May the blessing of light be upon you. Light on the outside, light on the inside. With God's sunlight shining on you, may your heart glow with warmth like a turf fire that welcomes friends and strangers alike. May the light of the Lord shine from your eyes like a candle in the window, welcoming the weary traveler. May the blessing of God's soft rain be on you, falling gently on your head, refreshing your soul with the sweetness of little flowers newly blooming. May the strength of the winds of heaven bless you, carrying the rain to wash your spirit clean, sparkling after in the sunlight. May the blessing of God's earth be on you. And as you walk the roads, may you always have a kind word for those you meet. May you understand the strength and power of God in a thunderstorm in winter, and the quiet beauty of creation in the calm of a summer sunset. And may you come to realize that, insignificant as you may seem in this great universe, you are an important part of God's plan. May he watch over you, and keep you safe from harm.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
An Irish Blessing to Warm your Heart
My grandmother sent me this Irish blessing today, and it warmed my heart, so I thought I'd share it.
Monday, November 5, 2012
It's Not Fair
It's not fair. That's all I can think about sometimes when I come out of rehearsal.
Rehearsing a show is a long, complicated, tiring, and sometimes tedious process. It's intensive, and it takes a lot out of you. But sometimes I walk out of rehearsals and I can't shake how unfair it is.
Unfair that the audiences who come see the show will, in a sense, see only the tip of the iceberg.
Before you accuse me of not understanding my job, I do know that it IS my job to do all the legwork of rehearsal and do all the intricate, tedious, intensive work to bring the character to life so that the things that are latent in the text come to life and are apparent to the audience--I know that. But that's not exactly what I mean.
I mean the discoveries I make--both in rehearsal and in research. I don't know if there's a way for me to get everything that I'm discovering and understanding across to an audience. Some of it, sure. But there are moments and discoveries and little understandings that no one besides me (and sometimes my director) will ever know.
It's not fair!
I wish I could show people--bring them along with me. But usually that's pretty impossible. And they probably wouldn't be half as excited about it as I am anyway.
And then I start to wonder...
does this make me selfish?
That I want to do this for a living because of moments like that, because of how excited they make me? To want to do something for a living because of how much I love it and how much I get out of it? That's the nature of an acting career, right? Actors don't act for the money, most of the time. They act because they love it, because it makes them come to life. That's certainly true for me.
But is that where my life and my purpose are supposed to stop?
Every once in a while, the doubts creep back. And I reach to justify it again, and I do, and I'm satisfied.
For the moment.
Until I start reveling in those moments again and I wonder,
does this make me selfish?
Rehearsing a show is a long, complicated, tiring, and sometimes tedious process. It's intensive, and it takes a lot out of you. But sometimes I walk out of rehearsals and I can't shake how unfair it is.
Unfair that the audiences who come see the show will, in a sense, see only the tip of the iceberg.
Before you accuse me of not understanding my job, I do know that it IS my job to do all the legwork of rehearsal and do all the intricate, tedious, intensive work to bring the character to life so that the things that are latent in the text come to life and are apparent to the audience--I know that. But that's not exactly what I mean.
I mean the discoveries I make--both in rehearsal and in research. I don't know if there's a way for me to get everything that I'm discovering and understanding across to an audience. Some of it, sure. But there are moments and discoveries and little understandings that no one besides me (and sometimes my director) will ever know.
It's not fair!
I wish I could show people--bring them along with me. But usually that's pretty impossible. And they probably wouldn't be half as excited about it as I am anyway.
And then I start to wonder...
does this make me selfish?
That I want to do this for a living because of moments like that, because of how excited they make me? To want to do something for a living because of how much I love it and how much I get out of it? That's the nature of an acting career, right? Actors don't act for the money, most of the time. They act because they love it, because it makes them come to life. That's certainly true for me.
But is that where my life and my purpose are supposed to stop?
Every once in a while, the doubts creep back. And I reach to justify it again, and I do, and I'm satisfied.
For the moment.
Until I start reveling in those moments again and I wonder,
does this make me selfish?
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