wave effect
So much.
What it does to your body. We're all withdrawing. Each actor's process is unique and perfectly suited to their mental/emotional configuration and journey through the play. I ran into L, one of the rapists. She's having more nightmares now that during rehearsal and the run. And depression.
Me, my dam broke on Saturday right in the middle of a party. It was, I must admit, quite scary. A more ferocious torrent of emotion than I think I've ever experienced running through my body ever before. And unlike while acting, I couldn't seem to control it. IT wanted to come out, to be expressed.
Ex - pressed out. Pressed. Pressure. Aaaaaaaand release. Soon I hope.
The force of the e(nergy in)motion was so great that I was moved to call for help. This was the Revolutionary Act that I think this whole experience was set up to accomplish. A series of experiences that made it impossible and unsafe NOT to reach out to another human being. In order for me to realize that I am not self-contained, shouldn't be and can actually harm myself when I keep myself hermetically sealed.
This may not make any sense or may describe you, dear reader, to a T.
When you've never had any one to turn to for certain activites, emotional sustenance and support, that sort of thing you learn to fend for yourself. Until there comes a time when what you've got (I've got) to work with is beyond my solo capacities.
I'm alright. Don't worry. But the process hasn't run itself through, by any means.
I can feel it at the edges of me, welling up its energy until it's accumulated enough critical disturbance to spill over into another wave (an energy transport phenomenom), a disturbance that moves through the medium (me), leaves the medium in place and yet somehow altered by the event.
Waves of Profound Grief.
Me mourning the characters' fates.
Mourning which the structure of the performance prohibited.
My natural response to the situation rather than one crafted in service to the text of the play.
What scar issue will these waves break up?
What calcifications will be pummelled and flushed out by these tears?
What space will be opened for new knowings?
New ways of being?
New beliefs?
Stay tuned.
In key.
This is my advice to myself.
Sensitive to the song that's slowly playing itself out on the stringfibres of my Self.
What it does to your body. We're all withdrawing. Each actor's process is unique and perfectly suited to their mental/emotional configuration and journey through the play. I ran into L, one of the rapists. She's having more nightmares now that during rehearsal and the run. And depression.
Me, my dam broke on Saturday right in the middle of a party. It was, I must admit, quite scary. A more ferocious torrent of emotion than I think I've ever experienced running through my body ever before. And unlike while acting, I couldn't seem to control it. IT wanted to come out, to be expressed.
Ex - pressed out. Pressed. Pressure. Aaaaaaaand release. Soon I hope.
The force of the e(nergy in)motion was so great that I was moved to call for help. This was the Revolutionary Act that I think this whole experience was set up to accomplish. A series of experiences that made it impossible and unsafe NOT to reach out to another human being. In order for me to realize that I am not self-contained, shouldn't be and can actually harm myself when I keep myself hermetically sealed.
This may not make any sense or may describe you, dear reader, to a T.
When you've never had any one to turn to for certain activites, emotional sustenance and support, that sort of thing you learn to fend for yourself. Until there comes a time when what you've got (I've got) to work with is beyond my solo capacities.
I'm alright. Don't worry. But the process hasn't run itself through, by any means.
I can feel it at the edges of me, welling up its energy until it's accumulated enough critical disturbance to spill over into another wave (an energy transport phenomenom), a disturbance that moves through the medium (me), leaves the medium in place and yet somehow altered by the event.
Waves of Profound Grief.
Me mourning the characters' fates.
Mourning which the structure of the performance prohibited.
My natural response to the situation rather than one crafted in service to the text of the play.
What scar issue will these waves break up?
What calcifications will be pummelled and flushed out by these tears?
What space will be opened for new knowings?
New ways of being?
New beliefs?
Stay tuned.
In key.
This is my advice to myself.
Sensitive to the song that's slowly playing itself out on the stringfibres of my Self.
posted by iorchid at 2:38 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home