I’ve got a piece in rehearsal. I was asked several days ago to submit another, longer piece for consideration for production, based upon my query, which I did. I’m currently working on a trio of pieces that follow the same three female characters and have a well-revised draft of acts one and two. I’m moving into the third tomorrow. I have actors scheduled to come over and read them next Thursday and a reading in front of colleagues the first Saturday of February…

I was going to concentrate my posts this week on the piece I have in rehearsal, but that was until I realized that this writing period of mine ends in exactly two weeks. It ends abruptly, willy-nilly, until the next potentially uninterrupted period of time arrives at the end of the school year in June, the fifth month from now. I would add, I’m sad, but truth is, I’m relieved. I’ve been going at a pace…

I had cancer exactly thirteen years ago. Since then, due to my adverse reaction to one of the chemotherapy drugs, I’ve experienced one or two pneumonias a year. That is, until October of 2011 when my doctors sent me to UCLA after another week-long hospital stay on massive doses of Prednisone and intravenous antibiotics. Surprisingly, even to me, I’ve been pneumonia-free for fifteen months. Even as much as I’d like to say, it’s because I eat, exercise, and sleep well, it’s really because of the legal pharmaceuticals I take to stay well. I am grateful for them.

I saw this meme appear on my Facebook News Feed yesterday. It is attributed to Buddha:

“The trouble is, you think you’ve got time.”

I don’t. Do you?

Read one of the questions that make you go, hmm, last night. Words to the effect, why does anybody with taste care about what happens on an awards show?

I care because sometimes there is that perfect illuminating moment that reminds me who I am and why I do it.

I watched the 2013 Golden Globes. And then came Jodie Foster. And I wept. And I wondered at her unique intelligence. At her way of putting words together and her love, love, love. How she glowed with it.

“But it will be my writing on the wall: Jodie Foster was here, I still am, and I want to be seen, to be understood, deeply, and to be not so very lonely.”

“To be not so very lonely.” Oh. When I first started writing for the theater I was certainly not ready to be read, but I did feel like I was coming home. Where I would be accepted, embraced, invited in.

My how things have changed since I was a young actress and first read Moss Hart’s Act One. Who knew the home I longed for was 1930s Broadway?

For even as I pine, I am deeply alone in my writing space with canned classical softly playing in the background.

For I live today and today is not stuff made from my youthful dreams of theater. Yet, I will continue to write.

For even if there is nobody to who can see or understand me, Nobody can take away my longing to be not so very lonely.

In December I went to see Elevator Repair Service’s production of GATZ at the REDCAT downtown. GATZ was the enactment of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel The Great Gatsby. Word for word. You read that right. Every “and” and “the” and “he said / she said.” The show started at 2 p.m. and we got out of there (with a few breaks including one for dinner) at some time after 10 p.m. I loved it.

It began with one worker grabbing a paperback copy of Gatsby when his computer wouldn’t boot up. He casually and without any emotion read aloud from the book, as if he was just passing time ’til his computer would get going. The computer never did and he kept reading… the story pulling him in, and us along with it. As the book progressed and the “play” unfolded, he slowly took on the role of Nick the narrator with his fellow office workers taking on the other roles. Seamlessly.

Props and furniture around the office were incorporated to help create the world of the book. Papers in manila file folders were tossed around to create a party atmosphere, a clock on a desk became part of Gatsby’s fancy boat, his tailor-made shirts were kept in file cabinets.

My only quibble was that sometimes the humor on stage undercut the actual Gatsby story (and the three English teachers I happened to be sitting next to seemed to feel the same way). It’s a minor quibble because I was totally in the world of these characters. Fortunately somewhere in the mid-point, the humor was no longer a part of the staging, so the tragic events that happen later were allowed their full weight.

By the end, Scott Shepherd, who played our narrator, had put down the book and “told” us the last 10 – 15 minutes, no longer reading it. He’d totally become Nick and was relaying the final moments as if they were a part of his life.

Not only was the audacity of this production inspiring, so was Elevator Repair Service’s tenacity in mounting it. It took them literally years to get the rights to do it… and they even began rehearsing before they had the rights. They invited audiences to what they decided to call “working rehearsals” and not “performances” to stay below the radar.

