Tell me, if you win, would it show? In a thousand years, who would know?

EVERYONE WATCH THIS:

This man came into one of my classes yesterday. Ben Cameron, currently Program Director for the Arts at the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation, former Executive Director of the Theater Communications Group, etc., etc. Remember when I gushed on about Brian McLaren? Same deal here. Infinitely inspiring and positive. A lot of what he talked about he covers in this TED talk... but he started by talking about the importance of core values, both as organizations and as individuals. He defined a core value as something you will continue to do even if you're punished for doing it, which I thought was beautiful. He spoke of that really in relation to his career path--lots of things have fallen into place for him and he attributes that to following his core values, which have helped him know when to say yes and when to say no. On that note, he mentioned that often in school they help us discover what we want to do and how we can go about doing it, but the driving force that will carry us through is actually WHY we do it, and that "burnout isn't physical exhaustion, it's when you get disconnected from what's important to you". Which, as we may recall, was the impetus for starting this blog, for going away to Montreat to begin with... I was disconnected from what was important to me (God), and so I went back there to reconnect.

Something he spoke a lot about was about the arts connecting to communities, to people, the idea that the arts have something to give. He spoke of organizations that do not impose themselves on communities, but rather work with and engage communities, who make their work for a purpose that is not just about making art but rather affecting the individual. I've been thinking a lot about this for the past couple years, but particularly this semester as my classes have really widened to looking at life outside school, the business of theater, non-profit organizations. And, of course, the eternal questions of "how do you find ways to practice your art when life gets in the way?" and such. There's this idea that we, of course, feel that we must practice our art unless we'll be miserable and die. I don't feel that way. I don't need to practice "my art", whatever that means. I don't care enough about it. But I care about the world and I care about YOU, and I love the world and you deeply and the best way I know for ME to be the caregiver I am called to be us through art.

Ego is a tricky little thing. I don't think it's evil, I think it must be used well. The arts are often thought of as an ego-driven field... perhaps they are, and perhaps that's not a bad thing. The ego that causes us to share what we have so that others can use it is surely a good thing. But the ego that has us starting new organizations to do what's already being done? Not sure about that. Do we need another off-off-Broadway nonprofit focusing on reinventing Shakespeare? Several of us in Ghana got into a screaming (literally, even I screamed) argument about this in regards to NGOs. It's a complicated issue, but there's often this aspect of "I want to have MY non-profit!" which I don't think is ultimately that useful. Do we need, in this economy, more theaters that serve the same need? No, I don't think so... particularly when there are other needs that are NOT being met. Ben Cameron today mentioned theaters whose mission is basically keeping their doors open. What are they doing? Why does it matter? It seems selfish to me.

Don't get me wrong. There are people who create work that is so totally them and for them and I love it. I get to go into their brains for a few hours and it's the best time. There's value in it, but it's not the only option, and often it's an overexplored option.

Our world is changing rapidly, with technology advances, economical problems, globalization. And in this, the arts are going to be extraordinarily important (or maybe we'll ignore them and be far worse off). Training in the arts is training in flexibility, collaboration, communication, and creative problem-solving, and that's what we need right now when our old systems crumble and new possibilities arrive on the scene every day. I actually feel much more prepared to enter the "job market" than if I'd been an English major, because in theater we learn how to create jobs for our selves, we learn how to work with all kinds of people. And with these tools that the arts have, they could surely bring people together more than they are now.

Now they're not, really. Besides a few noteworthy examples of companies (which Ben Cameron mentions), and besides certain socio-economic groups of audience members who find themselves engaged by current theatrical performances. But are we actually reaching new people? Are we actually helping them? Do we care about that? There are questions being asked about how to continue to development of theaters, questions about how to attract donors and audience members and it's all about how to engage people for OUR purposes, not for THEIR OWN purposes. It treats them as commodities, rather than people with their own point of view, their own value and validity. This superiority we can feel towards those not in the "professional theater world" is really not useful to anyone. It's when the ego is paired with a feeling of superiority that things become truly selfish and even hurtful.

