The first few times I watched Godspell, before I really got it, the crucifixion bothered me a little bit. Not a lot...just, like the tag of a shirt. Because, yes, there was some "electric fence" theme going on. But not really. There were no soldiers, no nails, no spears. Jesus just had his wrists tied down with ribbons and then proceeded to experience agony and death. It didn't really click. WHY was he dying? HOW was he dying?
And then I was ok with it. The whole thing is metaphorical anyway, right? But just a few days ago I thought of that scene in a way I've never thought before.
Being crucified didn't kill Jesus. Nails didn't drain his life. Soldiers didn't murder him. We did. I did. The weight of the world was on his shoulders, crushing his life. He was drowning in sin, not blood. And then Godspell made his death seem more real than it ever had, to me. Because our sin was enough to make him cry out in agony. And his love was great enough to keep him there; he was only held by scraps of fabric.
His life was not taken from him- he gave it.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
[lightbulb]
I've had it with grown-ups, I think. God, what is it about ourselves that we lose the older we get? I pray to never become as ridiculous as the grown-ups I know.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
tumbling thoughts
I have concluded -through a series of unrelated thoughts stemming over several years- many things about friendships. This is, of course, from how it related to my own experiences. May I never be so presumptuous as to speak for more than myself or my surroundings in absolutes.
I have found that two people cannot be "best friends" (perhaps we'll say "closest friends") when one is in a romantic relationship with somebody else- a third party. I'd venture to say it's the same when both are romantically involved with someone other than the friend in question. Because I think one's mate/spouse/romantic-whatever sort of automatically gets the top slot. If not in all ways (which I think they ought to, if it's the right sort of relationship) at least in many.
Because you tell your best friend everything, right? Or you could. But when there is an awkward thought of third party looming in the back of the mind, that doesn't work. There's a reservation. The other best friend (without the romantic partner) knows that they're in the second slot.
It works. It can still be the closest friendship of its kind. But it doesn't trump.
Ah, and then the matter of boys and girl. How blissful it is when they are young enough to be best friends. Of course, there's the adage "a guy and a girl can't be best friends unless one is actually interested in the other" (I've heard this advocated by men and refuted by men. surprise). Which is actually rubbish in my personal experience. I've seen many examples of best friendships popping up between members of the opposite sex without romantic interest. Of course, these don't last. They can't last. Generally it only works while the parties are young. Children, teenagers, unattached to a romantic partner.
But then...that's how all best friendships are, gender aside. I think one's spouse is the eventual best friend. All other "closest" friendships leading up to that are temporary. But oh...so sweet. Like the whiff of a flower in springtime.
I do love a good best friend, in theory. I've had vague friendships that might fit the category. I've had some, but then they added the romantic variable to their lives. I've had some, but people squinted at the boys and told me it's not proper. But nothing proclaimed. None of the "my best friend is (fill in the blank)." I'm NOT starry eyed and a'waitin' on a husband. But best friendship is an enticing thought. I should like to try it someday.
I have found that two people cannot be "best friends" (perhaps we'll say "closest friends") when one is in a romantic relationship with somebody else- a third party. I'd venture to say it's the same when both are romantically involved with someone other than the friend in question. Because I think one's mate/spouse/romantic-whatever sort of automatically gets the top slot. If not in all ways (which I think they ought to, if it's the right sort of relationship) at least in many.
Because you tell your best friend everything, right? Or you could. But when there is an awkward thought of third party looming in the back of the mind, that doesn't work. There's a reservation. The other best friend (without the romantic partner) knows that they're in the second slot.
It works. It can still be the closest friendship of its kind. But it doesn't trump.
Ah, and then the matter of boys and girl. How blissful it is when they are young enough to be best friends. Of course, there's the adage "a guy and a girl can't be best friends unless one is actually interested in the other" (I've heard this advocated by men and refuted by men. surprise). Which is actually rubbish in my personal experience. I've seen many examples of best friendships popping up between members of the opposite sex without romantic interest. Of course, these don't last. They can't last. Generally it only works while the parties are young. Children, teenagers, unattached to a romantic partner.
But then...that's how all best friendships are, gender aside. I think one's spouse is the eventual best friend. All other "closest" friendships leading up to that are temporary. But oh...so sweet. Like the whiff of a flower in springtime.