Let’s hear it for tenacity and doing art outside the box.

I’ve covered aspects of this area here before, but now I’ve got scientific proof on my side!

I don’t do well with abstract / rambling plays. Perhaps the playwright intended for the story to make cohesive sense and they just weren’t able to execute it. That happens. I’ve been there. And then there are the writers who are doing, ah, experimental work. Fast and furious dialogue that doesn’t quite add up. Actors jumping around the stage showing how their physicality embodies their emotions. It’s fun up to a point. And that point is the point where I start to long for a story. You know. Beginning, middle, end, protagonist, conflict, escalating stakes, some big question on the table, and a resolution of some sort.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m asking too much, wanting something that pulls me along in some kind of linear fashion. I’m not looking for a return to an old-fashioned kind of play like The Subject Was Roses; I just want to feel satisfied at the end of the evening.

And then I read an article in The Sun Magazine, November 2012 issue. (The Sun is my all-time fav magazine, by the way. Do yourself a favor and check it out on-line, and then go get a subscription. Interviews, essays, photos, short stories, poetry, and contributions called Readers Write – and nearly everything is thoughtful and thought-provoking. Bonus, there are NO ADS.) Anyway, in an interview called “If Only We Would Listen,” writer-speaker-activist Parker J. Palmer was making the point that school systems are failing students by focusing on dumping facts into students’ heads and calling it education.

He says, “We know from research that the brain’s weakest function is the retention of isolated bits of data. Its strongest function is the retention of pattern, narrative, story, and system. The brain is a patterning organ, and it thrives on making connections, which is why I say that good teachers have a ‘capacity for connectedness.’”

Finally, an explanation on why I love a story. I get to find a pattern, make connections, and hang on to the narrative. I’m not cranky. I’m hard-wired this way.

After my last post, “The Company”, I had a conversation with Kevin about his experience making the movie.

How did you work out the problem with the fire marshall? You told me the building was on a fire watch, and would have to buy a $700 permit and pay some city worker$65/hour during the filming.

Kevin:   We had to shut down the production indefinitely. Even if I could have gotten the film permit over the phone, the fire marshall would not let us continue shooting without a full-time paid fire official on the set. I couldn’t afford that. What was most frustrating about the whole situation was that the manager of the warehouse had been calling the city for an entire year trying to get them to come in and do what they were required to do – inspect the sprinkler system. So it’s clear the city knew about the problem for an entire year. In lieu of sending in an inspector they just put the building on a fire watch until they could get around to it. In the end, the manager hired someone to come in and fix the problem, which turned out to be replacing one or two sprinkler heads. The fire marshall, who felt bad about what happened, then expedited an official inspection and the building passed. I got the film permit and 3 weeks later we started over. I say started over because I couldn’t use any footage from the day we had to abort. It wouldn’t match. Final cost of shutdown/delay: approximately $2,100 which included the permit and the cancellation fees for the cast and crew.

I know of 3 events that could’ve stopped you from continuing to the finish line:  a) an unscrupulous contractor b) the actor pulled out at the ’11th hours’ c) the fire watch… I know there were other events after these… can you list your most significant challenges (in addition to a negative balance on your bank account 🙂

Kevin:  Regarding a, b, and c, anyone who’s ever produced or directed a film will tell you that what I went though is nothing unusual. Every production has it’s horror stories. And mistakes are made. My hope is to make bigger and better mistakes next time, but to never make the same ones twice. 

As far my most significant challenge, it was wearing too many hats. As director my sole focus should have been on directing. But that is often not the reality for low budget independent film. It certainly wasn’t on this movie. And I think the final product suffered for it. Among the jobs I performed and could have taken credit for are: executive producer, producer, location scout, props, set decoration, casting director, script supervisor, production manager, production assistant, driver, post production supervisor, etc. This was a failure on my part in that I made the same mistake twice. The Company is my third film but I made this mistake on my second one, and I failed to learn from it. At the same time I realize that no one is going to care about The Company as much as I do, period. It’s my dream and I have the most at stake. When there was a job that needed to be done, and no one around to do it, I simply had no other choice…

I like that… “I simply had no other choice…”  Seems like there are situations when this is the “I must”.  In my acting studio at the ‘Imagined Life’, there is a big banner over one of the doors that reads “I must…”  It is a reminder of the philosophy that we are not acting out for appearance sake.  We are doing for the simple motive that I must save my child, I must tell him “I love you”, I must dream big!  You’ve got nothing to lose except missing out on the best ride of your life.