It seems to me that we have so many things we can learn from each other. For me, I notice it between the arts and religion--two worlds I have feet strongly planted in. Someone who knows more about science than I do can find it there, we can find it anywhere, and communication between groups that might not otherwise talk is imperative to moving forward as a society. If we admit that communication is a vital part of person-to-person relationships, why don't we realize that communication between groups is vital how we function as a world?

I think it's fear. Honestly, truly, I think it's fear. When you enter into conversation with someone who is not coming from the same place as you, truly enter into CONVERSATION with them, not just trying to prove your point without listening, you open yourself up to conflict. Things can be uncomfortable, you can be wrong, things you've believed might be challenged, not only by someone else, but by you yourself. And that's understandably scary, but we cannot move forward incestuously. It's safe, but causes atrophy.

Ben Cameron likened this shift to the Protestant Reformation. (The second he did this in class, my face lit up and several people furtively glanced at me.) He spoke of the internet and the printing press operating in similar ways, and the thing that really got me was the idea that the Reformation challenged the idea that we needed an intermediary (ie: the Roman Catholic church). With more and more access to means of creating art becoming available, the Myth of the Artist Bringing Aesthetic Experiences to the Layman is graying. Just as the Roman Catholic church would say, "We are your way to God," there are artists today that say, "We are your way to Art." And as the Protestant church was made to say, "We all can touch God, let's help each other do that," artists can turn to saying, "We can all create art, let's help each other do that."

He made sure to note that it's not like we need to obliterate what already exists. The Roman Catholic church is still here and helping tons of people. But now there are more ways for different people to worship and grow closer to God, engaging those who would be shut out by the Roman Catholics (myself included). This is the direction art can move. IS moving. And we can help it.

We got into a class discussion about all this, and I mentioned my working at Montreat, meeting people who were so interested in theater, weren't "theater people" at all, but brought in completely new perspectives and energies, and why WOULDN'T we use that? When I said, "I worked at a Presbyterian conference center in North Carolina for two summers," Ben interrupted and said, "Which one?" I said, "Montreat," and he said, "I've been there! I'm from North Carolina and did church camps and all that." Later when our teacher asked him what he'd be doing if he wasn't doing what he was doing, he looked at me and said, "You know, with mentioning Montreat and all that, I think I would've been a preacher." The two of us chatted for a bit after class, I told him about Brian McLaren, and we reminisced about Black Mountain, Pisgah, Swananoa. Hilarious and lovely. At one point in the class he even mentioned theater artists teaching speech to clergy to help with scripture reading. (OH HI. HI.)

It was such a breath of fresh air to have class with him, and validated a lot of what I've been thinking. We had to write mission statements for one of my producing classes this semester, and for the life of me I couldn't comprehend starting a theater company for its own sake, so my statement had to do with a company that would engage various theatrical and spiritual communities in communication and collaboration, so we can explore together, and grow together, and affect each other and be vital to all of our lives. My teacher said he hadn't heard a mission statement like that before and I wanted to slam my head into a wall.

Because frankly?

Art doesn't matter.

Lives matter tremendously.

There is life outside...

On the life-and-"career" front, things are going quite well. I'm working on a million shows. (well, nine. approximately.) Many sound designs, one directing, a some dramaturgy, a bit of dialect coaching, and generally being available for technical questions/helping those who don't understand sound technology. Several shows outside of school, some paid. The first show goes up on March 7th. There's a TheaterMania.com article about it here, which I think is hilarious. Learning TONS, from the shows I'm working on, from the classes I'm in. I'm noticing improvement. I still have a long way to go (but that's what life is for), but I have definitely learned something in these past 4 years. Which is encouraging.

