Yesterday in class I was Beautiful

by childofwine

Yesterday in class I was beautiful. Just for a moment. Cue the roaring adoring crowds!

The exercise was: Melodrama. Sitting in a cafe you sing a melodramatic song. I sang and it felt good. I was put in a costume and I sang the song again and I could feel them all watching me and thinking I was beautiful. I felt pleasure. I played sadness and melancholy and had to fight to keep the grin from ruining everything as I left them sitting there staring at me. After I caught myself in the mirror, all in loose black with black lips and black and silver eyes and my braided hair let down all wavy. Melodrama indeed! Nice.

Nice to have that moment because not two hours later I was back up on stage and I was awful.

Later I talked with a friend. I don’t know what to do when I get up there. In the morning I have so much fun. In the afternoon when I watch I understand exactly the game but then I go up there and I come out on stage and SMASH I walk right into this massive solid medieval stone wall that I just can’t seem to get around. Oh yes, it’s clear, this is very clear, says my friend. Others have corroborated and I see it in others and I want to scream at them GO GO GO DO SOMETHING ANYTHING.

I think maybe when we go on stage we forget that it is not personal that is has nothing to do with me but rather with what is the game today. I wonder if we get stuck pushing that effing rock up the hill and we cannot see how ridiculous the task is. If, just for one moment, we could have a flash of clarity – this situation is completely absurd, here I am dressed all in pink wearing a horrible blond braided wig standing next to a giant dressed up as Louis XIV which actually makes him look like a child – if we could have this flash then perhaps we could breathe again subdue the panic and have some fun!

Today there were more of the same exercises, the kind that are designed to force us out of ourselves and into the space. It’s very difficult to do and it’s very difficult to watch. Painful, frightening, infuriating. Then again, so was quitting smoking and I cannot say that that was not one of the best decisions of my life. People warned me about how hard this course was, about how mean our maître could be. Yes and absolutely no. If it weren’t difficult we would have the discoveries that happen daily. If it was easy it would be boring. As for our maître, he can be a total tyrant yes but I watch him carefully. He knows each and every one of us and nothing he does is not a result of what we put forward. A man who insults like him cannot but be pleasure filled and a man like that is going to be a good person to learn from.

We are transparent. Every single one of us. The more we try to hide behind busy physical nonsense and rambling text the clearer it becomes to those of us watching. Every now and then we see a real person emerge from behind all the posturing and fear driven panic and they, every one, are beautiful.

Everyone can be beautiful but apparently this just might be one of the hardest thing in the world to learn.