spillings, babbles & tales on the fly

Day one has come and gone, and what a difference five days make. We’re still stumbling through, things are still unclear, but we’ve got a beginning and ending — that’s clear. What’s also clear is that I’m tired — between trying make time for family/friends time and easing my way back into theatre mode — it’s a different muscle. Not to mention the muscles that are standing up and being accounted for after our first dance rehearsal. I said I wanted to dance, and my wish came true quickly and intensely.

When it comes to doing theatre, I love the work. I love the challenge. And in that same breath, it scares the shit out of me. My mind comes barreling in and I start to question my ability — but that’s the beauty of being directed or being choreographed on, those folks outside of you challenge you not only to reach their vision, they also force you to step outside of your bullying mind, welcoming you to step into your body. To feel. To become. To trust instincts. To use those other muscles that have been there all along just waiting to be accounted for — you know, like those ones that are paining me with each step I take.

A butterfly doesn’t become without breaking the cocoon. Spring doesn’t become without buds breaking ground.

So I’ll breath this breaking knowing full well that there’s something on the other side.