroyed life in a savage, painful, focused and terrifying way. How can we ever forgive him? How is that even remotely possible? Living a full life means having to do the impossible so much of the time, and as exhausting as that may seem to us, it is nonetheless what is required of us. All of us.
Tomorrow is my birthday. Peter has stayed home from his office today, working at his desk instead, so we can begin a nice Birthday Weekend together early! YAY! And the sun, the glorious sun, is finally shining! Apres le deluge!
Yes, of course, we must.
Connie, thank you for your response to a couple of blogs ago. It's just good to know that you and I are being in touch at all, since those good Barter days, but it's especially pleasing for me to know you "read" me, so to speak...but then again, you always did. Hope you're well.
Earlier today, a talented Steinhardt Grad student emailed me, asked a question based on a dressing-room discussion a bunch of us were having yesterday, and here's how i answered it...he said he was trying to sort out what he was supposed to do with all the feelings and thoughts he was having concerning the Virginia Tech murders...what was he supposed to do?
... your note is much appreciated...thank you, Tim.
Love...that's the thing... It always seems to be the bottom line of every discussion about anything human...so in the midst of this impotent hate, fear, rage, sadness....with the most broken of hearts, we are meant to forgive this sad monster who killed...It is not my intention in ANY way to trivialize what has occurred, but finally, with every dreadful lesson sent our way, we are meant to grow into larger, better beings and for actors that means walking into each audition with a heartful of fear and transmuting that fear into generosity and focus, on the work of the material we are giving them..By diving into the words and music we choose, we are partnering with other artists who wrote so that we could communicate with others....that is the one thing this sad murderer could never do...communicate...what if the young man had been forced to study voice, and made to sing?....I wonder what healing that might have brought about...in any event, what we are always meant to take away from every thing in our lives? Strengthening of our ability to forgive and keep on loving, while fully feeling the entire rainbow of emotions we are gifted to feel, thus experiencing how close hate is to love, rage is to happiness, upset is to calm...how else can we expect ourselves to communicate the human condition? And finally, that is our job, and our mission.
And that is part of what I wrote to him.
Finally, we are all meant to exist on this planet together, and as anyone who has ever lived with even one other person can tell you: that is hard to do. So we are being asked to do the seemingly impossible: co-habitate with a large group in a small space. This boy created painful havoc out of everything we know to be good and right, and he destroyed life in a savage, painful, focused and terrifying way. How can we ever forgive him? How is that even remotely possible? Living a full life means having to do the impossible so much of the time, and as exhausting as that may seem to us, it is nonetheless what is required of us. All of us.
Tomorrow is my birthday. Peter has stayed home from his office today, working at his desk instead, so we can begin a nice Birthday Weekend together early! YAY! And the sun, the glorious sun, is finally shining! Apres le deluge!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
The "Point", After All....
....is growth....the point of all we go through, all we endure, both on a large scale or a small, is our own intimate, personal, spiritual, artisitic and practical growth...so that we can say we have travelled from Point A to Point B, or maybe even all the way to Point Z....but not only be able to say we have travelled, but that we are now a different person, somehow, from the one that started the journey. A stronger, more passionate, compassionate, more communicative human being....
At Steinhardt Program Meeting yesterday (the entire Music School divides its student body into weekly gatherings , a brilliant idea, really) and topics are discussed, classes present work,etc, and it's a chance for the entire body to feel part of something. I love these Wednesday Program Meetings. I love watching the students confront their fears, when they are required to perform, and above all i love watching their obvious, though often puzzling, road to growth...puzzling because true growth is most often not in a straight line....the road curves, dips ,takes detours and sometimes seem to abruptly stop! Weather conditions vary along this road, and there are times when stopping to take shelter is necessary.....and that is when we see the student revert back to habitual behaviors...sometimes i think teachers take that as a sign of the students' stubborn-ness or recalcitrance...or even,at times, lack of talent...NOT TRUE...
It's the student tracking their own progress the only way they can do....so i have come to appreciate even the smallest increment of progress: one inch for one student can equal a mile for another....yesterday, I watched practically every single one of my students pushed forward, showed something they had never shown before,dared to be brave and attempt new things...took a deep breath and plunged....I was, as ever, proud of them. And grateful.
Introducing what we were about to perform for them, I asked that we take a minute of silence and breathe a prayer for the Virginia Tech students, alive and not. It felt important to the gathered body of kids and faculty for us to do so. I know I simply had to. And I am glad I did, because it made me feel better. Turns out this poor messed-up guy, this young killer, was a boy filled with demons that had been plaguing him for years and years....no one sufficiently understood this along the way, (after all, who among us really wants to take the time to face Evil, gird for the battle and go into it?) and so this is a boy we all lost to the very Darkest of the Dark. He fell young, and no one was able to catch him.
