polishing stars

In the profession I am in, I often get to shine. On stage, in the rehearsal room, in the music studio etc, and often one can forget that just because you are a bright star in the night sky, that you are not the only bright star. And often, in this profession, you find people who love to ramble on about all the things they are so great at, myself included occasionally (although I am trying to work on it). These people make it their mission to polish off their stars in front of the rest of the galaxy, so that it is their SHINE that illuminates the night sky.
There is, a very old myth about one of the biggest stars in the world, the Sun. Legend has it that the Sun was so full of himself and wanted so badly to shine brighter than any of the other stars that he eventually became the hot, molten ball of gas we know today. And even though the Sun has many great advantages to many life-forms, to this day, the Sun is the loneliest star in the whole heavenly realm. It shone so brightly that no other star could come near it ever again.
Now, as cool as it would be to be the Sun, metaphorically speaking, there is one specific star I would never want to have too far away.
It's my great privilege to introduce to you my dearest friend, Chloë Kiley. This girl is honestly one of the most talented people I have ever met and also my best friend in the whole world.
So, if there's one thing I can always say about myself, perhaps one good thing in a sea of flaws, is that when I love, I do love passionately. And when I am loyal, I am fiercely loyal. I once stopped going to lectures, because the lecturer had acted unjustly to a dear friend of mine. So yes, in that aspect, I am not too bad.
I decided to brag a little about my friend tonight, to polish off her star for her a bit, since I'm not sure she does it often enough. So this clip posted here in this blog is of my friend Chloë Kiley singing "The Wizard and I" from the musical 'Wicked'.

Please listen, share, comment and just enjoy.

Chlo, if you ever read this: I love you my "person".

The Wizard and I - Wicked by chloe.mairead

To hear more of Chloë's phenomenal voice, go to http://www.soundcloud.com/chloemairead

<3

the inexpressible

"After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music."
Aldous Huxley

With each new post, this blog is becoming more about sharing and less introspective. I am not quite sure whether I like it. But, I suppose change is as good as a holiday.
Here are links to some songs that are on my playlist right now:

I will always love Ingrid Michaelson. Her music moves me.
This is "Keep Breathing".



And here is another: "Turn to Stone" also by her.



I also love Regina Spektor and this song "Eet" is weird and wonderful.



Lastly, as far as Regina Spektor goes: "Samson" is also beautiful.



Being a huge Grey's Anatomy Fan, I love http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sara_Ram%C3%ADrez and her version of this song, "The Story" is one of my all-time favourites.



Enjoy... <3

"It was my 16th birthday - my mom and dad gave me my Goya classical guitar that day. I sat down, wrote this song, and I just knew that that was the only thing I could ever really do - write songs and sing them to people."
Stevie Nicks

let it be...

One of the most powerful scenes I have seen in a long time.
This remains one of my favourite songs of all time. It has such a transcendent quality that is even more so illuminated in this video with the use of the gospel choir.

I love the words: Let it Be.



It's so important to remember, isn't it ? We can so easily forget that: things go on.

And it's so interesting that in our times of trouble, we are not told to fight it, let it consume us, let ourselves become controlled by it, try to control it ourselves.
We are told to let it be.

I have decided that, if anything, I am going to let God work in and through my life as He sees fit.
And yes, perhaps I have let myself taken control of the steering wheel for a while, and perhaps I have lost sight of where I need to go, and somewhere along the line I have forgotten who is in charge of my life.
Stupidly, I thought it was me.

But, the events of the last couple of days have taught me this: Just let him take over. He's been doing it for thousands of years. He's got a lot more experience than you do.
And no, I still won't call myself religious, I won't even call myself 'spiritual'. I want to go as far as to say: I have such a special relationship with Him that it can't be put into a box. It can't be defined because attempting to define it will diminish it's prominence.

I had a conversation with a dear friend of mine, the other day in which she asked me whether I believe in God. I hesitated to answer, not because I was ashamed of what I believe in, but because so many things were running through my head.
She then said: "Well I don't believe in God. But, if you can prove to me that He exists, I will believe you - I am agnostic."
To which I replied, "I most definitely believe there is a God, but I think everyone on Earth is in for a big surprise one day. Because He is so different from everything you have read, everything you have heard and everything you've seen. I think a lot of people have tried to put God into a box and therefore His magnificence has been diluted and diminished. I don't know about you, but I can't wait to be surprised."