Yesterday, I got the call offering me a position I'd applied for at a theater upstate this summer. I'll explain more when it gets closer, but it's kind of like a summerstock training deal, where you have to pay if you go as an actor but as a designer you get a full ride (including housing) and a weekly stipend. I'll be designing nine shows and assisting professional designers on others. It's a fabulous opportunity for young designers to actually DESIGN instead of just do tech things, and bridge the gap from school to professional world. And frankly, it's one of the only programs of this kind available for sound designers. There's MUCH more out there for set, costumes, and lighting.

I was chatting with one of my former teachers about this, she asked about the dates, I told her I was there until September 1st, and she said, "And then what?"

And I blanked. Having reached, of course, the first point in my life where I have no concrete plans past a certain point. (This is particularly common for people in theater as our jobs are all so temporary.) The "what are you doing this summer?" question has been answered, but it's not like, "Oh, I'll go back to school in the fall, of course." I'll be done. Grad school, maybe, in the future. Seminary, likely, in the future. But right now? I have no idea what I'm doing come September, beside abstract plans. So I stuttered, "Uhm..." and she said, "Then it's the rest of your life."

Right.

I'm not worried about it, especially with the opportunities that have come my way this semester. I feel prepared. I don't know what's going to happen. But that's actually thrilling.

The wind blows where it wants to. You hear its sound, but you don't know where it comes from or where it is going. That's the way it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit. --John 3:8. (which, I've been told, will be making an appearance at lectionary-following churches near you this March!)

Tune my heart to sing thy praise...

I randomly walked into St. Marks Bookshop the other day, and found there, in the religious section, a book called The Mysticism of Sound of Music: the Sufi Teaching of Hazrat Inayat Khan. Seeing as the things I care most about are mysticism and sound, I'm obsessed with Sufism, and the book has chapters called, "The Spiritual Significance of Color and Sound", "The Effect of Sound on the Physical Body", "Spiritual Attainment by the Aid of Music", "The Power of the Word", and "The Word that was Lost"... this is the perfect book for me.

I'm sharing, here, the introduction, because it's beautiful.

I gave up my music because I had received from it all I had to receive. To serve God one must sacrifice the dearest thing, and I sacrificed my music, the dearest thing to me.

I had composed songs, I sand, and played the vina. Practising this music I arrived at a stage where I touched the music of the spheres. Then every soul became for me a musical note, and all life became music. Inspired by it I spoke to the people, and those who were attracted by my words listened to them instead of listening t my songs.

Now, if I do anything, it is to tune souls instead of instruments, to harmonize people instead of notes. If there is anything in my philosophy, it is the law of harmony: that one must put oneself in harmony with oneself and with others.

I have found in every word a certain musical value, a melody in every thought, harmony in every feeling, and I have tried to interpret the same thing with clear and simple words to those who used to listen to my music.

I played the vina until my heart turned into the same instrument. Then I offered this instrument to the divine Musician, the only musician existing. Since then I have become His flute, and when He chooses He plays His music. The people give me credit for this music which, in reality, is not due to me, but to the Musician who plays on His own instrument.

Yeah.

Also:

If only we would listen to the voice of all the beauty that attracts us in any form, we would find that in every aspect it tells us that behind all manifestation is the perfect Spirit, the Spirit of wisdom.

Actually I would like to quote all of this book, as it is apparently everything I believe. (hmm... Lent?)

It just defined music as the movement of beauty.

guuuuuuh.

O blest creator source of light...

Grace Episcopal, where I attend church in New York, is currently undergoing restoration. It's a gorgeous Gothic revival church, but right now they're working on the chancel aisles, which means that there is currently scaffolding covered by white tarp on both sides of the chancel. They're hoping to have this done by Easter, which would be an incredible reveal, to speak in theatrical terms.

I have developed a minor obsession with Medieval architecture, particularly in regards to religious buildings (I went to the Cloisters yesterday and reveled). This began on my Europe trip and has grown since then. I'm fascinated by the transition from Romanesque to Gothic, how the pointed arches distributed weight and allowed buildings to be built taller with more opportunities for windows. Light. Light light light.