“Ever dream of starting your life over in another town, with another name, in another country? For a fee, an organization called The Company will provide all the documents necessary to create a brand new you in a brand new place.”

Sounds like an offer for a new you for the new year, but it is the slug line for the movie my friend, Kevin McDermott, directed and completed last year.  This blog is dedicated to Kevin, the man who persisted in the face of stumbling events, and an artist with a vision to touch and illuminate the humanity in his audience.

Last year, during the process of realizing the dream that had been gestating, Kevin faced a series of catastrophic events that would probably have dissuaded others from continuing.  Kevin stood up when the situation appeared hopeless, and walked on to finish the movie. 

 I wrote about my Kevin in my blog, “Sail On…” last year (https://lafpi.com/2012/07/off-the-cuff-how-do-you-do-it/).  At that time I called him “Dave” (I wasn’t sure at the time if he felt comfortable to reveal his real name.)  The blog started with, “How do artists face set backs?” 

Some comments from the readers were:

Robin Byrd:  Love this… Love Dave’s resolve to “do it”

Erica Lamkin:  What an inspiration Dave is!  I just know the film will be breathtaking.  I can’t wait to see it!

Last November, the screening for the “The Company” was held at Kimberley Browning of Hollywood Shorts.  I watched Kevin stand among other directors.  He’s a tall man, and he smiles without affectation.  He bowed and humbly he accepted the applause from the audience.

I see Kevin as an artist who quietly whittles at the medium of his art with his heart, body and soul.  He crafted his vision onto the screen with steady resolve and a courageous heart.  He never imposed his hardships except to talk briefly about it, as he seemed to already have a resolution to the problems in his subconscious.  It’s a quality of true character and probably innate in artist to simply see “well into” situations and people, and have the inner confidence to get through it. 

How do artists face set backs?  I know there were times when stayed in the sanctuary of his home to lick the wounds from unexpected events which seemed cruel.  But some of these events turned around to offer a better option than the first choice. 

1. An unscrupulous contractor who took money from Kevin without the intent of building the set.  Kevin swallowed the loss, and took out a loan to continue the work.  He found another contactor who built a great set for the film noire set in the late 50’s.  The new location was better, and Kevin paid less money for the set.
2. The lead actor pulled out the night before the first day of shooting.  After a few weeks delay and he found the actor, Al Bandiero, who was better suited to the role of the main character of Dan
3. At the first day of shooting the movie, a fire marshal shut down the location, because Kevin did not have a fire permit, and also learned that the building was on a “fire watch”.  The cost of the permit would be $700 and he would’ve had to pay $65 per hour to have a Fire Marshall on payroll during the filming. 
4. After the major hurdles there were the expected technical difficulties:  lights, sounds and editing.  The synergy of the people working to make a good movie overcame the smaller hiccups of production.  With imagination, creativity and resourcefulness the people got the show together.  It was a gathering of artists who were dedicated to their craft – costume/hair/makeup; sounds and special effects, music score, lights and props, editing.  Kevin was a master puppeteer, and he coordinated the people and the tasks with great heart and spirit.

What Kevin showed was the art of engaging and engineering people and resources to work together under very difficult circumstances.  I think this is a unique quality that good leaders need to be able to hold a ship together, and to weather bad storms to sail on to a bright horizon.

 The movie is fantastic.  Catch the trailer by going to this link: http://thecompanyshortfilm.com/trailer.html

 To learn more about the movie, go to this link:  http://thecompanyshortfilm.com/

The Company was also an official entry of at the Hollywood Reel Independent Film Festival.  If you missed that one (Dec. 5th, 2012), the movie was also submitted to the Sundance Film Festival.  I remember our conversation about the process of submitting Sundance.  Serendipitously, he discovered the office was in a building only one block away from his apartment building.  We both thought he would have to Fedex the CD to Utah.   On the last date of submitting the CD, I called him to remind him to get it to the submission office on time.    He had already dropped off the package bright and early by the time I called him.  His belief in his purpose is what made this film happen.  This was his “I must”. 

