Grateful for My Tears

I'm struggling tonight.  Writing and deleting.  This is never a good sign:  second-guessing myself.  It means I am not trusting myself and I am not trusting you.  Let's see if I can make it through and write this entry and post it.

Today I found myself fighting the urge to cry throughout the day.  I vacillated between wondering what was wrong with me (pms, fatigue, etc) and accepting and noticing that something deep and powerful in me was being touched.

As an artist I've always felt like "I am going to do this, by hook or by crook, I will not stop.  With or without your support or approval, I will not stop."  This is primarily because my artistic expression is essential for my survival.  I cannot deal with life without it.  Therefore, it'd be nice to have support and recognition, but I need to do this regardless.... and I need to do it freely.  I have been lucky in finding situations to create and teach and share which let me do my thing, my way.  Sometimes it involved sacrificing financial support, etc, but it was always worth it.

There have been some golden situations in which I had both freedom, space, and financial support without having to jump through hoops to get it.  I've appreciated these times, but have not lost my spirit to do my thing even when I am unsupported.

There have been times when I have spent a lot of time and effort contorting myself into something in attempt to win support.... and ended up with nothing except the knowledge that I should not do that again.

Over the last few years, I have gone through some challenging times in my personal life which required me to conserve energy and lay low, if you will.  I stopped getting involved in artistic situations that took too much energy or were likely to end in low returns in terms of artistic satisfaction.  I stopped applying for projects, etc.  I took what came to me.  This is not a bad thing and was necessary during this period.  But I was at the most ambivalent, drained to the point of only being able to care so much (ie. very little).

In the last 6 months or so, I've started engaging a bit more with the local scene: applying for residencies, agreeing to be in group shows, following up on possible opportunities within larger organizations.  Thus far it has been a mixed bag and honestly somewhat disappointing.  I've felt my spirit being dampened by my engagement with these "larger" structures and their constraints.  This concerns me.  I need my spirit much more than I need anyone's money or slot in a performance.

My passion for teaching has been growing and growing over the last few years.  In fact, the more I teach, the more I want to teach.  I still enjoy performing a great deal, but teaching has possibly become equally important to me.  It deepens my connection to the work and it is energizing to spread the practice of improvisation to others.  It energizes me and it energizes them.  Quite frankly, I feel the whole world needs a lot more of what we practice when we practice improvisation.

Over the last few years, I have had the good fortune to teach in a university setting.  My favorite aspect of this is that I get to work with the same group of people twice a week for 3 consecutive months.  This means we really get to know each other and we can dig into the practice of improvisation.  I love this.

Unfortunately, almost every semester there is a struggle to register enough students for the class to run.  Each semester my director and I work hard to meet the required number of students.  Somehow, we always succeed.  My class is exceptional in that it is open to both the community and the university students.  There is usually an age range from 19 years old to 80 years old.  This is magnificent.  To top it off, this semester, we have a wonderful musician playing music for us.  We've only had the first week of class, but there is very good energy and I sense a lot of potential for learning and development.

As usual, we are still struggling with numbers.  Today I found myself literally crying because I sensed this great energy and knew that it was indeed at risk.  I could not contain my disappointment. Granted, nothing has been cancelled, but the reality that it was a possibility was deeply upsetting to me.

One could interpret this situation in many ways.  One could interpret it as meaning that the class is not thriving in this setting and that I need to find a different place to teach.  One could suggest that I am too attached to the existence of this class.  After a long nap, I woke up feeling grateful for my tears.  They are a sign that my passion to teach and passion for improvisation is alive and well.  There is nothing wrong.  In fact, this is very right.