Like a Tree in the Wake of a Lightning Strike

 

“When a show ends, for a few days, my body sizzles with leftover energy, like a tree in the wake of a lightning strike.”

― S.M. Stevens

 

 

Last week I wrote about how much working on Community Theatre productions affected me in my Teens and early 20s.

 

If walking onto the stage after month of preparation can be compared "Standing Inside Lightning" it is reasonable to explore the aftermath. What is it like when a show ends? Stevens states it well as he describes the end of a run as being "Like a Tree in the Wake of a Lightning Strike". He says in his quote above that his "body sizzles with leftover energy". I have to say he is not wrong.

 

When the curtain has fallen and the sets have been struck, the buzz and hum of the performance are gone. I am left feeling charred and cold. My body -flushed with the warmth of the stage lights- quickly chills; drained by the cold harsh reality of the outside world. If I am quite honest, it can be a little depressing.

 

I said in my last post that Theatre was a form of therapy for me. Preparing for and performing a show were a way to cope with my own insecurities by working with a group of accepting, affirming people. I was self-medicating my anxieties. I dosed myself for months with an ever increasing level of adrenaline as we rehearsed. This stepping up of the dose finally culminated with a massive injection of eshillerating adrenaline as we stepped onto stage. What a rush! But as with any drug, the rush didn't last long.

 

If there is a downside to self-medicating anxiety in this way, it has to be the end of a production. The crash back to "normal" after months of adrenaline left me down. I generally found myself looking forward to the next show. If there was not a show on the immediate horizon I don't believe I was ever completely content.

More traumatic perhaps, than adrenaline withdrawal is the sudden loneliness that comes with the end of a run. When rehearsing for a play you easily spend 25 or more hours a week, for a couple months, in intimate proximity with people you enjoy. The sudden end of that contact can lead to loneliness. I have a mind that runs at a million miles-an-hour and I am a highly social being. I often talk to focus my thoughts. Being alone is not a good thing. I tend to get lost in my own mind and it becomes more difficult to focus. That can lead me worry a lot as my mind runs.

 

 

I can hear your questions...

 

 

"If it was so beneficial to you David, why are you not still actively involved in your local community theatre(s)? Surely in Atlanta there are enough playhouses for you to remain busy."

 

 

I generally write in stream of conscience. Until I started this writing project last week I hadn't asked those questions of myself. I am working through them. I guess you will have to read my next entry in this series. That way we can both find out together.

How About You???

 

• Do you have something in your life that you self-medicate with?


• Do you have a community you are plugged into that accepts you and can act as your counsel?


• Was there something in your youth into which you poured every possible waking moment but you now simply look back on fondly wondering, "What Happened?"

 

Share below your experiences in the comments.

 

 

Like Being Inside Lightning

“When you step from the wings onto the stage you go from total blackness to a blinding hot glare. After a moment you adjust, but there is that moment. like being inside lightning.”

― Meg Howrey, The Cranes Dance

After some conversations with a friend about Community Theatre I have been feeling nostalgic.  I got to thinking about my experience with working and performing.

In the winter spanning 1984 to '85 I joined the cast of a local Community College production of "Fiddler on the Roof".  It was a "small role" as Yankel. One of the young boys that the old matchmaker, Yente tries to marry off to Golde and Tevye's young daughters at the end of the play. My best friend and I were brought into the production because they needed younger kids (We were 12 ) and our brothers were in the cast. I had three words. "But I'm Yankel" ... Yes, I remember it over 30 years later.

I had been on stage before. I sang in children's choir. I performed in grade-school plays and church shows. This was deferent. Perhaps it is because my previouse experience was less "professional" or were rehearsed with less rigor but I had never before had so much fun working so hard. For the next 11 years, I worked on at least one production a year.

This production was ,for me, a life-changing experience. I know that may sound like hyperbole but I assure you it is a sincere statement. Working on that show opened my eyes to a new world. I was in a diverse group working voluntarily toward a common goal; a group that accepted one another in spite age, handicap, or personal character flaw. I have rarely experienced such community. I made friends there that I still have today.

Theatre for me became therapy. I entered into a world where I could step out of my own self-imposed, self-conscious, anxiety and, for a few hours a day, live in the shoes of another. I admit readily that I used it as a way to escape my own life. For a few hours at a time I was in a group who embraced my quirks. We all had quirks and we embraced them in each other. Sadly, even when doing church productions I never felt quite as accepted as I did when working in community theatre. I loved my church; and I still do. I have some very close relationships which developed there. I met even my own wonderful wife at church. So I am not sure why there was such a diference for me.

I believe it has more to do with me than anything else... Perhaps I will explore this further at some other time... Perhaps

When rehearsing for a show we worked very hard for months to produce a handful of performances. At times we would only deliver two or three performances after rehearsing for upwards of 4000 (THOUSAND) person-hours. If you have never done this, it may seem like a lot of work for only a short run. For most of us though, it is worth it. 

The quote I used to open this post beautifully expresses one reason why we believe it to be worth it.

“When you step from the wings onto the stage you go from total blackness to a blinding hot glare. After a moment you adjust, but there is that moment. like being inside lightning.”

― Meg Howrey, The Cranes Dance

Stepping from the darkness of the wings into the blinding heat of the stage is powerful.  The energy of a lively, expectant audience coupled with nervous anticipation is electric. All those weeks of preparation were just the set up for this adrenaline injection. That adrenaline is addictive.

I have heard of studies where recovered addicts are brought into a room and asked to assemble the paraphernalia related to their addiction. They are asked to use the assembled items and mimic the preparation of their drugs. While performing these preparatory tasks their brains are monitored. To the amazement of the researchers, the brain releases chemicals associated with being high without the drug being administered. The preparation builds an anticipation of receiving the drug that actually prepares the brain to become high. I think rehearsing for a production may have similar effects.

Rehearsing for a play begins a cascading anticipation within us that builds and builds until we finally feel that rush of adrenaline. That fight-or-flight rush that comes from "being inside lightning".