AN EPIPHANY: JAMES ALEXANDER RANKIN

On Wednesday night, we had our first runthrough. 

During that runthrough, we all felt a lot of different things; it's a definite turning point in the rehearsal process. It was our designer run, and - of course - as a result, a lot of our feeling of ease melted away as we suddenly had people in the room and were focusing on a million things.

But the next day we started our rehearsal with a vocal warm up and we had a little powwow, talking things out.

Activating our bodies, activating our breath. Grounding, stretching vocally, and then moving right into staccato legato, an exercise that embodies every aspect of the Chekhov technique.

During that process, during that exercise, something happened for me.

All the fear, all the anxiety, became muted. It was alarming. I didn’t understand much aside from the fire that lit up in my solar plexus, the light that I felt radiating from me and the warmth that I was receiving from the group.

Something shifted in us during the exercise from staccato to legato, a slower movement pattern, when we reached upward and then sent our energy out and up. That’s when it happened. My body registered that it was very close to forming “open”, a Psychological Gesture, which I was trained to avoid a little within this exercise.

But yet it lit up and immediately tears of joy welled and bubbled out my eyes. 

I couldn't stop it, but I didn't want to; it was good. 

It was comfort, it was acceptance, it was joy.

I don’t think that would happen just anywhere.

It was a reminder.

Trust in the ensemble will carry us through on the frustrating days - and what an ensemble I have to put my trust in!

Even if we’re trash, even if things are wrong, even if things don't feel right, that feeling of the whole alone is a reminder that I can't wait to share with anyone who comes to see our work. This group will be fine even if we’re not at our best; we’re sharing us and the time and beauty of this play.

I cannot wait.
I wish I had more to say. 
There's a lot of work ahead, and I've got a lot of things I need to learn, cues, maps to make in my head. 
Where to go and what to do and who I am and how much time has past. 
All these things of course will happen, in time, with progress, like everything else. 

Sometimes though you’re reminded to just be grateful for who you're in the room with, and that those other things will happen. Gratitude.