We must strive to develop stronger arms.
At Steinhardt Program Meeting yesterday (the entire Music School divides its student body into weekly gatherings , a brilliant idea, really) and topics are discussed, classes present work,etc, and it's a chance for the entire body to feel part of something. I love these Wednesday Program Meetings. I love watching the students confront their fears, when they are required to perform, and above all i love watching their obvious, though often puzzling, road to growth...puzzling because true growth is most often not in a straight line....the road curves, dips ,takes detours and sometimes seem to abruptly stop! Weather conditions vary along this road, and there are times when stopping to take shelter is necessary.....and that is when we see the student revert back to habitual behaviors...sometimes i think teachers take that as a sign of the students' stubborn-ness or recalcitrance...or even,at times, lack of talent...NOT TRUE...
It's the student tracking their own progress the only way they can do....so i have come to appreciate even the smallest increment of progress: one inch for one student can equal a mile for another....yesterday, I watched practically every single one of my students pushed forward, showed something they had never shown before,dared to be brave and attempt new things...took a deep breath and plunged....I was, as ever, proud of them. And grateful.
Introducing what we were about to perform for them, I asked that we take a minute of silence and breathe a prayer for the Virginia Tech students, alive and not. It felt important to the gathered body of kids and faculty for us to do so. I know I simply had to. And I am glad I did, because it made me feel better. Turns out this poor messed-up guy, this young killer, was a boy filled with demons that had been plaguing him for years and years....no one sufficiently understood this along the way, (after all, who among us really wants to take the time to face Evil, gird for the battle and go into it?) and so this is a boy we all lost to the very Darkest of the Dark. He fell young, and no one was able to catch him.
We must strive to develop stronger arms.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
A Little Boy's Face
The face of Cho Seung-Hui...the man who killed 33 people yesterday...33 people! Imagine his karma...the face of a boy. When I look at him, I see the baby he once was.
A post I wrote, equating the VT killings with all killings, especially war-time massacres...it received a comment from someone who knew VT people and was upset that I equated the two sorts of killings....that my saying war-time killing (soldier to soldier) was, essentially, the same as the murders yesterday, somehow trivialized yesterday's tragedy...this of course was far from my intention. I intended in fact to do quite the opposite: by equating yesterday's true shocking horror to the everyday murders in Iraq, I was hoping to make people see how truly horrifying all killing is, and that happens every day: killing, murder, the death of someone's child...my commenter (to whom I apologize for offending in any way) said we are not at all prepared for the shock of innocent murder of college kids...well, sadly, we are too too prepared for the murders we are committing in any country we choose to overwhelm .....we forget that they are innocent children too, or at least once were....and that despite our views, and how they may conflict, none are worth the taking of a human life. That is how I feel. Please know: I want the world to wake up and stop committing violence...if the senseless deaths of these VT students and teachers is to mean anything, let it teach us that no killing of another human being is good, no matter how good the reason someone may have for doing it. And that we must weep for them too, no matter how far away they are from us and our every day life. But first, we must weep for our own.
A post I wrote, equating the VT killings with all killings, especially war-time massacres...it received a comment from someone who knew VT people and was upset that I equated the two sorts of killings....that my saying war-time killing (soldier to soldier) was, essentially, the same as the murders yesterday, somehow trivialized yesterday's tragedy...this of course was far from my intention. I intended in fact to do quite the opposite: by equating yesterday's true shocking horror to the everyday murders in Iraq, I was hoping to make people see how truly horrifying all killing is, and that happens every day: killing, murder, the death of someone's child...my commenter (to whom I apologize for offending in any way) said we are not at all prepared for the shock of innocent murder of college kids...well, sadly, we are too too prepared for the murders we are committing in any country we choose to overwhelm .....we forget that they are innocent children too, or at least once were....and that despite our views, and how they may conflict, none are worth the taking of a human life. That is how I feel. Please know: I want the world to wake up and stop committing violence...if the senseless deaths of these VT students and teachers is to mean anything, let it teach us that no killing of another human being is good, no matter how good the reason someone may have for doing it. And that we must weep for them too, no matter how far away they are from us and our every day life. But first, we must weep for our own.