What’s yours for this year?  For me it’s to finish “Original Sin” (no matter how long it takes… I know I’m inching closer to the finish line.)

Three days into the new year, and I’m slowly transitioning from a place of wet marshes to an open space.  I’ve been having dreams with water.  One in particular was treading water with only my right arm which made me swim in circles in a vat.  I ducked my head below the surface to look for sharks.  What I found was a domestic scene:  a kitchen with tables and chairs, and people occupying the seats.  I felt afraid to look closer so I resurfaced, and found myself in a different room.  I sat with a small party of three women.  One woman, heavy and rotund was overbearing and directing the whole show.  I finally got tired of her ways.  I boldly lifted her buttocks off the ground to reveal her dirty underwear.  I left the house, but to get out I had to navigate my way through an entangled web of fishing lines that blocked the door.  When I got through by pushing aside the lines there was an open field beyond the door.  The weather was cool and wintry with the sun breaking through a mild layer of fog.

I think people like to talk about their dreams, and beyond that to understand the underlying message(s) they contain.  It is probably to spend less than third of our lives in a dreaming state (if we’re lucky enough to get the time to be in REM mode.)  Could dreams give us clues and possibly answers to fulfill our soul’s needs and desires?

In the book “Care of the Soul”, Thomas Moore speaks that “Care of the soul requires ‘work’ in the alchemical sense… Sometimes, soul work is exciting and inspiring, but often it is also challenging, requiring genuine courage.  Rarely easy, work with the soul is usually placed squarely in that place we would rather not visit, in that emotion we don’t want to feel, and in that understanding we would prefer to do without.”

Gee, I think that paragraph in the book describes the feeling of the dreamer – avoidance and running away.  Revealing a life beneath the surface of the water – the kitchen where we gather to store away food and staples, make our meals, clean the dishes and hang around as in a kitchen party because it is the modern figurative hearth –the fire of the soul.  Maybe, until I see what’s happening in the kitchen then I’ll continue go in circles around the heart of the matter, and never get it.  Now I can see why I’ve been obsessed with matters of the soul. 

 “A dream may survive a lifetime of neglect or an onslaught of interpretations and remain an icon and a fertile enigma for years of reflection.  The point in working with a dream is never to translate it into a final meaning, but always to give it honor and respect, drawing from it as much meaningfulness and imaginative meditation, not keep it in fixed and tired habits.”

“Care of the Soul” (chapter ‘Dreams:  A Royal Road to Soul)

 Dreams are images that encapsulate powerful doses of chemicals that motivate thoughts and feelings.  A certain color, smell or sound evokes memories.  I like it that I can still invoke a feeling of my mother’s closeness by the smell of her favourite perfume mingled with her natural oils.  Overtime, my ability to recreate that fragrance from my imagination fades.  Interestingly, I got her favourite scent as a Christmas gift for her this year.  I need to sneak a bit of that “1000” onto a handkerchief and ask her to tuck it into her bra.  This is how she use to stash away her hanky (or maybe her way of beefing up her bosoms.)

 While my mother visits for the holidays, I’ve been struggling with past emotions that I’ve hung onto so closely that my knuckles are white and my hand feels numb.  I recognize my need to let go.  New year is a time of renewal.  I wonder if it will ever be right between her and me, and it may never be right but only better and easier.  I like this imagery from an Indian myth about Krishna:

 His foster mother is told that her little boy is outside eating mud.  She goes out to clean the mud out of his mouth, and when he opens his mouth, he reveals to her all the heavens and hells and gods and demons in himself.  She is of course, stunned by this display, and her relationship to him would be pretty well damaged from then on if she remembered it, so he very kindly erases it from her memory.

– “A Joseph Campbell Companion:  Reflections on the Art of Living”

 There is another part to that story, but I’m only using what is needed here for now.  It is the kindness to erase the memory.  As I move further out into another year, I need to remember to be kinder, and erase traces of the past that do not add to happiness and fulfillment.

