Walking back into the real world: Post Shakes and Co Diary Part 2

I find myself overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings every time I go to write in this blog since leaving Shakespeare and Company five days ago. It feels like months have gone by and not days, like I've been transported to a different dimension with nothing to show for it but an endless sea of memories.

Gah, and then it's metaphors like that being the only description for the experience that frustrate me even furher! "An endless sea of memories"?! While I was doing the intensive, the single greatest boundary to my "work" or I guess the most significant facet is my intense self judgement. A big part of the Shakespeare and Company training process for me (and in general, there I'll say it) is becoming aware of my judgements of myself and by extension others. In order to facilitate that, they make really, really specific use of language. In writing this blog I also try to make specific use of language. As a poet as well. And very often I find myself judging the "success" of that specificity in my writing. Was I able to clearly convey the thought of how overwhelmed I am by the Shakes and Co intensive experience? I'm fighting against the instinct when I find myself going for an image like "an endless sea of memories" (it's not a very creative image) to just stop right where I am, and go back to Facebook.

But I owe it to myself to persevere and do my best to write my truth to whatever I'm feeling as best as I can. In writing that sentence, I struggle with the earnestness of that statement, and it's obvious quality. But it's earnest and obvious because it's truthful, and inevitably if something feels overly earnest and obvious it must be because it's TRUE.

This self judgement I've been trying so hard to observe and understand no doubt stems from all kinds of sources. One I spent a lot of time working on while at Shakespeare and Company was my child hood. I've struggled a lot with my body image in my life, and with not liking the way I look. But I remember a time when I was very young when I was with my friends in a park in Berekeley California and I took my shirt off in public completely free of fears of judgement. After moving to Massachusetts, and first being bullied over my weight, I started judging my body as being ugly, or a source of shame.

Oh christ but who gives a shit? So I was intermittently alienated and made fun of as a kid, it's affected the person I am today, why do I need to write multiple paragraphs about it? Quoth the voices of judgement in my head.

Long story short, with the support of a lot of people, friends and teachers and teachers who are now friends, I made a lot of progress on a lot of stuff. In particular, I was really able to carry forward all the movement work I've been doing in intermittent starts and stops, and discovered a whole new path of development in Linklater voice training, which I hope to continue as well as the movement work (I've found a Linklater teacher and a dance class, I just need to follow up on them).

Gosh there's so so much I want to blog about, I feel it pouring out of my pores. Coming back into the real world has been an adjustment. Something about spending a month surrounded by incredible people with whom I share a common love of the craft of acting and in so many other ways connected with as deeply as I've ever felt connected to anyone in my life has made it very difficult to incorporate the experience into my daily routine again without emphasizing the reality that I may and not (and in the cases of some) will not ever see those people who I came to love and care for so deeply ever again in my life. True statement! But how true it is will be up to me to decide. And how much of the work I did in that workshop, not just the work on my own instrument but on my life as a piece of art (something one of my acting teachers talked about which is now beginning to resonate with me as I write this) is up to me to decide.

Part of that needs to take the form of this blog, and through writing bringing all or as many of the parts of my artistic life as possible into one medium. One of the things I've been taking a great deal of comfort with in staving off the melancholy... no that's a bad choice of words, in expressing everything I've been feeling has been through my guitar. Indeed being reunited with my electric guitar and having the time again to practice has been one of the great joys of returning back to regular life. Something my teachers talked about was the ability of iambic pentameter to contain any possible emotion an actor could channel into Shakespeare text (apologies if that doesn't make sense, I'm moving on, this has been my briefly allowed moment of self judgement) and I believe the same could be said of the Blues, the musical form. Mind you for me, the blues encapsulates all of the creole music founded in the union of African and European influences which have taken place in the context of American music, and it's the feeling I have when I play that music on my guitar. Especially my electric guitar. I think if I could be anything in the world other than an actor, it would be an electric blues guitar player (and maybe singer but I'd settle for being Jeff Beck and not Eric Clapton). When I connect to my guitar, any emotion I could ever feel becomes accessible and expressible through my music. It's an incredible feeling, and something that's been incredibly pivotal in maintaining my mental health during this difficult time, as it has been during other difficult times and will no doubt continue to be in the future.

The same is true of writing. And the feeling I get knowing you read this. The hope that some part of you understands what I'm talking about, and hopefully if you're one of my fellow participants encountering it that it helps you in some way too. Until we meet again!