I do love a good best friend, in theory. I've had vague friendships that might fit the category. I've had some, but then they added the romantic variable to their lives. I've had some, but people squinted at the boys and told me it's not proper. But nothing proclaimed. None of the "my best friend is (fill in the blank)." I'm NOT starry eyed and a'waitin' on a husband. But best friendship is an enticing thought. I should like to try it someday.
Friday, April 3, 2009
[]
I am commencing an undertaking, hitherto
without precedent and which will never find
an imitator. I desire to set before my fellows
the likeness of a man in all the truth of nature,
and that man myself. Myself alone! I know
the feelings of my heart, and I know men. I
am not made like any of those I have seen. I
venture to believe that I am not made like any
of those who are in existence. If I am not
better, at least I am different.
"The Confessions"
J. J. R.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
it's so simple
The debate.
Man is basically good.
vs.
Man is basically evil.
It's so simple. Just watch a toddler. They KNOW what "no" means. Everyone has shown them and told them the proper way to behave. But they still choose to disobey. They still choose to lick the shoe, to knock over the trash can, to hit their little brother.
No one has to teach a toddler how to be bad. We have to teach them how to be good.
Therein lies the rub. We are not basically good. But we KNOW goodness.
I wonder if that provokes in all the image it provokes in me. Somehow, though we are evil, we instinctively know goodness....and choose to disregard it.
(not to blatantly rip off a man named Clive, but...)
Sounds like we have something of our Creator in us. And we ignore it. And are in need of saving...
.....good thing He took care of that.
Man is basically good.
vs.
Man is basically evil.
It's so simple. Just watch a toddler. They KNOW what "no" means. Everyone has shown them and told them the proper way to behave. But they still choose to disobey. They still choose to lick the shoe, to knock over the trash can, to hit their little brother.
No one has to teach a toddler how to be bad. We have to teach them how to be good.
Therein lies the rub. We are not basically good. But we KNOW goodness.
I wonder if that provokes in all the image it provokes in me. Somehow, though we are evil, we instinctively know goodness....and choose to disregard it.
(not to blatantly rip off a man named Clive, but...)
Sounds like we have something of our Creator in us. And we ignore it. And are in need of saving...
.....good thing He took care of that.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Self-esteem?
(with slight revisions, originally posted to myspace 1/17/07)
self-esteem.
1.to regard highly or favorably; regard with respect or admiration:
~
So....what's the deal with "self-esteem"? Frankly, I'm getting tired of hearing that phrase. I'm sure, as this is a personal belief, most of you will disagree with this....but I don't esteem myself. I don't admire myself that much, or regard myself very highly. As a human being, (though I usually steer clear of this terminology) I kind of suck.
I think we need to drop the self-esteem and pick up the God-esteem again. You see all the time where people get depressed, or hurt themselves, or their social life goes to the dogs, "because of low self-esteem." I think it's because we don't realize how precious we are. You say, well, that's the same thing!
Not quite. Each and every one of our bodies, minds, and souls was made amazingly by God. We possess them (ourselves, in effect) because he loves us. Why would you disrespect something like that? I don't think we need to be telling our children "You raise that self-esteem. You're beautiful, you're talented, and don't you forget it. you, you, you, you."
Here's my alternative.
"Remember that your body is God's temple. He loves you, and chose you to be His child. Isn't that amazing? God made you a beautiful creation, He gave you unique gifts. He made you special to glorify Him in everything that you do. Remember to respect that- for that's an awesome responsibility."
God-esteem.
self-esteem.
1.to regard highly or favorably; regard with respect or admiration:
~
So....what's the deal with "self-esteem"? Frankly, I'm getting tired of hearing that phrase. I'm sure, as this is a personal belief, most of you will disagree with this....but I don't esteem myself. I don't admire myself that much, or regard myself very highly. As a human being, (though I usually steer clear of this terminology) I kind of suck.
I think we need to drop the self-esteem and pick up the God-esteem again. You see all the time where people get depressed, or hurt themselves, or their social life goes to the dogs, "because of low self-esteem." I think it's because we don't realize how precious we are. You say, well, that's the same thing!