Something that I think I knew in the back of my head but didn't quite realize until I went to Chartres was that these buildings were not built to look gloomy. We see these buildings, and they're old, the stone is dark, often the glass is too, but that's not how they were built, that's what's accumulated around them over the years. Check out these pictures of the restoration of Chartres. The difference is obvious - the stone is closer to white than brown, and I just imagine how the place will change when that restoration is done.

Similarly, I love to gaze at the south transept at Grace, the restoration of which was recently completed. Pictures here. There is so much light, so much air, it's breathtaking.

One of the many things I find so beautiful about these places is the contrast. Stone, this heavy substance, strong and powerful, creating a space for such beautiful light. We need each other.

Lux æterna luceat eis, Domine,

cum sanctis tuis in æternum,

quia pius es.

Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine;

et lux perpetua luceat eis ;

cum Sanctis tuis in æternum,

quia pius es.

What-where-when-why-who?

I had a beautiful religious experience walking home from class this morning.

This is a sign in Copenhagen that someone was kind enough to share with me. This morning I googled the phrase just to see what would come up, and found an article that spoke of the importance of curiosity to a satisfied life. Interesting. Went to class, got a Jewish perspective on the Song of Songs (I love my life), bought the last of my textbooks, then headed back to my apartment. I was walking along 4th St between Broadway and Lafayette, and I happened to glance up at a building and see "SILK BUILDING" etched in the stone. Suddenly I became curious as to why it was called the Silk Building. And as I looked around, I started asking, "Why? How?" to so many things I saw. Like a small child playing the "Why?" game. I might be able to find the answer to some of these, like the question of the name of that building, why cords get gnarly when you use them so much, or why that architectural style came to be. Some of them I will probably never have the answer to, like who graffitti'd that mailbox and why, what drew that old woman to wear a red coat with a pointy hood, or what was going through the head of the person who designed that streetlight?

And I stopped there on Lafayette, laughing, as I realized that curiosity is all about asking these questions.

Because that's what religion is, too. Asking questions of why and how, on a cosmic level. It may look like religion is in the business of handing out simple answers. ("How did the world come to be?" "Easy, God created it in seven days in this order.") But the further I've delved into religion, the more I've seen that religion does not give answers to these questions, but rather, religion gives language to be able to delve into the question. How can we begin to talk about something that transcends language? By creating a language for that purpose. And that's what religion does.

And you know what? Those questions are also being asked by science. And they're also being asked by art. Religion, science and art don't talk that much. Don't talk as much as we should for those exploring the same questions. Perhaps we'd all do well to put the fear we have of each other aside, and be curious together.

You are why I live.

Dear World,

What do you need and how can I help?

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Love,

Colleen

Turn Back O Man

The beginning of the sermon today:

Rector: Jesus said, "You have heard that it was said, ‘Do not commit adultery.’ But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart."

(pause)

Now that I've got your attention...

sermon humor!

Selfishness, really...

Wisdom from my Design teacher today:

Guilt is a selfish emotion.

Had not thought about this before. Not going to expand too much on it because I don't think it needs it. Guilt is, perhaps, a step above ignorance and indifference, because it's an acknowledgement of what you have or have not done, but it's selfish because it's still not taking action. You can sit around feeling guilty all you want, that doesn't change anything.

Life is good. Settling in. Found my footing, which is nice. Vastly overcommitted, which is actually the best thing I can be because it makes it so I don't have time to freak out too much and be afraid and avoid making choices. It's go go go and that's fabulous for me creatively. Finding it very strange that I lived in Africa for 4 months. Saw a bunch of my Ghana friends last night, and it was surreal talking to them. Particularly to my roommate, who'd heard me talk about PHTS and theater and the people I missed so much while we were in Ghana... because now I was talking to her about how I'm at PHTS all the time again or say, "yeah, when so-and-so and I were talking today," instead of "oh my gosh I just got an email from so-and-so who I haven't heard from in ages I miss them!" Bizarre to have been away. Bizarre to be back. I don't think either of those things will ever go away and that's okay.

