Processing top down
I searched for any beginnings I might have made for this August blog post, and to my surprise and delight I had notes. I’ll jot down items that interest me in writing about, and on occasion I’ll find them! This time around I was happy to see my own personal thought diving board for August and even more thrilling? They made sense, especially considering how my thoughts coalesced. In fact, how I engage with thoughts is the very idea I’m pondering.
The slowdown
The first note I took was “the slow down.” I’m not sure what I meant in the moment, but it must be the podcast I love called, The Slowdown. I started listening to it during Covid, I believe, sometime in 2020. Maggie Smith is the host now, (she’s not the Maggie Smith of “What is a weekend?” fame), I started listening with Tracy K. Smith hosting; then there was Ada Limón, then Major Jackson. All of whom I loved, and still wonder even now as I listen to K.T. Landon’s What I Am Telling You, Jessica, Is That Those Chickens Are Fine, is “How do you read aloud so slowly?” And this comment comes from a professional audio book narrator!
The lowdown
Which brings me to the lowdown on what’s ahead. I’m currently zipping along on the Acela from Boston, where I visited my daughter. I’m heading to Philadelphia, where I’ll be co-coaching a seminar on theatrical audio description at the LEAD conference. After that, I’m off to New York to work with Marc Acito and Amy Engelhardt to record songs for a short musical film we’re making in November. These are creative times, and startlingly, no theater. I think I’m “theatered” out, except for October when I’ll hop onstage at Northwest Children’s Theater to work with the stellar Sarah Jane Hardy and John Ellingson on The Golem’s Gift, an NWCT world premiere commission of Benny Zelkowicz and Ezra Weiss’s musical based on a Jewish folktale. Thrillingly, I just found out that Eric Little will be playing the golem. What is a golem you might ask? A golem is mythical creature made of mud or clay. This golem’s job, in our story, is to fix what is broken. Quite a task, I’d say.
Strip down
Now, back to the slowdown. K.T. Landon’s poem is gorgeous. This poet is new to me, and two lines jumped out for me, as I listened:
"We love what we love for as long as we can.” “Every story ends with a corpse"
You’ll have to read the poem yourself, but if you’ve ever loved something or someone, I believe it will touch your heart.
It reminded me in the moment Jessica’s experiencing the chickens, she’s heartbroken as she thinks on the future and the chicken’s ultimate demise, which lead me to my own personal future-jumping. In my last blog post, I wrote about a journey of a project I am on with younger daughter, and our intentional venture into growing our relationship with authenticity and intention. One of the things that’s come up for me, and that I am fascinated by, is the distinction between process and structure. I imagine every therapist I’ve ever worked with would agree that I grew up in a chaotic home and it has affected who I am and how I have been able to make myself comfortable in the world. That said, as I’ve noticed how much I try to structure my life, day to day, month to month, year to year, I’m aware there are bigger actors at work. No pun intended. I may attempt to “structure” my life. But things happen around me, and, if I allow them, perhaps they may lead me to the next place with less anxiety and stress.
Down to the nub
So, Presentism and Eternalism, as I continue to ponder them, are both grand to think of as having distinct edges. And I think they may be smushier than, initially, I’d like to think. Chaos was uncomfortable in my formative years. And as I mature, did I think it would take this long? No. I realize each day that chaos is the norm. Blurred lines and curiosity are the way to go. Everyone’s life is a snowflake. Unique. Beautiful. Messy. Messy. Messy. Which leads me to process and structure.
Down to the station
I have a dream, and it’s not “a dream about you, baby.” Here’s my dream. A sabbatical I give myself. I buy a month pass on Amtrak, sometime in early 2027 and I invent, ha, such hubris, I embark on a journey into curiosity. No plans. Visit cities where I’ve never been and meet artists I’ve never met. Refill the cup, as they say. Fully embrace process and toss as much structure to the wind as possible. My daughter and I decided that we’d have two thirds of our meetings in process mode, and one third in structure mode. And the structure is after the process. That is absolutely backward from where I’ve been focused, and it feels so right. Have I been living my life backwards? Or sideways? Can I read more slowly? Could I practice letting spirit lead as the journey unfolds? Yikes.
As I write this post on the Amtrak Acela to Philly, I pop on LinkedIn and at the top of my feed is an André DeShields quote Rodney Hicks posted:
“Slowly is the fastest way to get to where you want to be.”
Seriously, how much more evidence do I need? I have all I need, right now.