But in the meantime, maybe we should let it be, let it go, let the river run, let the wind blow, let the loose, let it wander.

<3

the shark and the boy

I am tired.
And I know I have said this before, but it applies again, and therefore I am most definitely going to say it again.

These past couple of days have been spent on improving my blog, it's user-friendliness and it's appearance. I have added some functions as some of you will have probably noticed. Not that I am at all convinced that many people read this. But after posting this, I have decided that this is going to be like my private online diary in which I can say absolutely anything. And if anyone should stumble upon it by accident, then that would be a bonus.
But I am going to tirelessly write what I think, what I feel, what I experience and how these experiences have touched me.

As I am typing this I am so very tired that the very action of my writing this blog is mainly to stay awake.
It's so interesting to me sometimes, when I think back on all the times when, as a child, I used to imagine how marvelous it would be to have a fast-paced busy life, chasing dreams, reaching goals, climbing to the top, no matter what. And while I still want these things, and while I still have enough ambition in me to want to climb that ladder, I have now started to realize that, occasionally, it is important to take one step back instead of rushing forward.
Then I read a quote on Pinterest, that basically read: Don't be so busy making a living that you forget to make a life.
That kind of stuck with me. I started thinking exactly how much of my day is 'living' and how much of my day attempts to 'make a living'. The ratios were extremely disproportionate. I got tired just thinking of the amount of time I spend working.
And just when the home stretch seemed too far, just when I thought I couldn't possibly get through another week without collapsing, I did.

André P Brink once wrote in his novel 'A Dry White Season': "We have yet to understand the subtleties of God's infinite grace." After I realized what this week is bringing, I was reminded of this powerful quote. Every time something happens to me that is in no way significant in the grand scheme of my life, I am reminded that it is often in the subtleties that the true grace lies. The phone call from a dear friend after a particularly lonely day, a cup of coffee with someone who doesn't need to ask to know how you are feeling, all-green traffic lights on the way home from work, promotional prices on essentials, especially when you are broke.
These subtleties, these little moments of grace in our day-to-day struggles, are often overlooked, but are important, to keep the pillars of our lives from crashing like the proverbial Samson's temple.
I started thinking after a while, exactly how many of us have a 'step-back' plan, as mentioned two paragraphs up. I compiled a mental list of all the business people I met, all the really successful ones, and I started to imagine what they consider to be their daily dose 'living'. It didn't take me very long to realize that a smart businessman is one who knows when to rest as well. Even God rested after six days of work. I started thinking of all the CEO's I know, the business owners, successful artists, performers and I realized that the most accomplished of these people were those who found time for 'making a life' as well as 'making a living'.

I am too busy making a living.
Merely, because I have neither the means nor the motive to take some time for myself. Always rushing to and fro, always somewhere else to go.
And occasionally, when I am bored, when I have exhausted all opportunities that the television can bring, I will surf the internet and read up on some interesting stories filled with bizarre people doing incredible things. I suppose, in a way, the internet has become the adventure book to my young boy.
That was when I stumbled across this story. Enal, a six-year old Indonesian boy, is swimming with his pet shark, and not because he has to, but because he wants to. I am going to quote from Cracked.com, who also ran a story on this boy:

"This is Enal. He swims with sharks. If you need more information than that, perhaps you should take a step back from the computer and contemplate how spoiled modern-day media has made you - that a boy gleefully riding a shark like a little Thai Aquaman is somehow not "enough" for you. But okay, fine, details: This image was not taken out of context, and it was not a once in a lifetime thing. Enal begins every single day by slapping on a pair of goggles, slipping into the penned area beneath the Indonesian fishing community he's a part of, grabbing the nearest shark by the tail, and then steering it around like a murderous jet-ski. There is no further purpose for this action - it's not training for anything, it's not a show for tourists - the only benefits that daily shark-wrangling provides Enal are a quick and energizing way to wake up, and presumably an unflappable sense of invulnerability that borders on madness."