Today was a turning point and I don't even really know what sparked it. Good classes (particularly inspiring Producing class, and I didn't know Producing classes were allowed to be inspiring), good rehearsals. I guess God was polite and waited for me to get my feet relatively planted before throwing anything at me (which He did today). Good to hear His voice again, though. Always.

I am sincerely moved by the responses I got to my last blog, both electronically and in person. If there's any thought I have that can be of use to someone else, that's a blessing.

All is empty...

The moment where I decided I didn't want to be a professional actor was a very distinct one. I was a sophomore in high school, and I was watching a friend of mine, who was, at the time, the epitome of "I'm going to go to New York and become an ACTOR", dance in show choir, and I thought, "I don't want this life." It wasn't anything against acting, I liked acting, but not enough for me to really be okay with embracing the lifestyle of an actor (which is very tough and I have enormous respect for anyone who can do that). A scary moment for me, though, since I didn't really know what there was to do besides acting--the moment where I stepped back, zoomed out, got perspective on what I was doing, the environment I was in.

I had a similar moment in Design on Wednesday, as thoughts turned more towards what happens when we get out into the real world. I'm not that scared of the real world. That's not the issue. Going into it is frightening, sure, but it's just a system. That's all. Like how school is a system, the "professional world" is a system, and while the process of learning it is daunting and scary, I know I can do it. I'm good with systems. But something about the whole life of being a New York theater artist, that image, rubbed me the wrong way. A very clear, somewhat scary, moment of displacement. My mind raced for a moment into the "oh no Colleen are you thinking that you don't want to do theater what are you going to do", then I quickly calmed myself down. I DO want to do theater. When I don't do it for a long time I miss it. So I wrote down (in that code I write things like this in); "What about this life don't I want?"

This is too big of a question for me to answer in the span of a few days, but something I have noticed:

I love art because, at its best, it can enable us to see our world more beautifully. After a conversation in Lighting on Wednesday about how many kinds of white light exist, and conversation in Design on Friday about how the sunlight actually changes the color of otherwise unchangeable buildings, I walked outside yesterday morning and stopped in my tracks. Because I was noticing the light, which was a cool white, crisp, but soft, and the colors of my street, more muted, became this perfectly harmonious palate. And shape, silhouette, became more vibrant, from the strict rectangular frame of the buildings on the street to that rebellious, spindly tree, to the birds flying around the steeple of St. Mark's Church. My God. Art can help us to see and hear with more spirit, to find beauty in all things.

But, in the worst attitude, art can shut us off. There are artists who move through life rejecting any aesthetic experience that is not "their work", "their art", or "art" in general. Anything that they feel is outside the realm of "art" is not considered valid, and disdain for anything but the art pervades. If they notice anything, they only notice it in relation to how it could be used for their art, not taking the time to appreciate the mere existence of that object. Variations on this attitude are far too prevalent. It's something about the ego--not the debate over whether the ego is good or bad, because it's not either, but rather about how you use it.

Whenever I start to have weird feelings about art, the opening of Ecclesiastes pops into my head. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." Pessimistic, to be sure, but I believe it. There's such a truth there. In so many ways, everything is pointless, and random, and we're just dust floating around on this world and then we disappear. Written on my computer desktop right now is the phrase, "Eventually, they will all forget you." It's the idea that everyone I know and care about and love deeply will eventually forget about me. I will cease to matter to them. My personalization of "vanity of vanities, all is vanity". The concept breaks my heart, but I use it to push forward, to learn to give without expecting anything back. I expect so much--time, care, recognition--and I think life would be more fun if I didn't expect anything.

