The Spirit Stirs

We have just crossed into the last day in February. I got back less than an hour ago from a new musical called The Hidden Sky, which of course I found out about because of Colleen. It questions the line between science and religion, the physical and faith. And it seemed to demonize religion in favor of science (or at least math), but at the same time science took on a religious feeling in the power of numbers to explain creation, while in fact numbers and equations are all just made up by people. I thought the whole concept was really interesting; the main character had a need to bridge the gap between the religion of the sun-god and her fascination with math that could answer her questions.

I was thinking about God as the sun, so God is manifested as fire, which happens to be an Islamic belief that we talked about in Re-Inventions of Love on Thursday. But the story goes that God had to first create the sun, to make light and dark. Because without light, there could be no darkness, there was only whatever there was before the sun, the big bang or whatever. So sure, God can be manifested in the sun; God/the Creator or any other name one may give to that force can be and I think is manifested in everything, and I don't just mean the physical, but also in feelings and energies.

Over the past few weeks (or maybe months or years, who can tell) I think I've developed the belief that love is the source of all things, with the exception, perhaps, of apathy. "The opposite of war isn't peace; it's creation," and the opposite of love isn't hate; it's apathy. So that aside, as there is an exception to every rule, I truly believe it's all because of love. Why do we become sad? Because we feel unloved, because we've lost someone we love, because we're fighting with someone we love.

I have found nothing to be more devastating than two people who love each other being unable to love each other.

Love has shaped and continues to shape everything I do. I've come to this city to nourish my love for theatre, for creation. I'm working on the shows that I am because of love for people in my life. When I'm angry at my mother, it's because I love her and feel like she doesn't understand that my love for theatre doesn't cancel out my love for family. When I get depressed, or mistrustful, or anxious about relationships, it's because of my love for Jack that has never ceased.

And here's the thing I've realized about that, which now confuses me to no end. I feel like I may never love anyone as much as I love(d) him. And while that initially started out as physical attraction on my part, it quickly moved beyond that to simply being the deepest, strongest, safest connection I can remember knowing with anyone. Other friends, including boyfriends, have come and gone, but none have left such an impact as he continues to do, without having the slightest inkling. I love everyone in my life; I really do. But will I always have this love that seems doomed to fail lingering over my shoulder? In my life now, I love Colleen more than anyone I know. I trust her completely and would do anything for her, and while the concept of that scares me intellectually a little, in practice I'm not scared about it at all. I will not even think about the possibility of losing her in my life. But with Joel, by the very nature of it being a romantic relationship, and those never seem to last, I wonder what the impact will be if it ends. (Which I do not want. We've been together four and a half months, and I want our relationship to keep moving forward.) And I came to this disgusting realization that I don't think it would hurt as much as losing Jack has, because I think (or perhaps desperately hope) that nothing can be more painful than that.

So what am I doing? How do I function if Jack will never go away nor come back? How do you keep loving if your love has left? Perhaps that's not the question. My love has not left. I am fiercely in love with so many people. But I have to think about Hedwig, who will do absolutely anything to find her other half, and then anything to regain it once lost. And I can't help but wonder if, since he won't leave me, if Jack is my other half, and if that is the case, what I do with information. Hedwig is utterly terrible to anyone who isn't her other half once she begins the journey to regain him. I do not want to be that person. I want to be enveloped in love and be a light that shines love out into the world. I have no interest in retreating back to scared and lonely. So all I can do is love harder than before.

And It's Continuing to Snow

NYU called snow day part II today. When I woke up this morning, it was still snowing as hard as it had been since yesterday morning. I think it's finally stopped now, but it snowed for over 36 hours straight I think. We got over a foot of snow.

Despite intense wind and slush, it's been a rather glorious day. I ended up spending the majority of it by myself, which wasn't what I had wanted at all, but a series of what seemed like unfortunate events turned out pretty well.

I attempted to take something to the bursar today, but of course the office was closed because the entire university was closed. So after that failed, I walked through Washington Square Park for a while and watched people walk dogs and build snowmen and have snowball fights in the fountain.

