Shoebox rummaging II

7 Mar
Something else I’ve blogged about and remember… 

THEATRE



It suddenly struck me that it’s been years since I performed on stage. Years since I stood under those blinding lights, years since I communicated to an audience who sat in the blackness, years since I participated in theatre.
I miss those days of immense creativity. Of having the stage to yourself, to do what you want to and how you want to. To use every nook and corner of your space. To be absolutely and unabashedly free.
Those were the experiences that taught me about real discipline. To speak when it was my turn, to shut up when it was not and to definitely listen irrespective of whether I was being spoken to or not.
Theatre taught me respect – for what I did, for what others did and respect for expression itself.
I miss the fervour with which we practiced, the initiative we all took, the say we all had, the magic we all created together, the upheaval of emotions and expressions, the madness of the dress rehearsals, the slient tension that built up just before the lights went off while we were all backstage in a group huddle, the smooth ease of tension the moment the lights went off, the feeling of walking on stage, of acting on stage, of being absolutely free and completely in control. I miss wondering what the expressions of the audience was who was always clouded in an opaque blackness I couldn’t judge through, I miss running for my costume change, I miss waiting for cues, I miss the build up, I miss the stage. I miss that form of expression.
I know I cannot sign off this post without remembering Bing, my theatre teacher.
Bing: a man I detested, a man who always made fun of me by speaking to me through his nose, a man I always tried running away from, a man who made me cry so many times, a man I’ve wanted to physically harm, a man who always made me take off my specs during practice and the performance which I hated him again for, a man who just made my life hell. And so much more.
Bing: a man who taught me so much, a man who never stood up for me, a man who believed in me, a man who showed me not to see what I wasn’t supposed to see, a man who taught me not to speak through my nose, a man who helped me throw my voice to the end of the auditorium, a man who took away my specs so I couldn’t see what I wasn’t supposed to see, a man who laughed at me, a man who taught me how to take criticism in the face, a man who made me build on that criticism, a man who taught me more than I ever wanted him to. And so much more.
A man who will not go away from my heart and mind and memories no matter how much I wanted him to.
And this is what I call education.


(October 18, 2009)
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One Response to “Shoebox rummaging II”

  1. all or nothing March 7, 2011 at 6:39 PM #

    I am so glad to be able to say I know exactly how it feels :-)Theatre is a sexy kind of freedom.

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