Overwhelmed
I was watching a silly tv show about the industry of beauty pageants for the very young girls whose mothers dress them up like little dolls and make them prance about and assume sexy poses in bathing suits and sophisticated poses in little tiny ball gowns....hair out to here, and thick layers of make-up covering delicate skin, huge eyelashes reaching out into a world the children know nothing about...mothers fulfilling their own senseless lack of self-knowledge by making their little girls pretend to be grown women....and , in one shot, after winning the bathing suit competition (this accomplished little child named Kynnedy had all the moves down, exhibiting an innocent knowledge of the allure of the curved small of the back...she knew how to look, without knowing why a woman ever needed to look that way...I doubt that any of these kids have any idea what sex actually entails)anyway: after winning this part of the competition, and being awarded a tall crown that was 3/4 of her own height, the reporter asked her if she felt overwhelmed with this obvious success....Kynnedy mouthed some mom-invented sentiments about loving being #1 and hoping to win the Big Crown too, and then looked up at the reporter and asked: "What does overwhelmed mean?"...the camera shifted to another scene.
Indeed. What does "overwhelmed" mean?
I always imagine a plot of land being drowned in waves of powerful water. Or a lost person being buried in storms of desert sands. Or a small person sitting at a desk surrounded by piles and piles of towering books that must be read.....distress and death. Overwhelmed means stress and death. And not by joy. To say "I am overwhelmed with happiness" seems ingenuious to me. Overwhelmed is not a good thing.
And, today, I am overwhelmed. Done in by the evil...the sad evil, resident in each of us. The hell realms that student must have been dwelling in that enabled him to open fire and execute his fellow students...did he think:" there is a teacher I know who is now barricading the door...here...let me shoot him through the door and kill him! I am now going to shoot holes in the people I have sat next to day after day...I am going to kill all I see...all I can possibly kill...".
I wonder if he felt good doing it...or if he felt anything at all? Why don't any of these human creatures who kill ever stay alive so we can find out what they were thinking? Why do they all top it all off with killing themselves? The streak of evil in me says: please stay alive so we can kill you! Let us off the hook of pain and allow us to assuage our pain by doing to you what you have done to all these senseless victims...please,,,let US pull the trigger on you...it will feel so good if we can do that! You see how it never ends? Killing is killing no matter what...and no matter that we think that what we are doing is "right"......this kid must have thought somewhere deep down inside himself that what he was doing has a rightness to it....in some universe somewhere: he must have felt right. With each pulling of the trigger the sense of doing right must have gotten stronger and stronger. Until killing himself seemed the rightest thing of all. This boy had to have felt right.
The way countries feel right when they go to war with other countries. Go to kill those people. Shoot holes through their doors, through their bodies. Evil has a way of making itself feel right. And this is what is overwhelming me today. I woder if that young VT killer has parents.
Indeed. What does "overwhelmed" mean?
I always imagine a plot of land being drowned in waves of powerful water. Or a lost person being buried in storms of desert sands. Or a small person sitting at a desk surrounded by piles and piles of towering books that must be read.....distress and death. Overwhelmed means stress and death. And not by joy. To say "I am overwhelmed with happiness" seems ingenuious to me. Overwhelmed is not a good thing.
And, today, I am overwhelmed. Done in by the evil...the sad evil, resident in each of us. The hell realms that student must have been dwelling in that enabled him to open fire and execute his fellow students...did he think:" there is a teacher I know who is now barricading the door...here...let me shoot him through the door and kill him! I am now going to shoot holes in the people I have sat next to day after day...I am going to kill all I see...all I can possibly kill...".
I wonder if he felt good doing it...or if he felt anything at all? Why don't any of these human creatures who kill ever stay alive so we can find out what they were thinking? Why do they all top it all off with killing themselves? The streak of evil in me says: please stay alive so we can kill you! Let us off the hook of pain and allow us to assuage our pain by doing to you what you have done to all these senseless victims...please,,,let US pull the trigger on you...it will feel so good if we can do that! You see how it never ends? Killing is killing no matter what...and no matter that we think that what we are doing is "right"......this kid must have thought somewhere deep down inside himself that what he was doing has a rightness to it....in some universe somewhere: he must have felt right. With each pulling of the trigger the sense of doing right must have gotten stronger and stronger. Until killing himself seemed the rightest thing of all. This boy had to have felt right.
The way countries feel right when they go to war with other countries. Go to kill those people. Shoot holes through their doors, through their bodies. Evil has a way of making itself feel right. And this is what is overwhelming me today. I woder if that young VT killer has parents.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Miraculous Times
....and miracles come in all shapes and sizes.
The proportion of today's massacre at Virginia Tech University, the carnage exacted by one man with two guns, and free access to rooms full of students,is tragic..and due to the miracles of modern weaponry, he was able to accomplish what he wished to, possibly even more than he ever dreamed he could.
The miracles of 21st Century television allow such slimy pundits as Bill O'
Reilly on the Fox Network to wax self-righteous and refer to "that mess in Virginia" in the same trivializing breath as he condemns pop tv talk show hosts for speaking their mind....plus, he uses the English language poorly, (oh such elementary grammar mistakes, one after the other) clearly never having mastered the rules of proper public discourse, and I am left bereft of feeling, he is such a categorically dismissive and inconsiderate man. How can one battle self-righteousness?