I walked up Broadway to Union Square Park (more snowmen and snowball fights, though not in a fountain), and finally reached my room after about an hour of walking in the windy snowy city with a heavy backpack. I moped around by myself for a little bit, and then decided since my room was empty that I would indulge in a bath with hot coffee, classical music, a candle, and Chekhov.

After a botched attempt at meeting up with people at Central Park, I figured as long as I was up there, I would walk around. I ended up walking for two hours and over two miles snapping pictures of everything... Snow, ducks, trees, statues.

For a good half an hour I was utterly lost in silence - I saw nor heard any people, I couldn't see buildings or hear cars. I was transported to somewhere in the middle of Manhattan that was not in New York City at all. I walked from the Shakespeare statue up the mall to Bethesda fountain, to Belvedere Castle. Everything was so beautiful. I was grateful by the time by myself, for a quiet, meditative walk, and so thankful for such a creation so close to where I live, in a city I love so much, but not like the city at all.

So I ended up being alone in the best possible way. And when are you ever alone in this city? That just doesn't happen. But it did, and it was beautiful. Thanks for the snow day, God.

Passion

This post will begin with something I started writing during rehearsal tonight as we were talking about love, and then morph into things I've been thinking about love since that conversation as I've been reading Saint Augustine's Confessions.

All we need is love. We need to love and we need to be loved. If we love and are loved, both in reference to people and work, we can create and succeed and do what we love. Love is something deep within us and others. Sometimes our love is closer to someone else's because over the course of time we have gathered the same understandings. Other times we must dig deeper to find that love, within the universe in ourselves. That is why we are all connected. That is why I must love everyone.

What is it to study love? Can studying the history of the understanding of love help us in our need to love now? Should we think about love, or just love?

This is our moment in time. We must love, now. And how we love now is naturally informed by love of the ages. It is inherent in being a person.

In Ruben's class, we were given this quote:

Have you ever wanted something so badly it possessed you through the night and through the day until you finally get it - then you realize it wasn't what you wanted after all. And then those same sickly feelings go and attach themselves to something or somebody new - and the whole thing starts all over again. The only true freedom is freedom from our desires. And the only true happiness this way lies.

I'll put into conversation with that one of my favorite quotes:

One must not lose desires. They are mighty stimulants to creativeness, to love, and to long life.

I was thinking about whether a desire is less valuable once it's fulfilled. For me, there is a desire to maintain whatever desire I fulfilled. I desired for four years to attend NYU. That desire was fulfilled, and I'm still here, and it is what I wanted after all, and it's still an amazing thing. More amazing that I expected.

Is love only a joy if it's requited? Now I am inclined to say no, but I expect my answer would have been different before four months ago. And to be honest, I would say loving Jack has not been a joy for the last nearly-three years now, though I am trying hard to change that.

I worked with a group (including Colleen) on a project inspired by that first quote, and we talked a lot about passion and obsession. I think we agreed that passion can destroy, if it is an obsession that possesses you as the quote says, but I argued that without passion, life is meaningless and pointless. Particularly as an artist, I need to be passionate about whatever I'm doing. I'm constantly told by teachers (or at least one teacher) to find something to obsess over. Find something I care about. And as I've said previously on this blog, I know no way to live other than passionately. Whatever I feel about something, I feel it intensely. I love fiercely and I hurt deeply. The opposite of love isn't hate, it's apathy.

I have been thinking about God's love over the last hour or so, but I think that is a post for another time as I need to either get back to reading or go to bed. May you find love in your dreams, and may you find your dreams in your love.

And It's Beginning to Snow

I posted this on my poetry blog by accident - From 2.10.10:

Today is... one of the only snow days NYU has had in the last 13 years. In fact it's the first time NYU has closed since 9/11. (And today we only actually closed after 12:30.)

