luck, the Scottish play and destiny

It is over. It went really well.

And I am still wondering what I am supposed to be doing with my life.

I was going crazy in the last two weeks. Would I have a set? Would it rain (in the outdoor venue)? Would I have anything resembling costumes? Would I have enough weapons for an "army"? Would the youngsters playing children and apparitions burst into tears? Would we cover costs? Would the sound ever work? Would the youth who routinely dropped character in EVERY rehearsal stay in character?

And my dear husband says that I go through some similar period of angst with each play, so much so that he takes it as a sign that the play is almost ready.

And that is true: I do.

BUT...

It seems to be worse each play (see "Poisonous Comedy" below).

(He says that I say that too... and he's right... BUT)

This is THE SCOTTISH PLAY. It is notorious for being unlucky.

And yet, and yet...

The set rose almost by magic on our tech Saturday. Teens and moms and dads pounded and painted and toted and transported and we were transformed.

The only rain was a torrential down pour during our final dress rehearsal-- and we managed to finish the rehearsal huddling under the pavilion, which would be our rain-back-up-plan.

And since we HAD a back up plan, we didn't end up needing it!

Moms showed up with sewing machines and created the needed costumes on the spot.

While the ordered costume swords NEVER ARRIVED, the loaner weapons, our shields and pikes armed the troops adequately.

Some of the young ones (and the not so young ones-- hormonal drama) DID burst into tears, but not onstage, and they carried on with their parts.

We covered costs and even made some money.

Sound gurus appeared from almost nowhere and we heard the play.

And wonder of theater magic wonders, my "problem child" got "into it" and made me and his mom proud.

So it worked. It went beyond just working, the play was marvelously well received by the audience.

And yet, and yet--

Is this what I am supposed to be doing with my life? None of my own children are a part of our troupe anymore-- they have all aged out. Even more odd is that very few of the current troupe know ANY of my children; if a current member has awareness of one of my kids, it is as someone of legend.

Also, I am tired of struggling at the last minute to pull it all together. I am tired of having no home, of having my car packed with props and costumes, of getting NEW people to help produce and promote each show.

"All I really want to do is direct"

On some days, I know that I have a tremendous and profound impact on the lives of the young people I work with-- some more, some less. Some much, much more.

Yet what about my growth and development as an artist? When I am re-inventing the production team wheel with each show, it robs me of the time for research, for intense rehearsals.

And not to be too crass about it, when do I get paid? Part of what validates a person as a professional is to get paid. With our operating budget, there is no way I can be compensated for my time in anything near a professional way.

Heck, we can't even pay me mileage. (Mileage for this play process, at the federal rate, would have amounted to over $900)

I struggle sometimes with the idea that perhaps I have already fulfilled my destiny. Maybe it is accomplished in the four wonderful young people I have brought into and brought up in the world. Maybe I have already touched that one special child that needed me.

Maybe I'm done.

Or maybe I'm supposed to write.

Or maybe I'm supposed to act. Or direct adults. Or teach.

Or retire.

Oh, wait, can't retire. Haven't really worked yet.