Prayer, powerful and constant prayer, that love fill the hearts of dangerous people like Bill O'Reilley. More guns are certainly not the answer, because more guns will mean more killing, here in this country and everywhere else our misguided country feels it can flex its muscles. No, not more guns. Even if the angelic-faced blondes trying to please their father-figures as side-kicks to the men who run Fox Network say guns are the solution...infantile men have always considered pretty women, guns and fast cars to be pure Nirvana: their right on this earth..not much different than the Islamic belief in a martyr's death earning him 22,000 virgins in their Heaven...but putting aside the patently paternal chuckles that accompany O'Reilley's petting of his toothsome side-kicks, his infuriating feeble-minded simple way of looking at the world, one can sense he is simply not a nice person, and that the things that make humans interesting are the very things he is most scared of....come to think of it, he is actually pretty interesting, in that misshapen way...and if he could see himself as I see him, I think he would agree with me: he is an ass! A dangerous, kicking, bleary-eyed-eyed, sly and stupid ass.
But the miracle of television waves brings him into our homes, and the miracle of free speech (God bless it, truly) allows him a public pulpit. So, whether we like it or not, miracles indeed do come in all shapes and sizes.
How very sad today's Virginia Tech massacre makes me. So sad.
But then, the miracle of the internet....of this amazing ability people now have to find people who matter to them....i keep getting the most wonderful comments from people I don't even know...some who I know a little bit...people who have seen me work onstage...one fellow, Nick, recently wrote of taking a pretty date to see SCRAMBLED FEET...and he remembered me in it...i mean, how very nice. But what drove him to contact me? Nick, if you are reading, let me know. What drove you to look me up? And another note, recently ,from an old Atlanta chum , Loretta Baer...inviting me to a gathering of other old pals from my Southern youth...when I tried to reply, my email came back, so if you are reading this, Loretta: I send love to you all...keep me posted on more gatherings. And on and on....people finding people...through this miracle of the Internet...the computer...a true miraculous thing, opening untold doors to communication on a staggering scale. NOW, if only we can learn to communicate love through it.....love, not hate....love. Caring for each other..not calling each other names like " nappy headed ho's" or any other demeaning and dismissive epithets..(by the way, when i called O'Reilley an ass? I did it with a loving heart.) Bill - I am sorry if it hurt your feelings. But, BE NICE! Learn to play well with others, Bill.
You too, Don Imus....take your medicine and spend the rest of your days attaining adult-hood.
You will like it, once you get there.
My sad best wishes to the parents of those who died today in Virginia.
The proportion of today's massacre at Virginia Tech University, the carnage exacted by one man with two guns, and free access to rooms full of students,is tragic..and due to the miracles of modern weaponry, he was able to accomplish what he wished to, possibly even more than he ever dreamed he could.
The miracles of 21st Century television allow such slimy pundits as Bill O'
Reilly on the Fox Network to wax self-righteous and refer to "that mess in Virginia" in the same trivializing breath as he condemns pop tv talk show hosts for speaking their mind....plus, he uses the English language poorly, (oh such elementary grammar mistakes, one after the other) clearly never having mastered the rules of proper public discourse, and I am left bereft of feeling, he is such a categorically dismissive and inconsiderate man. How can one battle self-righteousness?
Prayer, powerful and constant prayer, that love fill the hearts of dangerous people like Bill O'Reilley. More guns are certainly not the answer, because more guns will mean more killing, here in this country and everywhere else our misguided country feels it can flex its muscles. No, not more guns. Even if the angelic-faced blondes trying to please their father-figures as side-kicks to the men who run Fox Network say guns are the solution...infantile men have always considered pretty women, guns and fast cars to be pure Nirvana: their right on this earth..not much different than the Islamic belief in a martyr's death earning him 22,000 virgins in their Heaven...but putting aside the patently paternal chuckles that accompany O'Reilley's petting of his toothsome side-kicks, his infuriating feeble-minded simple way of looking at the world, one can sense he is simply not a nice person, and that the things that make humans interesting are the very things he is most scared of....come to think of it, he is actually pretty interesting, in that misshapen way...and if he could see himself as I see him, I think he would agree with me: he is an ass! A dangerous, kicking, bleary-eyed-eyed, sly and stupid ass.
But the miracle of television waves brings him into our homes, and the miracle of free speech (God bless it, truly) allows him a public pulpit. So, whether we like it or not, miracles indeed do come in all shapes and sizes.