(I’ve decided to forgo the sequel of Soul Work Part 1, 2 and so on, because soul work will be ongoing till my last breath.  So I borrowed the title from a song by Todd Rundgren, “A Dream Goes On Forever”.)

Soul work is house work.  These words came to me at 4:30 this morning while scrubbing the kitchen floor with vinegar-water, and the dog soaked in the warm bath to wash away the stench of urine.  This is soul work, I thought.  I love her, but man… this is tough.  I miss the days when I can bounce out of bed and grab the leash while Chloe eagerly waited for me at the door, running to and fro in her excitement to play outside in the crisp cold morning and explore the canyon.  Now she’s fifteen years old.

Some mornings, like today, I’m happily relieved that she is aroused by the sound of my voice calling her name, “Chloe?”  It’s the last day of 2012, and I wonder if she’ll be with me next year.  I hate myself for asking this question.  To ask it, seems like a betrayal.  I swish the water around her back legs and kiss her nose.  She looks at me, perhaps wondering if she’s being a burden.  Or is it me projecting my thoughts and feelings on her?  I love you I tell her and kiss her again.  You’ve been a wonderful friend.  I don’t mind.

I’m thankful that I have clean water to do this work.  The water is the medium between the spirit and the soul.  There’s a line in the movie “The Company” that goes like this,  “My mother said that rain is the tears of God cleansing away the sins of the world.”  I feel guilty on the days (and some of the days are strung along like paper lamps that I long to come home to a clean home.  Then I remind myself to be patient and loving, because the dog can’t help her condition.  She’s incontinent.  I don’t know when the right time will come to let her go.  I’ve decided that she’ll decide and let me know.

This phase of my relationship with an old friend has been soul work.  What I mean by soul work is getting to the grit and dirt of my frustration, my sadness, my fatigue and everything else that I would label as unkind and ugly about my attitude to the situation.  I cannot shun the work, because the only way through it is to work through it.  Soul work is akin to housework.  Eventually, I or someone I pay to do it, will need to apply the elbow grease to clean up the mess.  But it is the act of applying myself to the work that will absolve me of my “guilt” for my unworthy feelings.

This past year has been my hunger year for anything “soul” related.  I hunted down the thrift store for psychology and self-help books on the soul.  I read “Soul Stories” by Gary Zukov, and also his other book, “Seat of the Soul”.  These were good.  I found a treasure in Thomas Moore’s “Care of The Soul:  A guide for cultivating depth and sacredness in everyday life.”  Thomas Moore uses mythology and archetypes to describe the reflections of the soul like the lights of a crystal spinning on an axis.  In his book, I found the reasoning to accept my feelings.

There are many events that I question, “Why?”.  Some things just do not make sense despite my best intentions.  The challenge is how I choose to think and react to the circumstances.  In the beginning I didn’t understand the change happening to the dog a couple of years ago.  Then, slowly I began to open my eyes that the happy, limber puppy was suddenly an old dog.  She was suddenly a dog with arthritis and a heart that still bore the spirit of a loyal and trusting friend.

My experience with Chloe is one of other soul stories I am sharing with you.  It has been a very challenging couple of years.  I know a few in our own circle that have had their share of soulful experiences.  What keeps us going is that spirit of aspiring to be a better person.  It is a matter of awareness and choice.  I don’t mean to seem dogmatic like I’ve got it figured out, because I feel I’m so far away from that.

But I really want to forgive myself for feeling unkind sometimes.  The body is a perfect machine.  The organs work synchronously to sustain life.  When we cut our finger the systems works as a team and sends chemicals to the injury so that the blood will clot, and the immune system is activated to kill germs and bacteria.The body perfectly designed to expire after some wear and tear, or when the timing was just right for the body to be at rest.

Our society is obsessed with prolonging life and capturing timeless beauty.  I begin to open my eyes to the perfect-imperfect design of life and death.

After I drain the bath water and hoist Chloe over the lip of the tub, I tease her, “How did you get so big?!  How did you do it?”  I coo the words to her in a tone of loving humor.  At 5 o’clock I take a reprieve from the task.  I know that in a few hours I will be doing the  same thing over again.