So you want to be an actress . . . or, moving beyond performance

When I was a little girl piano recitals terrified me.  They made me want to throw up.  All the Chopin and Mozart that my 8-year-old brain had memorized would completely disappear on performance day.

Speaking in front of my class or other public gatherings also made my stomach churn.  How I dreaded those required “extemporaneous speeches.”

Singing for others, however, made me only marginally nervous.  The more I sang — alone or in groups — the more natural and relaxed I felt.

Now, after a lifetime of virtually no experience performing the spoken word, how is it I find myself with a role in an upcoming production of The Vagina Monologues?

When I first thought about learning my two-page monologue, I felt intimidated.  I wondered if I’d lost my mind to get involved with this project.  I fervently wished I could sing my words, instead of speak them!

As I practice my part now, something really beautiful is happening.  I’m surprised to find that the mind-stretching process of memorization is actually fun.  Sure, sometimes an adrenaline rush causes me to flub my lines in rehearsal.  Of course, I hope this doesn’t happen in front of a live audience.  But it might.

It’s super-helpful for me to remember that spoken-word performance can be just like musical performance in that it doesn’t have to be perfect.  In fact, it doesn’t have to a performance at all.  I prefer to think of it as a sharing of who I am.

When I say I’m performing, I feel like I’m setting myself apart from those I’m speaking or singing for.  It feels oddly foreign.  Exclusive.  Not a communal process.

Playing a role or making music is about inviting listeners, as well as myself, to a deeper, more expansive way of experiencing life.  It’s about stretching my heart, transcending my old story of performance anxiety, and offering to create genuine connection with others.

See you on Opening Night!

Santa Fe residents: You can purchase tickets for the 3/14/15 performance of The Vagina Monologues at http://www.ripetolife.com/performances/

“My mother used to iron the rags!”

“My mother used to iron the rags!” my friend sobbed.  “I wanted so much to help her be free of that burden . . . but she kept doing it almost til the day she died.”

Perfectionists and recovering perfectionists out there, what’s your version of “ironing the rags?”  What’s it look like when you’re trying to keep your world in the “just so” box?

I have a brilliantly clear memory of myself as a newlywed, getting a load of clean laundry out of the dryer and going absolutely berserk because there was white lint on the dark brown towels.

When I was married with two teenagers I lived in a house with off-white wall-to-wall carpeting.  I remember countless times walking into the living room after work and before I’d even put down my bundles, I’d be picking bits of leaves and grass and string off the carpet.

My off-the-chart obsessiveness about cleanliness and organization held me prisoner for a long time, never allowing me to completely relax. I had chosen to believe a story about myself that declared, “As long as you keep your house, yourself, your relationships, your finances neat and tidy, you’ll be in control.  You’ll avoid messy surprises.”

Of course, another aspect of this story is that working so hard to maintain predictability in all realms of life can drive you nuts!  It’s unbelievably stressful and exhausting . . . and it’s impossible.

Holding on to your expectations — about the rags being wrinkle-free or your house being spotless or your marriage always being harmonious — is definitely a choice you can make.

I wonder, though, if there’s another more spacious and loving story you might want to start exploring for yourself.  Right now.  Before you die and leave your loved ones a full drawer of perfectly ironed rags.