How very sad today's Virginia Tech massacre makes me. So sad.
But then, the miracle of the internet....of this amazing ability people now have to find people who matter to them....i keep getting the most wonderful comments from people I don't even know...some who I know a little bit...people who have seen me work onstage...one fellow, Nick, recently wrote of taking a pretty date to see SCRAMBLED FEET...and he remembered me in it...i mean, how very nice. But what drove him to contact me? Nick, if you are reading, let me know. What drove you to look me up? And another note, recently ,from an old Atlanta chum , Loretta Baer...inviting me to a gathering of other old pals from my Southern youth...when I tried to reply, my email came back, so if you are reading this, Loretta: I send love to you all...keep me posted on more gatherings. And on and on....people finding people...through this miracle of the Internet...the computer...a true miraculous thing, opening untold doors to communication on a staggering scale. NOW, if only we can learn to communicate love through it.....love, not hate....love. Caring for each other..not calling each other names like " nappy headed ho's" or any other demeaning and dismissive epithets..(by the way, when i called O'Reilley an ass? I did it with a loving heart.) Bill - I am sorry if it hurt your feelings. But, BE NICE! Learn to play well with others, Bill.
You too, Don Imus....take your medicine and spend the rest of your days attaining adult-hood.
You will like it, once you get there.
My sad best wishes to the parents of those who died today in Virginia.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Where , Oh Where....?
...is that combination so rare?...as the song goes....but instead of talking about the perfect man, I want to know when the benign signs of a true Springtime will appear! Weather people are predicting another rogue Nor'Easter over the next day or so, lashing us with yet more cold and wet weather....enough! Go away! Gimme warmth and sunshine please!
Peter and I, along with Rachel , Alison, the doggies and Paul and Steve, are sharing a companionable weekend up here at our favorite House, and stayed up late last night drinking odd, but yummy, pear vodka concoctions, made blue/green by Midori...and gigggling through rounds of MadGab.....I am up far too early, watching the dawn from the downstairs den...I love it here, expecially when everyone else sleeps, because the quiet is profound ....and my ears ache for such quiet.
My semester at NYU soon ends. It has been a very creative time, and I am proud of the work the kids have done. Watching young actors grow into their gifts seems miraculous to me , sometimes. Will I ever tire of it? Each journey is so unique, unpredicatable. It is odd, though, that the more Buddhist reading I do, about the nature of true reality,impermanence, our concept of life versus the unvarnished truths of it, the more i listen to the growth of each student with different ears. See it with a different clarity. How does this serve them? I'm not sure it does. I am ,after all, talking about ultimate reality while they are learning how to best deceive an audience into entering a false one. BUT, of course, it's all illusion anyway, every moment of this existence, so, really, what matters any of it? I do teach to create from a a place of love, AND THAT IS THE WHOLE GAME ANYWAY!
The sun is creeping over the hill in the back meadow. Spindly trees look ghostly in that early morning glow, and it's hard to imagine that one day soon a curtain of deep green will fill the same view. Soon, I won't even be able to see the hill ridge. Spring's leaves will have covered it with thick fragrant freshgrowth. If the sun would shine for just a little while to day, I could face the approaching storm with more optimism.
I had a fun audition ( my first in a long while) for a new Adam Sandler movie two days ago. And even managed to make it to a voice-over audition the day before that! Who knows? Maybe I'll act again one day!! Who knows?
Peter and I will spend some of May in San Francisco. We are further exploring the idea of moving there .
I send Springtime kisses , or at least the hope for them, to all.
Peter and I, along with Rachel , Alison, the doggies and Paul and Steve, are sharing a companionable weekend up here at our favorite House, and stayed up late last night drinking odd, but yummy, pear vodka concoctions, made blue/green by Midori...and gigggling through rounds of MadGab.....I am up far too early, watching the dawn from the downstairs den...I love it here, expecially when everyone else sleeps, because the quiet is profound ....and my ears ache for such quiet.
My semester at NYU soon ends. It has been a very creative time, and I am proud of the work the kids have done. Watching young actors grow into their gifts seems miraculous to me , sometimes. Will I ever tire of it? Each journey is so unique, unpredicatable. It is odd, though, that the more Buddhist reading I do, about the nature of true reality,impermanence, our concept of life versus the unvarnished truths of it, the more i listen to the growth of each student with different ears. See it with a different clarity. How does this serve them? I'm not sure it does. I am ,after all, talking about ultimate reality while they are learning how to best deceive an audience into entering a false one. BUT, of course, it's all illusion anyway, every moment of this existence, so, really, what matters any of it? I do teach to create from a a place of love, AND THAT IS THE WHOLE GAME ANYWAY!