Not quite. Each and every one of our bodies, minds, and souls was made amazingly by God. We possess them (ourselves, in effect) because he loves us. Why would you disrespect something like that? I don't think we need to be telling our children "You raise that self-esteem. You're beautiful, you're talented, and don't you forget it. you, you, you, you."
Here's my alternative.
"Remember that your body is God's temple. He loves you, and chose you to be His child. Isn't that amazing? God made you a beautiful creation, He gave you unique gifts. He made you special to glorify Him in everything that you do. Remember to respect that- for that's an awesome responsibility."
God-esteem.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
when i cried
I have been a part of Reflections for the better part of my seven years living in Richmond, and I have never truly cried in drama. But there have been tears. Once was during “The Secret Garden” term (’04 edition), during one of our all-day workshops which occurred, annually, close to show-time. We, an intimate group of twenty or so, sat in the dark as Aunt Jean had us listen to “You Raise Me Up” - sung by Josh Groban. First she said, “Listen to this as a song you would sing to each other.” Then we listened to it again, prefaced by: “Now, this is us, singing to God.” By the time the lights were back on, I think tears had welled in nearly every eye. It remains one of my favourite drama memories.
Also occurring within “The Secret Garden” bubble of time, I actually became teary-eyed during one or two of the performances, during the finale “You Can Do It.” True, my character would most certainly have been tearing up, but it’s never been easy for me to cry on command unless my heart is in it. And yes, though those songs are, I suppose, corny… and some can get…old…that song is so powerful and emotional in my memory. It is as applicable to students as it is to Colin and Archie.
“Fiddler on the Roof” was an emotionally charged camp in a lot of ways- even besides the heart-wrenching emotion that went into the show itself. The culmination of it for me, as I remember it very precisely, was just before the final curtain call, tearing up slightly and kissing my dear Tzeitel. Some always cry during and right after curtain call- but that’s about as close as I ever got.
Until this year. Until we finally did the story of care-free childhood, with the most grown-up sentiments being homesickness, affection, and loyalty. Ironic, isn’t it?
This camp, though bringing all the pleasures of being involved in my beloved “Peter Pan” was not without its stressful moments. I was suspended between the children and the leaders- more than once asked, “Are you a camper?” In fact, I was the oldest camper. Something I (thankfully) only realized after the production. A first, for me. And though I struggled in balancing Pan with my looming directorial commitment, The Glass Menagerie, it was a marvelous and fun experience.
Unbelievably enough, the cast performed perhaps closest to perfection as we ever have. Nearly all of our glitches during shows came from music cues or lighting which was a bit off. Nobody forgot crucial cues or dances (although Peter never could quite get the “I Gotta Crow” lyrics perfect. *wink*) - even though we all agreed that certain ensemble numbers could have used an extra week of rehearsing! After thirty-six hours of personal distraction and stress (mostly due to then-unresolved situations which affected me, but were out of my hands)… come show-time, I was pretty perfectly at peace.
The shows felt very relaxed, because we had our parts down so well. Just before the last show I must have had a wonderful kick of something- for I was literally bouncing and dancing with my pre-set children just before the musicians started up (Wendy laughed at me). Everyone had marvelous energy during that final performance, and lights and music went oh, so smooth. As we lined up in the green room for bows, I glanced once at my Wendy and tears almost came. I was so proud of her. She had come so naturally into this part, she who had not yet even had a speaking role in previous plays. She simply beamed with joy and post-show excitement; I felt the way she looked. I think instead of crying I ran up, hugged, and kissed her. Then the moment passed. And I thought, there’s my “Peter Pan” emotion, come and gone.
And then the oddest thing happened. I glowed and bounced during curtain call, applause, and post-show hugs. I bear-hugged every cast mate I could get my hands on. Then I was in the back, having had more laid back conversations with a few different audience members, and I saw Rachel. I imprisoned her presently in my hug, and thought (and, I think, told her something of) how I never expected her to meet my Pan standard. And she had met it. And, oh, I’ve watched her grow and mature, and face disappointment after disappointment when it comes to plays- and all in good season. I remember jumping up and down when I read on my email that she had been cast as Anne Shirley. I remembered her captivating Pan audition that totally took me by surprise. I thought of how, by the last show especially, her movements, face and tone were so like a little boy. And I was so relieved we had pulled it off, that I cried. I hugged her, and I laughed, and I inexplicably cried, (all at the same time) burying my face in her shoulder. And I looked up, and she was crying and laughing with me. And we both laughed some more, because we never cry after shows.
