today was the most beautiful of spring days. cool. bright. blue as far as the eye can see. and in the midst, it was good, to be sure, to come home find letters from friends. they are always my favorite surprise.
i love to write letters. and i am at once comforted and exhilarated to know that i do not disturb, and, on occasion, set folks abuzz. i have a friend who has been absent for far too long. it was nice to know we are intact and it is simply an emergence from a 'quiet' time. and, too, i appreciate that i am not considered among the 'people' who fail to comprehend it.
the stillness to which my friend refers exists in all manner of disciplines. we have it in the theatre (and in oral interp), as well. the truly exceptional - the actual competition - are never the ones who are broadcasting their resumes or reciting their accolades. they are the few standing against the wall, quietly waiting for a turn. it's easy for 'people' to mistake the silence for nerves or arrogance. they just don't know.
they don't know the certainty of a that gift will almost effortlessly manifest itself when called forth; the certainty of the words, how - when spoken with truth and with gentle reverence - they will just carry you along. they don't know the quiet that attends such certainty. and they don't know the energy contained within that silence, how to harness it and reap the rewards.
i know it, though. i learned it from evelyn rodriguez.
we'd meet, sometimes, preparing for competition. we'd look for poems for the upcoming season; other times, she'd give me monologues or stanzas to interpret to keep my skills honed...but mostly, we'd just sit. she is the one who first convinced me i had a gift and that i could do something no one else could do. i could talk. she showed me i could take complicated thoughts and phrases and make them sound as natural as if they'd come from my own hand...that with the tiniest inflection, i could break your heart. and she showed me how my silence could be more powerful than my voice. i could, she said, (and i think that i can, still) hold an audience on the tip of my tongue.
she would remind me that less is more and that the least obvious choice is almost always the most effective and true. she would implore me to trust my instincts and she showed me how to have determination without and stillness within. and i think she did her best to prepare me to be brave in the face of those who would fear my success.
i was unstoppable that year. and, as she predicted, very much alone. but, thanks to evelyn, i was almost always o.k. with it. in those months, i learned to recognize and treasure true friendship; how to bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray myself. i stood in the center of the fire and did not shrink back. and most importantly, i began to know what would sustain me from the inside when all else falls away.
this, i suppose, is a very long way of saying i understand the 'quiet.' i understand the astrological implications, as well. my pisces friends are a dreamy lot; preferring to indulge in the quiet world of spiritual thought and exotic imagination. their communication is subtle, enabling them to cross the threshold of the material world into the sublime bounty of unknown regions.
i, on the other hand, am a gemini. for us, the whole world is an ongoing cocktail party. we are restless and changeable, curious, talkative and versatile. an entanglement of paradoxes. which may, in some way, explain why people are drawn to me. (that and the fact that i am cute as a button.) i'm surprised that i - in all my gemininity - don't rattle more cages more than i do. or maybe i do and they just keep quiet.
as spring turns toward summer, today was the first in my long line of very early mornings. rising with the moon, feeling the weight of my job as i pour myself into bed later. i love this time of year. (i do not enjoy the actual waking, though...looking at the clock in the dark and knowing i need to leave the warmth of my dreams hurts my feelings a little.)
as this fri-day turns toward evening, dear friends, i hope you are wandering well, riding the edges and seeing around corners in ways that delight. maybe we can 'meet' here again before i leave for vacation.
i'd like that.
the stillness to which my friend refers exists in all manner of disciplines. we have it in the theatre (and in oral interp), as well. the truly exceptional - the actual competition - are never the ones who are broadcasting their resumes or reciting their accolades. they are the few standing against the wall, quietly waiting for a turn. it's easy for 'people' to mistake the silence for nerves or arrogance. they just don't know.
they don't know the certainty of a that gift will almost effortlessly manifest itself when called forth; the certainty of the words, how - when spoken with truth and with gentle reverence - they will just carry you along. they don't know the quiet that attends such certainty. and they don't know the energy contained within that silence, how to harness it and reap the rewards.
i know it, though. i learned it from evelyn rodriguez.
we'd meet, sometimes, preparing for competition. we'd look for poems for the upcoming season; other times, she'd give me monologues or stanzas to interpret to keep my skills honed...but mostly, we'd just sit. she is the one who first convinced me i had a gift and that i could do something no one else could do. i could talk. she showed me i could take complicated thoughts and phrases and make them sound as natural as if they'd come from my own hand...that with the tiniest inflection, i could break your heart. and she showed me how my silence could be more powerful than my voice. i could, she said, (and i think that i can, still) hold an audience on the tip of my tongue.
she would remind me that less is more and that the least obvious choice is almost always the most effective and true. she would implore me to trust my instincts and she showed me how to have determination without and stillness within. and i think she did her best to prepare me to be brave in the face of those who would fear my success.
i was unstoppable that year. and, as she predicted, very much alone. but, thanks to evelyn, i was almost always o.k. with it. in those months, i learned to recognize and treasure true friendship; how to bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray myself. i stood in the center of the fire and did not shrink back. and most importantly, i began to know what would sustain me from the inside when all else falls away.
this, i suppose, is a very long way of saying i understand the 'quiet.' i understand the astrological implications, as well. my pisces friends are a dreamy lot; preferring to indulge in the quiet world of spiritual thought and exotic imagination. their communication is subtle, enabling them to cross the threshold of the material world into the sublime bounty of unknown regions.
i, on the other hand, am a gemini. for us, the whole world is an ongoing cocktail party. we are restless and changeable, curious, talkative and versatile. an entanglement of paradoxes. which may, in some way, explain why people are drawn to me. (that and the fact that i am cute as a button.) i'm surprised that i - in all my gemininity - don't rattle more cages more than i do. or maybe i do and they just keep quiet.
as spring turns toward summer, today was the first in my long line of very early mornings. rising with the moon, feeling the weight of my job as i pour myself into bed later. i love this time of year. (i do not enjoy the actual waking, though...looking at the clock in the dark and knowing i need to leave the warmth of my dreams hurts my feelings a little.)
as this fri-day turns toward evening, dear friends, i hope you are wandering well, riding the edges and seeing around corners in ways that delight. maybe we can 'meet' here again before i leave for vacation.
i'd like that.
0 comments:
Post a Comment