Say from whence you owe this strange intelligence...
My high school drama teacher, and dear friend (David Edwards) came to see Macbeth this weekend. This man was a big reason why I am an actor today. His belief in me when I was an awkward kid unsure of myself gave me the confidence to go out there and believe that I could do it. And here we are more than 30 years after my graduation, and I still rely on his support and opinion to know that I am doing the right thing.
Good teachers are abundant. Teachers that support you are rare. Teachers that have a vested interest in your future are gold. Dave was there at the funeral of my mom and gave me a big hug. He was there at the memorial for my dad and made me cry with his impression of my dad. There are people that show up and people that don't. I try to be the first. Dave not only shows up, but brings snacks. Having him and his lovely wife, Cindy, in attendance on Friday night filled me with joy. I wouldn't be an actor without him. And here I was playing Macbeth. For my first mentor and coach. It meant a lot to me.
The moment was not lost on me that Anna (who I have mentioned in my blog before as our biggest fan with her sister Elena) who I had taught Shakespeare to last year was there as well. There is a passage on of knowledge in all fields. In theatre, it is almost spiritual. No almost about it. For me, theatre is where I practice my religion. It is a sacred space. And the stories that I tell, that I am lucky enough to tell, are stories of great importance. They mold us. This year I am telling a story of ambition, last year one of jealousy. They instruct us and speak to the core of who we are as humans. Because...Shakespeare.
I believe that there is a god because there is no other way to explain Shakespeare, and Mozart, and Picasso, and the other great artists. They don't exist in nature without divine inspiration. (And I don't really want to get into a theological argument here, so please...save it). For me, Shakespeare is enough for me to believe in a divine being. And I have spent my life as a priest of this church telling these tales. I can hear eyes rolling and people scrolling, but I do believe that what I do is a calling. I don't know how else to explain it. I am a self-appointed priest of the church of the bard and I am in constant study and communion with the word of the man from Stratford. My mom was a Catholic. My dad was a spiritual agnostic. I believe that both of them would be happy with where I have settled myself.
I miss them. My parents were the best people you could know. My mom was fire and iron. The smartest person in any room, but too kind to rub peoples noses in it. My dad was heart and light. There isn't a person he met whose life wasn't made a better place for it. My mom died five days before Eleanor (my youngest) was born, and my dad died last year between a matinee and evening performance of a show I was doing. They knew how to make an exit.
We sold our home this past week (finally after lots of legal mumbo jumbo that frankly my sister and I weren't equipped to deal with). Obviously this brings up a lot of stuff. I don't sleep much these days (because Macbeth shall sleep no more) but I had a dream the other night that my dad had recovered. I was so happy. And then I woke up. And it was like losing him again.
They were so supportive and proud of me. I wish I could see myself and my accomplishments through their eyes. For them I hung the moon. I hope that my children know that the moon hangs only for them as well.
This blog has sort of gone in a way that I didn't expect. But I won't erase it and start over, because my mom was a big believer in the beauty of what happens when writing gets messy. Whenever I got stuck, she would send me to bed and tell me to ask the muses to work it out. And before I could have breakfast, I had to put pen to paper and appease the muses. My mom may have been the only Dionysian/Catholic practitioner of her generation.
For the play itself, I felt really good about the first half. The dagger speech settled into a good spot. I am still wrestling with the banquet (which I have named the Banquo-et, because I am a genius). But theatre is all process and I will conquer it all (like Macbeth conquered the traitors of Duncan) before all is done.
The journey continues. My everlasting love and gratitude to those who are taking this journey with me. And next week, I will start to name names.
Good teachers are abundant. Teachers that support you are rare. Teachers that have a vested interest in your future are gold. Dave was there at the funeral of my mom and gave me a big hug. He was there at the memorial for my dad and made me cry with his impression of my dad. There are people that show up and people that don't. I try to be the first. Dave not only shows up, but brings snacks. Having him and his lovely wife, Cindy, in attendance on Friday night filled me with joy. I wouldn't be an actor without him. And here I was playing Macbeth. For my first mentor and coach. It meant a lot to me.
The moment was not lost on me that Anna (who I have mentioned in my blog before as our biggest fan with her sister Elena) who I had taught Shakespeare to last year was there as well. There is a passage on of knowledge in all fields. In theatre, it is almost spiritual. No almost about it. For me, theatre is where I practice my religion. It is a sacred space. And the stories that I tell, that I am lucky enough to tell, are stories of great importance. They mold us. This year I am telling a story of ambition, last year one of jealousy. They instruct us and speak to the core of who we are as humans. Because...Shakespeare.
I believe that there is a god because there is no other way to explain Shakespeare, and Mozart, and Picasso, and the other great artists. They don't exist in nature without divine inspiration. (And I don't really want to get into a theological argument here, so please...save it). For me, Shakespeare is enough for me to believe in a divine being. And I have spent my life as a priest of this church telling these tales. I can hear eyes rolling and people scrolling, but I do believe that what I do is a calling. I don't know how else to explain it. I am a self-appointed priest of the church of the bard and I am in constant study and communion with the word of the man from Stratford. My mom was a Catholic. My dad was a spiritual agnostic. I believe that both of them would be happy with where I have settled myself.
I miss them. My parents were the best people you could know. My mom was fire and iron. The smartest person in any room, but too kind to rub peoples noses in it. My dad was heart and light. There isn't a person he met whose life wasn't made a better place for it. My mom died five days before Eleanor (my youngest) was born, and my dad died last year between a matinee and evening performance of a show I was doing. They knew how to make an exit.
We sold our home this past week (finally after lots of legal mumbo jumbo that frankly my sister and I weren't equipped to deal with). Obviously this brings up a lot of stuff. I don't sleep much these days (because Macbeth shall sleep no more) but I had a dream the other night that my dad had recovered. I was so happy. And then I woke up. And it was like losing him again.
They were so supportive and proud of me. I wish I could see myself and my accomplishments through their eyes. For them I hung the moon. I hope that my children know that the moon hangs only for them as well.
This blog has sort of gone in a way that I didn't expect. But I won't erase it and start over, because my mom was a big believer in the beauty of what happens when writing gets messy. Whenever I got stuck, she would send me to bed and tell me to ask the muses to work it out. And before I could have breakfast, I had to put pen to paper and appease the muses. My mom may have been the only Dionysian/Catholic practitioner of her generation.
For the play itself, I felt really good about the first half. The dagger speech settled into a good spot. I am still wrestling with the banquet (which I have named the Banquo-et, because I am a genius). But theatre is all process and I will conquer it all (like Macbeth conquered the traitors of Duncan) before all is done.
The journey continues. My everlasting love and gratitude to those who are taking this journey with me. And next week, I will start to name names.
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