"No further purpose for this action."
Wow.
How many of us can say that we do things like this all the time? How many of us can say that somewhere at some stage in the day we take 5 minutes to 'swim with sharks'? How many of us can say we take 10 minutes a month, to wake-up and 'swim with sharks', even though it has no purpose?
I know I can't.
Well, I couldn't.
Until this happened:
This week marks the beginning of another exciting journey for me in the form of a drama trip that we will be taking to a little town, named Nieu-Bethesda in the Eastern Cape, South Africa. I had completely forgotten about this trip in between my never-ending lifestyle. And boy, was I relieved when I remembered.
This will be my second visit there and for those who have never experienced the Karoo, Nieu-Bethesda is the place to do it. It's peace and tranquility is really only outweighed by the hospitality of its handful of inhabitants. No ATM's, no cellphone coverage, no credit card machines, very few cars. This is cultural, rural Karoo at its very best. Below are some pictures to generate some curiosity. These are pictures I took last year when we took the same drama trip.

Above: The Ganora Farm we stayed on for the duration of the trip.

Above: One of the many beautiful buildings to see in the picturesque town of Nieu-Bethesda

Above: The majestic rocks that form a part of this natural wonderland
All of the above pictures were taken with my very ordinary FujiFilm camera, so yes, the colours really are that vibrant.

My official 'step-back' is going to be this trip to the Karoo. Every morning I will climb rocks, lie in hammocks, eat too much, drink too much, sleep too much without any 'further purposes for these actions'. Because sometimes taking one step back is more important than rushing 2 steps forward. And yes, financially it is a burden for me since I will need to pay for the trip and miss out on valuable work-time, but you know what? Screw it.
This week I'm swimming with friggin' sharks .
Well, metaphorically, at least.

How do you plan on taking a step back this week ? Start by doing one thing.
And perhaps we can remember how it feels like to be Enal. To feel so much joy and happiness at doing something we love doing, that we can't help but show it on our faces.
Perhaps then, we will discover, not only the youthful exuberance that 'doing nothing' brings, but also the resulting endless energy to 'do something'.

It goes on...

God knows, it's been a strange couple of weeks.

Its been a roller-coaster of emotions, pensive thoughts, fears, loathing, loving, pretending, sincerity, lies and truth.
So basically, just another week in my life. Not much new.

I miss blogging though. But I still have that principle that I will only ever blog/write if I have something to say. This is also partly a reason why I will probably only ever release one poetry collection, since I will never write a poem if I'm not completely feeling it. I did, however, start an Afrikaans poetry website, Gegrif, which will feature some of my stuff. But, if it's not rolling off my tongue and onto the page, it's not being written.
I feel the same way about blogging.
I did get a little sad this week when I logged on after a long hiatus of blogging and realized I still only had 10 followers. It's very demotivating to realize that the thoughts I have, some of which can be very profound (well I think, at least), is only being read by a maximum of 10 people.
But alas, I suppose blogging, like most forms of social media is very much a self-indulgent, personal, therapeutic journey and I shouldn't feel discouraged by my lack of avid readers.

But sometimes, I like to dedicate blogs, as I have done before, and often these for me can be a lot more therapeutic. Perhaps it's the knowledge that at least person will read this and think: 'It's like it was written for me'.

