There's something very precious in the act of performing for other people.
If done right, your heart will be open, vulnerable, and free to feel deeply. It's like you've entered into a special dimension of reality that hasn't been discovered yet. It's a secret inside you that you are meant to tell when the exact right moment hits.
There's a silence of such loud anticipation from the audience as you stand backstage peeking through the curtains --as all old time professionals do, of course. You quietly speak with your fellow performers but all of you can feel the gentle excitement building in each others' hearts as the time for the start of the show grows closer. You smell hairspray and foundation. And you laugh because the guys, no matter how old, still complain about the make-up.
The director comes in and gives some notes, some kind words, and leaves with a prayer. You stretch. You warm your voice up in ways that would make the rest of the world think you were a dying chicken--not the theater world though.
You prepare yourself for your first scene: spiritually, physically, emotionally. You go over scenes, lines, emotional prep questions in your mind as you take in the crazy people around you in the green room. It's funny---you remember them as their character for a few moments after each show run until life slips back into the regular drudgery and the life as an undercover superhero swiftly comes to a close...It remains only until the resounding last clap has drifted away. But the show run hasn't ended yet. You snap back to the present moment.
You listen for God's...err, the stage manager's cue that the house is open and you prepare your little heart to give itself away.
When you finally step on that stage you are transported to the place where your scene is. You have the precise relationships with the others on stage that make a story worth watching. It's time to stop crafting and molding and you start giving your finished creation (though you don't forget to get those notes if it's not your last show!)
You finish your scenes. You come off stage. Your heartbeat continues faster than usual and it'll stay that way for a while. Your mind and soul and being are lifted high. You see the same reactions in your fellow thespians. You then see your audience...The reason actors come back again and again to the beautiful place called the stage.
The people smile, tackle hug, or express some sort of thanks and their hearts feel light; You can tell from where you're standing. It makes your heart light too.
The crowd starts to trickle away. You remember you're still dressed as your character, not yourself. It must be noted though, that during show week, your costume feels more like you than any regular clothing ever does.
You thank your audience. You change. You say goodnight and good job to those you've worked to share an alternate reality with. And you leave to go sleep and to calm your heart and hopefully to thank the Lord before the cycle starts all over again.
We are the theater people.
We are the crazy people.
We are the deep feelers, and therefore the overthinkers.
We are the creators.
We are the heart lifters.
We are a people that long to give the world the realness and the beauty it has forgotten.
We are the theater people.
Acting is not meant to be a selfish show of one's faked abilities, but instead, it is meant to be a diligently attempted creative process that allows one to fully give himself away to all the audience members desperately in need of all that theater can give: truth, beauty, reality, and love.
We are the theater people, and we. love. you.
Blessings,
Paula