There is very little in life that is permanent. There is so much you can't count on. People will leave. The economy will fail. You'll lose everything you've gained. You'll doubt that which you believe in. The one thing that you'll always have, though, is your perception of the world. You're always going to be experiencing this world in some way. You'll be seeing or hearing or feeling or smelling or tasting (hopefully all five). That experience is free and there for YOU... why discount any of it? It's the only thing you'll always have. Why not learn to use it, to cherish it, to revel in it? You can lose the things you've built up for yourself and when there's so much out there that can be used to inspire, to gaze, to simply love... why not? If we are all insignificant, find the joy in an insignificant twig, and suddenly nothing's insignificant.

"Art for art's sake"? I can appreciate it, sure. But I'm not interested in it. Art for our sakes. Art for your sake. Art for the sake of a bunch of lonely people trying to make meaning when they find none. I like my art to engage with the world, not shut it out. Which is, incidentally, the same way I like my religion.

Oh to find the pattern underneath...

Search, yes, absolutely, that's vital and important.

But also allow yourself to find, because finding is the scary part.

Finding doesn't necessarily mean understanding.

Love,

your sound designer.

Is this home?

So I’m back at school.

Logistics first, shall we? As I’m getting a lot of questions.

My non-studio classes are Intro to Jewish Mysticism and Face-to-Face: Philosophy, Ethics, and the Actor. I don’t think I need to explain to anyone reading this blog why I’m taking Intro to Jewish Mysticism, or how pleased I was reading a definition of mysticism aloud in class, or in general how much this class completes my life. (I’ll say that mysticism is my primary religious interest at this moment, and has been for at least a year. Never studied Jewish mysticism before, though have done a lot of delving into Christian and Islamic mysticism). Face-to-Face is a class that’s hard to give a good description of, but we got into a giant heated debate last class that was lots of fun, and the teacher is incredible. So I’ve heard. She wasn’t in class last week because she was in Norway, but every teacher I already love who has met her loves her, every student I know who has taken a class with her says she’s incredible, and she makes hats.

At studio (PHTS), I am doing design track. Design track is a strange little entity that hasn’t really existed until this year. One person did it last semester, two of us are doing it this semester, and all three of us are/have been doing it in different ways with different focuses. Talk about individualized education... this is it. My studio curriculum this semester comes from articulating what I want to do and that I want to work on to people who have been watching me, my interests, my progress, since the fall of 2007. It’s been enormously fun watching this semester come together. Class-wise, I’m taking everything. Two producing classes (which are the ‘oh no I’m about to leave and be out of the PHTS system how do I produce work in the real world?!’ panic classes). Colloquium, which you can read the description for here which is largely about expanding the world we think about and allowing us to intersect with different kinds of people. (I absolutely had a religious experience in this class last Monday. And today we had a backstage tour at the Metropolitan Opera and then saw the final dress of Nixon in China. WHAT.) And a class on Shakespeare, which seems largely about how to uncover and impulse based on a rich text. I’m taking three “support” classes, which are basically shorter elective classes, all in design: Lighting, Media, and Sound. I’ve always thought that lighting and I would get along but I’ve never really had the vocabulary to start that relationship, so I’m quite excited for the class. Media is about absolutely brand-new things that are happening in theater right now and is already going to be incredible about opening the mind. I’m also going to be looking for ways that media and sound can intersect, as the text we’re working on begs it and that’s probably going to be pretty important in upcoming years. Sound is one of three classes I’m taking this semester that I’ve already taken. Hah. But this semester the structure is different, the class is much smaller, and the teacher and I have sat down and discussed how I can use this class to move forward, what I want out of it, what I’m working on, and the fact that I’m going to have a lot more work to do because he’s holding me to a higher standard. Awesome. (I said, “I need to never be let off the hook.” He said, “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” I said, “I figured, I just wanted to say it.”)