"Acting is probably the greatest therapy in the world. You can get a lot stuff out of you on the set so you don't have to take it home with you at night. It's the stuff between the lines, the empty space between those lines which is interesting."
These are the words of Robert Carlyle, a Scottish film actor, and after reading this I must say that I definitely agree.
Well, for me, at least.
Acting is my therapy. It's the way I have learnt to deal with life and everything it throws at me. Whenever I find myself down in the docks, I read a really dramatic scene, sing a power ballad or I write a piece of poetry.
It's also very interesting to watch how different people allow themselves to be immersed in their pieces. Natasha, whom I have mentioned before, once did a piece from "Mamma Medea" translated by Antjie Krog from the Greek play Medea by Euripides. She asked me to stand opposite her in the one rehearsal as Medea's husband "Justin", who has just told Medea that he is leaving her and her children destitute. The monologue she did drove her to tears, as it did me, and I distinctly remember Natasha coming to me afterwards uttering, rather dramatically: "Die monoloog fok met my kop." (loosely translated as "This monologue is messing with my head"). I have never forgotten it, because this is one of those things that I aspire to one day - to have a piece of text 'mess' with my head.
But as any actor will tell you, the clarity, the euphoria, the triumph of performing a piece like that outweighs any amount of therapy you can buy.
For me, those moments, as Robert Carlyle said, between the lines are the golden ones. These are the moments where your acting becomes so much more than just reciting someone else line's. It's in these silent moments that we often bring our own insecurities, our own vulnerabilities, our own fears, our own personalities into the mix and it's often these moments and how they are 'played' that can define a great actor. Playwright Harold Pinter even had a "dramatic pause" named after his love of dramatic pauses in theatre and acting.

This brings me to the role of theatre and film and storytelling in therapy and in healing and restoration.
It's a well-known fact that millions of people have watched a film or a play and have left the theatre feeling emotionally stirred, touched or moved. This is because in these stories we often, (very often sub-consciously) see aspects of our own broken lives that we can relate to or that we can empathize with.
These are the essential roles of actors in society, to tell the stories. And some actors, will go to extreme lengths to put themselves in the exact position as the character they are playing. This is called method-acting. They believe that this is the only real way they can feel what that character is feeling and thinking. And I suppose that there is some truth in that, but I prefer the Stanislavski method. This is a method where an actor draws on the text to see what the story is saying and they use personal experiences from their own lives to re-tell the story.

What I am trying to get at, in this long-winded dialogue about the founding of 20th century drama, is that we often forget how powerful our story can be to someone else. Today, after a long interval, I started chatting to a dear friend of mine who has been through hell and back these past couple of months.
It was so great to hear from her again and she told me about her thoughts, her feelings and her situation. Although I couldn't relate to the situation she had found herself in, there was so much of what I read in her texts that made me want to burst out in tears. Because, I suddenly realized that so much of what she was experiencing, I had been through. In fact, I had even blogged about it. I immediately sent her the link to the blog post and after reading it for a second time (the first time she read it was when it was first published), she said she saw it in a completely different light. And I felt such a sense of fulfillment in knowing that my 'self-indulgent, personal, therapeutic journey' had meant something to someone.

To my dear friend, whom I am dedicating this blog to, I cannot fathom what it is that you must be going through, but I do know what it feels like to go through it.
Remember the best thing about 'going through the valley of the shadow of death' is that it contains the word 'through'. Eventually we have to go through it, we can't stay there. Robert Frost once said: "If I had to sum up everything I have learnt about life in 3 words it would be: it goes on."
But I know that you don't want to hear this now, so here are some helpers of mine that got me through that stage in my life.

1. Read this (again)
2. Listen to this
3. Listen to this
4. Watch a lot of this
5. Cry it all out.

In 1990, Oprah Winfrey interviewed Truddi Chase, a woman with 92 personalities due to a disorder known as dissociative identity disorder. This was obviously a very hard interview for this woman, with 92 distinctive personalities, to sit through, but years later her story about sexual abuse by her stepfather has sparked hundreds of people to step forward and tell their story. And in doing so, continue the healing.
You know that saying: "To the world, you are just one person, but to one person you can mean the world." ?
It might be a cliche, I know, one of those typical soppy Facebook status updates that love-struck teenagers use because they read it on the back of a cereal box or the bumper sticker of a car.
But sometimes, this is true. Sometimes, our own life experiences can mean so much to someone in their time of need, we don't need to know what they are feeling, we just need to know what we did when we felt like that to make ourselves feel better.

As a closing note, I would like to share with you all her exact words to me on a message she sent me:
"I think after being to so many psychologists and councillors, I have come to the conclusion that the world isn't lacking people who have the right qualifications to help others, but it is lacking people who are willing to live and help others with that experience. The tangible human, tough shit, get down and dirty life experience. You help me like that."

So next time, I am complaining about my measly 10 followers, please will the person closest to me give me a slap in the face? Because I might not mean something to billions of others, but in that one moment, I meant something to one person.