The sun is creeping over the hill in the back meadow. Spindly trees look ghostly in that early morning glow, and it's hard to imagine that one day soon a curtain of deep green will fill the same view. Soon, I won't even be able to see the hill ridge. Spring's leaves will have covered it with thick fragrant freshgrowth. If the sun would shine for just a little while to day, I could face the approaching storm with more optimism.
I had a fun audition ( my first in a long while) for a new Adam Sandler movie two days ago. And even managed to make it to a voice-over audition the day before that! Who knows? Maybe I'll act again one day!! Who knows?
Peter and I will spend some of May in San Francisco. We are further exploring the idea of moving there .
I send Springtime kisses , or at least the hope for them, to all.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
A Poem For Spring and History Buffs
THE PASSOVER BUNNY
‘Twas the night before Easter,
And as was the habit,
In the deep hours of morning
There sat an Old Rabbit
On the floor by the firelight,
Cloaked in his mystery.
Again he had come
To set straight Springtime history.
Yes, it’s true, though you may think
His mission quite funny,
He’d come to remind us
Of THE PASSOVER BUNNY !!
A creature far dearer than chocolate or honey:
Yes, the Passover, Passover ,Passover Bunny!
(refrain: yes the Passover, Passover, Passover Bunny)
What we think we know now
Is all hogwash and syrup,
Misconceptions begun back in 1st Century Europe
When the Saxons loved Eastre,
A goddess so raucous,
She fertilized Spring into a sexual caucus!
And since her pet animal was a large Hare,
The legend of “the Eastre Bunny” started there!
BUT THE TRUTH IS –
A truth that will make your hair curlier-
Is that Spring Rabbit honors began so much earlier!
Let me take you back now to the hot desert sands,
Back to Egypt, the home of the Pharoahs’ vast lands:
We all know that Egyptians then worshipped the Cat.
(All we rabbits could never quite understand that.)
But suffice it to say that mankind has its habits,
And the Hebrews more wisely gave honor to Rabbits.
More wisely because we are not only cuter,
But we have a biology far more astuter!
Because we are lagomorphs ,
Superfetation allows us two litters at once –
No vacation!!
But still it’s unique, (it’s great fun) also useful,
Historic, too, really, since we’re here to be truthful.
Y’see, it’s how we came , as part of the story
To come to hop down History’s long path of glory:
For, when the mean Pharaoh turned Jews into slaves,
To move all those rocks, we hopped out of our caves;
While Jews sweated by day, to set each stone in lime,
Bunnies came out at night, to help them save time!
We willingly chained our fur selves’ into gangs,
Got the Pyramids built! Thereby History hangs!
And when we ran short of our own Bunny Power
Wondrous superfetation produced more in an hour!
We worked side by side with the Jews we respected
So, though little known now,
We’re forever connected!
With Moses we exodused,
Helped him part the Red Sea,
Bunny-hopped through the desert,
My mespocha and me.
Now you ask yourself why doesn’t Hist’ry record
Bunnies’ fabulous deeds?
Now I don’t want you bored
And this poem runs long, but okay what the heck:
It was our Hebrew pals, knowing time would connect
In a biblical way feats both Human and Bunny.
So they played ‘round with Hist’ry,
Did a trick or two, funny:
They decided to take all the weight on themselves,
Thus assigning the Bunny to history’s shelves.
For they knew that if people began to think Rabbits
Could lift heavy loads, they’d develop bad habits
Of working all Bunnies right down to the bone!
And they wanted all Humans to leave Buns alone!
They wanted us free to be furry and sweet,
To spend time being fertile and lucky of feet!
So to pay Bunnies back for their help so well placed
Our part in the story’s been all but erased!
AND FOR THAT WE ARE GRATEFUL,
For you see it’s sublime
To be given the gift of both leisure and time
To further our furriness, make pretty eggs,
Oh that’s right, Chickens do that,
And there’s no time to seg-
Ue into that story…
Next year I’ll do that:
I’ll tell you the story of a big Easter Hat
And how it turned out that our Bunnies’ decor
Made of our ornate eggs
Had them begging for more…
But for now I shall leave you, with goodies to taste,
As you ruminate over old History’s waste
Of a tale rarely told, of the Jews’ friends so sunny:
The rare humorous Tale of
THE PASSOVER BUNNY!!
This I wrote in honor of Nancy Truitt's Easter Dinner Party 2007
I also took matzohs with thick dark chocolate icing, in honor the Legend!
‘Twas the night before Easter,
And as was the habit,
In the deep hours of morning
There sat an Old Rabbit
On the floor by the firelight,
Cloaked in his mystery.
Again he had come
To set straight Springtime history.
