Summer has launched full-force in the last couple of days, bringing some desperately needed sunshine and warmth to our very rainy area. We are long overdue for this weather — and I hadn’t realized how very much I needed the additional vitamin D until spending some time outside myself.
With the wrap-up of spring came the end of our production season at work. Thus begins our summer breathing time, the closest we get to a company-wide break. It’s a short-lived reprieve; we’re already planning production meetings for the first show of the season, for which I’ve already cursed my production manager. (In truth, thank gods we’re starting early, let’s get ahead and stay ahead while we can! But let me hit the work snooze button for a little bit?) New projects loom large. Every moment outside becomes a cherished memory of peace in the face of another oncoming storm. Luckily, we’ve grown quite used to the stormy season and prepare accordingly.
Truth be told, I’ve been pretty bummed out lately. A lack of theatre projects generally means a surge in other activities for me, but I’m just… burnt. I want to do everything and nothing. Really, I want to do nothing.
No, that’s not right. I want to fix things that are not mine to fix, that cannot be fixed, that I cannot even imagine helping with because there is nothing to be helped. Global problems down to personal issues, there seem to be few in my world who are not suffering in some way. The nation is a wreck. Friends are hit with tragedy, loss, fear. And my own slightly-depressed-and-anxious neuroses are flaring up, which I try not to address with others, especially when they are struggling so much themselves. I am reminded of Melancholy Play: “I would like to die, and be reborn as a mushroom. I would like to stay warm and slightly damp. I will release spores now and again when it suits my mood.”
I don’t want to be a mushroom. Not really. But I would like to revive my sense of greater purpose. In the meantime, I would like to make baked goods, mostly to be given away to make people smile. I’d like to play with my housemate’s kitten until he falls asleep on my shoulder while I work on projects for my own amusement. I would like to curl up in a hammock and disappear for hours into stories much grander than any world I have yet to encounter. I would like to alternate between playing in the waves and delighting in others at play. I would like to turn off for a little while. Just a little while. I would like to breathe fully again.
A lot has happened in the last year, and I think I may only now be truly sorting through some of it.