And that is enough.

'It goes on.' - remember that.

<3

Safe. Not Saved.

It has been too long. But, today, as I logged into my blog account, I had one of those sentimental sensations. You know, in the movies, when two people haven’t seen each other in a very long time. The long hug, the longing look. The works.

This reunion was not one of those that I had planned for weeks to come. It was more like a spur of the moment, irrationally impulsive decision. And, as I have always said: I will only write when I have something to say.

I recently read a quote by Bob Dylan that really fascinated me. No doubt the man was a genius. He certainly was a poet and he obviously had some profound knowledge of the world around him.
The quote read:
“Don't matter how much money you got, there's only two kinds of people: there's saved people and there's lost people.”


And at first, I didn’t think about the quote, then later as it started to mill around in my head, and as I was contemplating the depth and the complexity of that particular statement, as I riding around Cape Town on my trusty scooter, as one does, I started to really understand it. And, perhaps quite inevitably, I started to ask myself which category I fit into. And it started to become very apparent to me that I don’t fit either category. I’m not lost, well, not that lost, but at the same time, I am nowhere near ‘saved’.
(I don’t mean this in a religious manner at all, so those of you starting to worry about my soul: stop)
The idea of being ‘lost’ to me, always has a strong connection with being lost at sea.
For some reason when I find myself metaphysically ‘lost’, I garner up strong images of a floating raft somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic.

But first, perhaps it's important to talk about being 'lost' first.
At the moment I am participating in the Waterfront Theatre School’s version of ‘Hairspray’ the musical, where I am playing the role of Edna Turnblad. Playing this role has, for me, opened up a lot of fears about myself that I didn’t really know previously existed. Or maybe, I was just hiding them that well. But regardless, I found such a resonance with the character that I am now facing every method-actor’s predicament: that thin line between illusion and reality has become a lot thinner. And I find myself repeating this one line that she says in the musical over and over.
“I am like a half-filled book of green stamps, beyond redemption.”
And so I decided to look at the meaning of “beyond redemption”, because it is quite a profound thing to say.

Essentially, it boils down to: I cannot be saved or redeemed anymore.

I thought, wow, how far must one go into the abyss to get to a point where salvation has become a fairytale?

And it’s exactly this that brought me to my next argument, which, in a sense, if I understand Bob Dylan correctly, will contradict him ever so slightly.

I am neither lost nor saved.

I am neither on board the Titanic, hearing the soft humming of “Nearer my God to Thee”, and I am not drifting at the bottom of the ocean, yet. nor am I home, tucked into my warm soft bed.
So where do I fit in? As usual, with me, this question will have a very complex answer.
(Another Bob Dylan quote: All I can do is be me, whoever that is.)
But, I suspect I might not be the only one whose answer might be a little more complex than the usual

So I thought about the movie “Titanic” and I remember the scene where Jack and Rose are floating on a door in the middle of the ocean. And then I remembered the scene in 'Poseidon' where the entire group was sitting in the red life raft.
And I realized: that is where I am now.
I am in the life raft of my life. I am not lost at all, I am nowhere near the darkness, but I certainly have not been rescued.
I am safe, but I am not saved.

And I am not too sure how I feel about that. Is it nice to know that you are far from danger, but at the same time, still not that far from it?
If you find yourself in the same boat as I do (sic), the only advice I can give is to clutch onto hope. To live in the moment and to, I don’t know, enjoy the scenery.

And that sucks.
But, as always, there are worse things.
I would rather be safe.
Because as much as being ‘safe’ sucks because you have been rescued, being lost sucks infinitely more.
(The most times I have used the word ‘sucks’ in any piece of writing.)
I shall now hop onto my scooter and continue to contemplate the meaning of life.
How bohemian is that? Ha!

Till then.
P.S Be sure to check out my new blog: filled with my favourites in Afrikaans poetry. It's named "Gegrif" as in the Afrikaans word for 'engraved'. (loosely translated)

Would you have walked?

