I didn’t write anything last night and I’m just about getting this in. The launch is later this week. I’ve been burrowing into acting* work and enjoying that as much as possible, despite aching fatigue. So pleased to have spent this evening in class laughing and mustn’t worry about not having the energy to speak outside my scenes. This is just something I wil ride out, at my own pace.
“At my own pace.” Something precious a friend said this week. I cannot tell you what a relief it was to hear this. To be listened to after what seems like, well, it has been ages. Life is surprising and I’m grateful for that. This is the main reason to keep moving forward, to keep opening up, despite the awfulness or pain or risk of pain. The good surprises are ALWAYS going to be beyond what you can imagine.
And yes. It’s strange to think about pain – it feels shameful. I feel ashamed to talk about it but this is what I am in. It presses down on my chest and makes my face smaller. I know it will subside and I am looking forward to it. Again, surprising comfort has emerged from surprising corners of my life and very sadly, not from the obvious ones. But, following on from what I’ve learned from yin yoga (with Emma Peel), building on the rubble of hopelessness and despair I’ve felt in recent months contemplating the magnitude of racism and social injustice, I believe in myself. It almost seems ridiculous but I think it boils down to survival. That concept may seem a bit big, given I don’t seem to be in what one might consider a war zone.
I’ve been thinking about who and what I’m fighting. What’s important? What’s precious?
PS – “You don’t have to know how to fly a plane to get on a plane” – via David Shore
*Such a pleasure to enjoy myself in this way. I’ve missed this. It’s a strange truth for me, and maybe for other artists, that when I’m free to be with my body, exploring my ideas, in my rhythm, in a space I choose to be in, with people who are present – when I am fully myself – it’s pure. Freedom. Home.