Yes, it’s true, though you may think
His mission quite funny,
He’d come to remind us
Of THE PASSOVER BUNNY !!
A creature far dearer than chocolate or honey:
Yes, the Passover, Passover ,Passover Bunny!
(refrain: yes the Passover, Passover, Passover Bunny)
What we think we know now
Is all hogwash and syrup,
Misconceptions begun back in 1st Century Europe
When the Saxons loved Eastre,
A goddess so raucous,
She fertilized Spring into a sexual caucus!
And since her pet animal was a large Hare,
The legend of “the Eastre Bunny” started there!
BUT THE TRUTH IS –
A truth that will make your hair curlier-
Is that Spring Rabbit honors began so much earlier!
Let me take you back now to the hot desert sands,
Back to Egypt, the home of the Pharoahs’ vast lands:
We all know that Egyptians then worshipped the Cat.
(All we rabbits could never quite understand that.)
But suffice it to say that mankind has its habits,
And the Hebrews more wisely gave honor to Rabbits.
More wisely because we are not only cuter,
But we have a biology far more astuter!
Because we are lagomorphs ,
Superfetation allows us two litters at once –
No vacation!!
But still it’s unique, (it’s great fun) also useful,
Historic, too, really, since we’re here to be truthful.
Y’see, it’s how we came , as part of the story
To come to hop down History’s long path of glory:
For, when the mean Pharaoh turned Jews into slaves,
To move all those rocks, we hopped out of our caves;
While Jews sweated by day, to set each stone in lime,
Bunnies came out at night, to help them save time!
We willingly chained our fur selves’ into gangs,
Got the Pyramids built! Thereby History hangs!
And when we ran short of our own Bunny Power
Wondrous superfetation produced more in an hour!
We worked side by side with the Jews we respected
So, though little known now,
We’re forever connected!
With Moses we exodused,
Helped him part the Red Sea,
Bunny-hopped through the desert,
My mespocha and me.
Now you ask yourself why doesn’t Hist’ry record
Bunnies’ fabulous deeds?
Now I don’t want you bored
And this poem runs long, but okay what the heck:
It was our Hebrew pals, knowing time would connect
In a biblical way feats both Human and Bunny.
So they played ‘round with Hist’ry,
Did a trick or two, funny:
They decided to take all the weight on themselves,
Thus assigning the Bunny to history’s shelves.
For they knew that if people began to think Rabbits
Could lift heavy loads, they’d develop bad habits
Of working all Bunnies right down to the bone!
And they wanted all Humans to leave Buns alone!
They wanted us free to be furry and sweet,
To spend time being fertile and lucky of feet!
So to pay Bunnies back for their help so well placed
Our part in the story’s been all but erased!
AND FOR THAT WE ARE GRATEFUL,
For you see it’s sublime
To be given the gift of both leisure and time
To further our furriness, make pretty eggs,
Oh that’s right, Chickens do that,
And there’s no time to seg-
Ue into that story…
Next year I’ll do that:
I’ll tell you the story of a big Easter Hat
And how it turned out that our Bunnies’ decor
Made of our ornate eggs
Had them begging for more…
But for now I shall leave you, with goodies to taste,
As you ruminate over old History’s waste
Of a tale rarely told, of the Jews’ friends so sunny:
The rare humorous Tale of
THE PASSOVER BUNNY!!
This I wrote in honor of Nancy Truitt's Easter Dinner Party 2007
I also took matzohs with thick dark chocolate icing, in honor the Legend!
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Happy Passover 2007
...and Happy Easter as well, as we approach the Time of the Bunny.....Behold, it is the Springtime of the Year...Over and gone is Winter's gloomy reign....words from one of my favorite songs from childhood Temple memories....Behold....indeed....except, of course, weather predictions for the next week include temperatues below 40 degrees and lots of windy rain...yay...one last gasp, before Winter gives it up and let's Spring enter the stage area....right now, we can only grin and bear it....or get on a plane and fly to the Bahamas.....not gonna happen...
Got our 2006 tax situation squred away with Trudy D. this morning....always glad to get that done....and now face an afternoon of private students...here in the comfort of our home...not a bad way to spend the time....tonight's 46-10 Group is not meeting due to Passover...we shall re-convene next Tuesday....
Which leads me to this idea that has been brewing around in my brain: a book...a book i should write about my experiences teaching the young - and- starting- out and the older -and -keeping- going.....FROM PILLAR TO POST: MY ADVENTURES IN THE DRAMA TRADE....
These ideas keep running throgh my head on how to shape and write it...
Right now I need to meditate.
Got our 2006 tax situation squred away with Trudy D. this morning....always glad to get that done....and now face an afternoon of private students...here in the comfort of our home...not a bad way to spend the time....tonight's 46-10 Group is not meeting due to Passover...we shall re-convene next Tuesday....