Sometimes the most mundane things can fascinate me.
I find often beauty in tiny details.
Examples of these are: the way a soft fabric, like silk, moves in the wind; the way a flame consumes a match stick; a bird floating effortlessly in mid-air; the ambience of a single candle in a dark room; lanterns on a veranda or walkway.

When I look at these now, it is evident that I have two common denominators within these examples: light and air.
It’s true.
I’ve always been fascinated by light and its rare capabilities. The amount of light that’s essential in creating atmosphere, the direction of light that’s important for creating visual images or effects, the quality of light that creates or removes ambience.
How often do we see the phrases: just follow the light; the light at the end of the tunnel; look into the light? Is it because, as opposed to darkness, light brings warmth and gives guidance? In daylight, we can see and know everything, but in the absence of light, we are vulnerable, alone and uncertain. There is no road ahead and the path you take will only be revealed to you when the morning comes.
Light also saves lives.
Lighthouses around the world have rescued many a wayward ship.
Also, in the middle of the night, when life is uncertain, light is a guiding star or a lit candle far away in the distance.
Light is hope, light is comfort and light brings clarity.

I need some light.

In a recent devised project that we performed at college, ‘The My(d)us Touch’, we experimented a lot with the notion of light being a beacon of hope for the future, a sense of security, a lasting legacy, an adornment to what seems almost ruined to begin with. We played around with the contrast of light in darkness; the ambient feeling of lanterns in a soft glow. Stark, bright lighting that reveals all details and even all flaws.
The lyrics to the song ‘Light’ have become a sort of anthem for what I am experiencing right now, in this space, in this time.

And slowly, I am realizing that I am drawn to light because I feel like I am lost.
I am without.
Light.
The cave of my mind has become an endless plethora of darkness and confusion, uncertainty and fear.
Without wanting to sound self-indulgent: I am lost in the caves of my mind and I’m afraid that if I continue walking in these circles, I may become too fatigued to want to find the answer.
And here is where I need the light.
I need something to guide the way.
Sure, I often light a lantern that helps me to see two feet ahead, but that is never enough.
Here is where I find that I need that all-encompassing light that reveals all, that answers all questions about the dark. This is where I need to see the light at the end of the tunnel. This is where I cannot walk around in darkness, possibly in circles, anymore.
Here is where I need direction and focus. To see the road that I need to walk, the route I need to take.
How have I come to find myself in this darkness you ask?
This is what happens when the little lights and lanterns that you used to have to guide you along the way, fade away or come to the end of the wick.
There is something worse than finding yourself in complete darkness.
Being surrounded by pure light and THEN complete darkness.
At the moment, sinking into darkness seems easy, manageable almost. Letting darkness absorb and consume me seems to be so much less trouble than trying to walk on.
I then started thinking of ways to ‘see’ the light.
A new career choice, perhaps? A new hobby? New friends?
What will enlighten me and make this journey easier?
And nothing is coming to mind. Nothing is offering any solutions.

So, I keep treading through swampy caves, step by step, with one or two lanterns to help me out, lighting two or three feet in front of me.
And as I’m walking, I’m suddenly reminded of the song ‘Light’ that has become my anthem.

“We need some light.
First of all, we need some light.
You can’t sit here in the dark, and all alone,
It’s a sorry sight.”

And I started thinking about the actual meaning of the lyrics, especially the opening line: “We need some light…”.
She never asks for all the light she needs. She asks for some.
Because, some light is all we need, isn’t it?
Maybe we are only supposed to be seeing two feet ahead of us?
Maybe it’s better for us not to know where the road may lead us ~ truth be told, if many of us had known the road we’d be walking, would we have continued walking?
I would argue, no.

I am going to continue walking.
My lantern in one hand, my faith in the other.
Yes, I won’t know the whole journey beforehand, but what’s the fun in that? Isn’t that part of life, finding your own path, step by step?
I will only be able to see two feet ahead of myself, but that’s okay.
Being lost is okay. Being uncertain is okay. Being worried is okay.
Sitting all alone in the dark is not okay.
So, my dear reader, I am walking, now until the day I die, as should you.
And I pray that one day, when we do find the light, it will be worth struggling through darkness to get there.

“People don’t drown because they fall into water, they drown because they stay there…”