Finding joy ...
and respite in live theatre
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This has been a week. Half of the country in which I live is suffering. Even those of us who had a bit of hope of defeating the orange guy were only "cautiously optimistic." But once hopes are up, they don't go down until there is no hope left.
I avoided the news all day, all evening, went to bed without looking. But I awoke a couple of hours later and looked at my phone. I burst into tears immediately. Then I read nearly the entire book I had started earlier. (James by Percival Everett if you're curious.) Finally I fell asleep for a couple of hours. I got up, cried some more, had some tea, and was unable to make myself do anything the rest of the day unless it was absolutely necessary. I did not watch the news.
I've avoided the news, but pundits are everywhere, dissecting what went wrong. What did Kamala do or not do? Well, IMO there was nothing she could do she didn't do. Could she somehow go back in time and be born a white man? Pah. And President Biden? Please. The Democrats begged him to run and beat the orange guy in the first place. He did. Then they asked him to save us again and he signed up to run again. But then he didn't make a great appearance in the debate (as if the orange guy did?) and begged him to let Harris run instead.
So here we all are. We have to get up in the morning, and do what we can do to survive, to try to spread and receive joy. Hard to do when we're all feeling doomed.
My friend invited me to go see a brand new play by a woman playwright I know. I love her work, and I want to support other playwrights, especially the ones I know. So we went to a small theater where they are producing what they call "Bare Bones Theatre." Minimal sets, costumes, etc.
EM Lewis's Dorothy's Dictionary has only two characters, a bed, two chairs, and stacks and stacks of books. The story is about a fourteen-year old boy who has to do community service, and is sent to a convalescent to read to a forty-five year old woman with poor eyesight. He doesn't really want to go to a place that smells like sick people and disinfectant, but it beat juvvie, right?
The play is a tight sixty minutes told in twelve chapters. It is funny, moving, poignant, and a cure for what ailed me. For an hour, I felt the joy of hearing a story while sitting among people who were there for the same reason. Maybe we hoped for escape. We got that, and much more.
I love to give advice, so here's my advice for this week: make an effort to find some joy. Go outdoors and remind yourself we are still here. Nature is healing. If you can't go outdoors, maybe you can look out the window. See the sky, hear the wind or rain.
If you can, turn your eyes away from the screens. Reach out to a person or people who want to hear from you. If we are all reaching out instead of turning away, we'll be better able to get through this.
Thank you for reading my words. Thank you for commenting, if you've so moved. Sending love and peace to each of you.
My joy for the week: being with friends, here. Like you. Thank you, Sandra.
Sandra, you know what I love about live theater? That it’s so quintessential human. That we want to do that for each other. I read somewhere that the only other animals who perform for each other in this way (meaning for the sheer joy of it, unrelated to mating, etc.) are dolphins…..and crows!