Which leads me to this idea that has been brewing around in my brain: a book...a book i should write about my experiences teaching the young - and- starting- out and the older -and -keeping- going.....FROM PILLAR TO POST: MY ADVENTURES IN THE DRAMA TRADE....
These ideas keep running throgh my head on how to shape and write it...
Right now I need to meditate.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Shakespeare is Alive and Well...
...and being discovered by yet another new generation of young actors: a small group of Steinhardt actors, as members of their Players Club, a student organization, decided to stage ROMEO AND JULIET and asked Evan Mueller to direct, and me to coach,,,,it played this weekend, and after the dress rehearsal I had the privilege of being part of on Wednesday night, there is no doubt in my mind it must have had a glorious 4-performance run over the weekend...i went Upstate and roamed the gardens, so did not attend an actual performance, but did lend my coaching eyes and ears to that dress rehearsal...it was as I said a privilege to do so.
Jay Johson and Caitlin Caughell as the two lovers: gorgeous and heartfelt and deeply moving...so deeply proud of them both..I wept like a fool as they led me to the inevitable, which somehow always manages to surprise me...how that is possible is miraculous to me....only confirming my belief that musical actors make the best Shakespeareans...a stirring and multi-levelled Lord Capulet played by Bill Coyne...a sexy and somehow modern and understandable Nurse played by one of the Player Club stalwarts: Brittany Proia...i learned so much from watching her...Benvolio played by a marvelous young woman whose work i always adore: Jenna Dallaco...Jaselyn Blanchard as The Princess ...(a wise use of a talented actress)..and Alex Yacovelli as a truly stirring young Tybalt...god, he was so good....and on and on the list goes...i just sat there, after a long NYU day and thought "where the hell do they get all this energy???" and then i remembered: from their passion...Bill W. sat next to me and he was moved by what they did, so generous in his praise, cognizant how out of their normal area of study this sort of language work is...they genuinely acquitted themselves well...and Evan's cut of the play was wise and swift story-telling...Lars Vercelli was a wise and well-spoken Friar...very very proud of him.....Rich Krakowski, a student unfamiliar to me, was such a poerful Mercutio...I really want to work with this young man in my time at Steinhardt...hope I get to...Nic Rouleau and Victoria Holland, so lovely to watch work...as Paris and Lady Capulet...the interesting freshman Jeff Raab completed the company and he was so much fun to watch!!! Proud of them all.
Hope I can work with that group next semester .
Up at the House this weekend, I read If You Like Us Talk About Us, the new biography of Robert Porterfield that Rick and Amanda sent us..i wept it was so good, and so tender about the Barter and the driving passionate man behind the idea of it : made me truly understand why that theater is deeply important and will remain so . Proud to have been a part of it, no matter how small.
Jay Johson and Caitlin Caughell as the two lovers: gorgeous and heartfelt and deeply moving...so deeply proud of them both..I wept like a fool as they led me to the inevitable, which somehow always manages to surprise me...how that is possible is miraculous to me....only confirming my belief that musical actors make the best Shakespeareans...a stirring and multi-levelled Lord Capulet played by Bill Coyne...a sexy and somehow modern and understandable Nurse played by one of the Player Club stalwarts: Brittany Proia...i learned so much from watching her...Benvolio played by a marvelous young woman whose work i always adore: Jenna Dallaco...Jaselyn Blanchard as The Princess ...(a wise use of a talented actress)..and Alex Yacovelli as a truly stirring young Tybalt...god, he was so good....and on and on the list goes...i just sat there, after a long NYU day and thought "where the hell do they get all this energy???" and then i remembered: from their passion...Bill W. sat next to me and he was moved by what they did, so generous in his praise, cognizant how out of their normal area of study this sort of language work is...they genuinely acquitted themselves well...and Evan's cut of the play was wise and swift story-telling...Lars Vercelli was a wise and well-spoken Friar...very very proud of him.....Rich Krakowski, a student unfamiliar to me, was such a poerful Mercutio...I really want to work with this young man in my time at Steinhardt...hope I get to...Nic Rouleau and Victoria Holland, so lovely to watch work...as Paris and Lady Capulet...the interesting freshman Jeff Raab completed the company and he was so much fun to watch!!! Proud of them all.
Hope I can work with that group next semester .
Up at the House this weekend, I read If You Like Us Talk About Us, the new biography of Robert Porterfield that Rick and Amanda sent us..i wept it was so good, and so tender about the Barter and the driving passionate man behind the idea of it : made me truly understand why that theater is deeply important and will remain so . Proud to have been a part of it, no matter how small.