The other two classes I’m taking again are also design classes. Design III, which is a (generally) third year class giving design support to the people working on 3rd year projects. Opportunities to ask questions, throw out concerns. Some guests are brought in. The primary reason I’m taking this class is for an opportunity to discuss design in a large group of peers. Since design track is so incredibly individualized (which is, of course, awesome), the thing that gets sacrificed is that kind of interaction and group problem solving. I have a weekly check-in with the other design track student and the teacher who’s our grand overseer at PHTS, but while they’re both very smart and we’re a strange trio, but there’s value to the large group, so I’m there.

And then I’m retaking first year Design. For a plethora of reasons. Looking back on it (I’m so ollllllllllld), Design I was the most useful class I’ve taken in college. The story of me and design is that I came into college thinking that I never wanted to do design. I looked on the PHTS website and, while I understood why I had to take Design I, I was convinced that I would fail and the teacher would hate me and I would never ever design a show of my own free will. (The only other class I was unenthused about was Voice and Speech. ...right.) Had I been given the option, I would not have taken Design I. This would have been the worst decision I possibly could have made and I am eternally grateful that I was not given a choice in the matter. What quickly became clear was that this class, and design in general, was asking the same question I’d been asking since one day my junior year of high school, Becker took a folding chair, placed it center stage, saying, “This means something different that this,” and moved the chair to the ustage right corner, “which means something different than this,” and knocked the chair over. I was floored, pounced on him, stole all his books on semiotics, read his thesis which was about musical staging, and spent hours upon hours in the black box or the auditorium coming up with blocking, obsessing over placement of rehearsal blocks. Design I tackled this idea not academically, which is how I’d largely been approaching it (because that’s what I knew), but by teaching us how to look, how to observe what a piece of art was doing, how it made you feel, and how it accomplished that. It’s also an incredible class to work through blocks, with a teacher who’s pushing you to become more and more articulate, skip the fear and CREATE, and, above all, CARE. It’s simultaneously a phenomenal class for theater makers and a safe room to help you become a more articulate, alive, passionate, caring human being. Also I want to steal from the first years, in the same way I like to hang out with people who aren’t necessarily Christian because they ask questions I wouldn’t think to ask. (How quickly our minds become conditioned...) So, I’m there again. Class on Friday was a giant workout, mentally, sensorially. Phenomenal.

This class load indicates a lack of care about “grades” and “credits”. Which are things invented by institutions, not actual measures of learning. I’m not on the roster for two classes I’m taking. I don’t care about being on said roster. I don’t need the “credits” and I don’t particularly care about getting a grade. I know that I’ll get feedback on what I do in the class - that’s what I need. A grade tells me nothing.

Outside of specified class, I have support as well. I essentially have three people mentoring me in various capacities. There’s the teacher who’s overseeing this whole “design track” operation who has been one of my life mentors throughout college, especially the past two years. There’s my sound design teacher who’s going to be spending time with me outside of class going over equipment, programs, acoustics. (PHTS, in the time I’ve been away, has gotten new sound equipment and has an official “sound studio”. I’m elated. So glad this happened before I graduated.) And then there’s my mentor, who’s a sound designer/composer not affiliated with PHTS which gives me fabulous perspective and has already clued me in on exciting things happening in the sound world. (including 3D sound and touchable holograms. TOUCHABLE. HOLOGRAMS.) So I’ve got two sound designers willing to chat/listen/offer feedback and advice, and then someone who’s NOT a sound person who’s able to give me smart, articulate feedback from the other end of the spectrum.

The major development of today has been that there will be time for those of us in design track (you know, all two of us) to have access to the main theater at PHTS, its equipment, and the sound studio. Hours blocked out specifically for us to experiment and play in a space. In the space where 3 of my 4 designs this semester are going up, in fact. Sound studio equipment reserved specifically for me for a couple hours each week.

So, to review:

1. I have all the classes I want, and no classes I don’t want.

2. I have guaranteed access to equipment.

3. I have people who care and are smart letting me pick their brains and supporting me in what I do and pushing me really hard.

I would like to take this moment to loudly and publicly state that I realize I am so exceedingly lucky, blessed, and spoiled. I prostrate myself before all of you involved with this in sheer inexpressible gratitude. There are no words.