I suppose it was fitting, although humorous for me, still, in retrospect. My happiness was overflowing. My heart was as full as it could have been with pleasure and pride in seeing the growth and accomplishments of the people I love most in the world. I suppose that was it. I just didn’t have room for anything else- so I had to let something out.
(Well, the run on the lawn we had afterward helped with that, too.)
Also occurring within “The Secret Garden” bubble of time, I actually became teary-eyed during one or two of the performances, during the finale “You Can Do It.” True, my character would most certainly have been tearing up, but it’s never been easy for me to cry on command unless my heart is in it. And yes, though those songs are, I suppose, corny… and some can get…old…that song is so powerful and emotional in my memory. It is as applicable to students as it is to Colin and Archie.
“Fiddler on the Roof” was an emotionally charged camp in a lot of ways- even besides the heart-wrenching emotion that went into the show itself. The culmination of it for me, as I remember it very precisely, was just before the final curtain call, tearing up slightly and kissing my dear Tzeitel. Some always cry during and right after curtain call- but that’s about as close as I ever got.
Until this year. Until we finally did the story of care-free childhood, with the most grown-up sentiments being homesickness, affection, and loyalty. Ironic, isn’t it?
This camp, though bringing all the pleasures of being involved in my beloved “Peter Pan” was not without its stressful moments. I was suspended between the children and the leaders- more than once asked, “Are you a camper?” In fact, I was the oldest camper. Something I (thankfully) only realized after the production. A first, for me. And though I struggled in balancing Pan with my looming directorial commitment, The Glass Menagerie, it was a marvelous and fun experience.
Unbelievably enough, the cast performed perhaps closest to perfection as we ever have. Nearly all of our glitches during shows came from music cues or lighting which was a bit off. Nobody forgot crucial cues or dances (although Peter never could quite get the “I Gotta Crow” lyrics perfect. *wink*) - even though we all agreed that certain ensemble numbers could have used an extra week of rehearsing! After thirty-six hours of personal distraction and stress (mostly due to then-unresolved situations which affected me, but were out of my hands)… come show-time, I was pretty perfectly at peace.
The shows felt very relaxed, because we had our parts down so well. Just before the last show I must have had a wonderful kick of something- for I was literally bouncing and dancing with my pre-set children just before the musicians started up (Wendy laughed at me). Everyone had marvelous energy during that final performance, and lights and music went oh, so smooth. As we lined up in the green room for bows, I glanced once at my Wendy and tears almost came. I was so proud of her. She had come so naturally into this part, she who had not yet even had a speaking role in previous plays. She simply beamed with joy and post-show excitement; I felt the way she looked. I think instead of crying I ran up, hugged, and kissed her. Then the moment passed. And I thought, there’s my “Peter Pan” emotion, come and gone.
And then the oddest thing happened. I glowed and bounced during curtain call, applause, and post-show hugs. I bear-hugged every cast mate I could get my hands on. Then I was in the back, having had more laid back conversations with a few different audience members, and I saw Rachel. I imprisoned her presently in my hug, and thought (and, I think, told her something of) how I never expected her to meet my Pan standard. And she had met it. And, oh, I’ve watched her grow and mature, and face disappointment after disappointment when it comes to plays- and all in good season. I remember jumping up and down when I read on my email that she had been cast as Anne Shirley. I remembered her captivating Pan audition that totally took me by surprise. I thought of how, by the last show especially, her movements, face and tone were so like a little boy. And I was so relieved we had pulled it off, that I cried. I hugged her, and I laughed, and I inexplicably cried, (all at the same time) burying my face in her shoulder. And I looked up, and she was crying and laughing with me. And we both laughed some more, because we never cry after shows.
I suppose it was fitting, although humorous for me, still, in retrospect. My happiness was overflowing. My heart was as full as it could have been with pleasure and pride in seeing the growth and accomplishments of the people I love most in the world. I suppose that was it. I just didn’t have room for anything else- so I had to let something out.
(Well, the run on the lawn we had afterward helped with that, too.)
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