Upon the announcement (from our office administrator, Jean) that classes had been cancelled and we should all go home, everyone in my classroom exploded in screams and hugs and jumping up and down like seven-year-olds. I just looked and felt kind of bewildered. The world seemed suddenly unreasonably loud. My fellow classmates were falling on each other in embraces. I happened to be standing at the other end of the room gathering my stuff to move to my next class when the announcement came, and I was soon very glad to not be in the small throng of people congregated around the door. As the day has gone on I've been glad for the extra time to actually get work done, and I'll go to bed at an hour that is considered normal by most people, and I might even watch a live tv show, but I don't like missing out on studio classes.

Dear Colleen,

I read your blog post and we should talk about it.

Colleen talked about liking this weather because we are forced to stop by something we can't control, and that's a reminder of God's presence. I agree with that, but I have always really liked these sorts of situations for the adventure of them. I like being caught in something with a group of people; feeling like we're all a part of the same thing. Everyone I rode the NYU bus with today was trying to get back to their dorm before the storm got worse. We were fleeing a rapidly emptying campus to the safety of our rooms. I've had the same experience when I've been in shows in buildings that have lost power (twice, actually), or when I'm trying to perform with a group of people during an epic rainstorm and the roof doesn't have soundproofing so you pretty much have to scream Annie Get Your Gun to actually be heard. And, not that this was a good thing, but when there was a gun threat at my school my senior year, the adventure of trying to figure out what was going on and if I would actually go to school the next day was exciting. So today, escaping a snowstorm (that wasn't nearly as epic as it was made out to be) was a little adventure.

I used to make up adventures walking home from my junior high. It was a little less than a mile, but in that time I would pretend to be on some epic trek that always ended at my house. This is incredibly dorky, but sometimes I would narrate it out loud, usually in the third person, explaining why I had the things I had in my bag in relation to my expedition. Other times I was a Laura Ingalls Wilder-esque schoolgirl heading home to help with chores after school. I've never wanted to live in a small town or on a farm or a legitimate prairie, but I've always enjoyed pretending I do. Don't ask me why. I'm imaginative.

Soon I have to find a summer job. Oh boy. It'll happen. It will. Somehow. For now I'm going to focus on reading the rest of The History of Sexuality for my Confessional Culture class. Which is awesome, by the way. Religious studies minor? I think so. Seminary? If I can figure out how to afford it... which will start with a job, I guess.

Catching the Big Fish

Contrast:

At 1:30 am, Lindsay is listening to her Chopin pandora station while writing a paper about David Lynch, performance art, and love.

At 1:30 am, Shea is listening to R&B and watching youtube videos in between looking at facebook pictures.

Just a typical night in Gramercy 1509.

I don't think I've actually written on here yet that this is the semester of love and sensuality. That's what everything I'm doing seems to be about. What a good education for life and art and the art life. (See? David Lynch at work.)

La Vie Boheme

I'm feeling euphoric. And nothing incredibly dramatic happened today, but I've been ruminating on the circumstances of my life as they are right now, and it's beautiful because things have simply aligned.

Things get difficult, and then they get better. But they've never, I don't think, gotten this good all at once before. Last semester, as things were shaping up and I found myself in a non-long-distance relationship for pretty much the first time ever, I was happy, but kept thinking about how I wanted to be in a show. I literally thought, multiple times, "If I were just in a show, everything in my life would be going right." Well, yesterday, to my greatest delight, I was cast in Colleen's show, The Maker of Dreams as part of her still-in-the-idea-stages group of people who are going to create a soundscape for the piece. I think of us as the audible set, the air of the space embodied. (Right now Colleen/I is/am referring to us as the vocal ensemble, but that's not really correct.)

So. I'm at NYU. I'm in theatre school. I live in New York. I have an incredible genius artist searcher best friend. I've got a stable, nurturing, fulfilling relationship. I've got a relationship to a church. I'm in classes that are allowing me to explore love and sensuality and faith, and generally my understanding of the universe. I've got art. I've got a show to be in. I've got everything I wanted college to be ever since I entered high school and probably before that. I think I knew, subconsciously, probably by elementary school that college was where I wanted to be. And I was right.

To days of inspiration

Playing hooky

Making something out of nothing

The need to express, to communicate

To going against the grain

Going insane, going mad...

In the best possible way.