I mean, really. What else is there to ask for? A pony?

I am working, as usual, on an absurd number of shows. 4 sound designs in PHTS, though 6 PHTS shows total (some dramaturgy and dialect coaching thrown in), and a couple out-of-school shows, building my resume and even getting paid. I’ve done 6 shows the last 3 semesters I was at PHTS, and each of those times at least one of the shows I was working on I was there for every rehearsal (be it stage managing or directing). And last spring, if you included the shows I did outside of PHTS, I did 10 shows. So I actually feel pretty secure in my “balancing a million things" abilities.

Emotionally, I’ve been all over the place and I apologize to those who’ve had to deal with me. Talking to Gillian on the phone the night before school started, I realized that I would suddenly see lots of people I hadn’t seen for 8 months, all at once, and my response was dread. I wanted to see all of them, but in individual doses. Strange reaction involving feeling not at at all ready to return to the life I took a hiatus from for 8 months. And, of course, I wasn’t ready, but I never will be, so might as well jump in. The move back to New York was more stressful than I’d like it to have been, but I’m settled now, with a bed and some bookshelves. I like my room, I’ve used the space well, I like the fact that I have two bookshelves with things on them and organized. I feel settled here, which is nice. I like PHTS (duh). I like design meetings. But the moment I leave the apartment, or a meeting, or the PHTS building, I get confused and depressed for no apparent reason. I like my neighborhood. It’s my favorite neighborhood in New York, actually, I’m constantly amazed at how central my location is. I don’t really know what comes over me. I think it has to do with the fact that there are so many people everywhere and we all walk by each other without care, without curiosity over who else is sharing this street, this block, this building... because we have things to do. And those things we have to do are more important to us than people and honestly, I think that’s a grave mismanagement of priorities. There’s also just the readjustment of not feeling like I belong anywhere. I don’t belong in Ghana. I don’t belong here.

The one place that has been a constant relief has been church. Last Sunday these feelings hit a peak and I walked into that building and instantly felt like I belonged there. Such a relief. Then the psalm for that day was number 27:

One thing I ask from the Lord,

this only do I seek:

that I may dwell in the house of the Lord

all the days of my life,

to gaze on the beauty of the Lord

and to seek him in his temple.

...

at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy;

I will sing and make music to the Lord.

Hear my voice when I call, LORD;

be merciful to me and answer me.

My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”

Your face, LORD, I will seek.

Of course.

Went to church yesterday accompanied by two friends. I love it when people come to church with me. Of course, I’m more than happy and content to go alone, but it’s always a nice change when someone comes with, especially when they turn to me and ask, “Hey Colleen, what’s Epiphany?” which was a question I didn’t even think to ask until the answer was given to me a midday eucharist at St John the Divine a couple weeks ago. Phenomenal sermon which will probably be referenced in later blogs.

Went up to the Bronx with some people from NYU in Ghana last semester and discovered the Ghanaian community in New York. Spoke Twi, talked about places in Accra, ate jollof rice, found out where to get palm oil. There’s a Ghanaian restaurant and a Ghanaian market right by each other. It was so warm, so comfortable there. Surprising people by being an obroni asking about waakye and saying “Medaase paa!” Shortly thereafter, I met up with my friend Miriam, who was at PHTS with me for several years and sailed the world doing Semester at Sea last semester. Her boat stopped in Ghana and I visited her in Takoradi. We had the most delightful conversation about globalization, colonialism, and how last semester had changed us.

So, moving forward, I think. Finding places of release. Loving school--very, very strange, though. Like I should be over this already, even though that’s absurd. Spoke to someone recently who said that it was a year after she’d been abroad that she finally started to feel adjusted again. So I’m working to let up the pressure on myself to get through it quickly. It’s about patience. It’s always about patience. I got much more patient with others when I was in Ghana... now I have to learn how to be patient with myself. And I beg all of your patience as well.