FAFSA: Done!

T-minus two days to the submission of the FAFSA* deadline, and I used this afternoon to complete it. The show I'm running lights for (more on that another time) was sadly called after only two people showed for it. There's another this evening, and we'll probably fair better. But it worked out for me, since I could use the time to do this.

All that's left is the visa, but that can't actually get done till I know where I'm living. So send vibes out for me there.

"Baby steps to the door, baby steps to the door..."

*Incidentally, I've been referring to the FAFSA as FASA, as no one ever seems to pronounce that final "F" in the acronym, and I ran with it. My apologies. Funnily enough, FASA can stand for Freedonian Aeronautics and Space Administration, an RPG company that references Duck Soup in their titleage.<--I didn't know that off hand, I swear! (I'm such a closet geek.)

Hilarity in the visa process.

Filling out the visa application on-line, I came to a page with these questions, which struck me as pretty amusing. I hope you agree. Ask yourself the following:

1. In times of either peace or war have you‚ ever been involved in‚ or suspected of involvement in‚ war crimes‚ crimes against humanity or genocide?

2. Have you ever been involved in‚ supported‚ or encouraged terrorist activities in any country? Have you‚ ever been a member of‚ or given support to an organisation [sic] that has been concerned in terrorism?

3. Have you ever‚ by any means or medium‚ expressed views that justify or glorify terrorist violence or that may encourage others to terrorist acts or other serious criminal acts?

4. Have you engaged in any other activities that might indicate that you may not be considered a person of good character?
   
   

When in doubt, go back to Odets.

Flipping through a journal I kept last summer, I found this copied out of Clifford Odet's Rocket to the Moon. It's from Cleo's dialogue in Act three:

"Yes, if there's roads, I'll take them. I'll go up all those roads till I find what I want. I want a love that uses me, that needs me. Don't you think there's a world of joyful men and women? Must all men live afraid to laugh and sing? Can't we sing at work and love our work? It's getting late to play at life; I want to live it. Something has to feel real for me, more than both of you. You see? I don't ask for much...I'm a girl, and I want to be a woman, and the man I love must help me be a woman!...None of you can give me what I'm looking for: a whole full world, with all the trimmings!...Experience gives more confidence, you know. I have more confidence than when I came here."

Pinter.........................................................(pause)

Reading some Pinter lately, I was reminded of the letter that a woman wrote to him through a newspaper after seeing The Birthday Party for the first time during its 8 performance run when it first opened.

"I would be obliged if you would kindly explain to me the meaning of your play. These are the points which I do not understand:

1. Who are the two men?
2. Where did Stanley come from?
3. Were they all supposed to be normal?

You will appreciate that without the answers to my questions, I cannot fully understand your play."

Pinter's response was printed in the same paper:

"Dear Madam:

I would be obliged if you would kindly explain to me the meaning of your letter. These are the points which I do not understand:

1. Who are you?
   
2. Where do you come from?
3. Are you supposed to be normal?

You will understand that without the answers to my questions, I cannot fully understand your letter."

I love Pinter for so many reasons, but chief amongst them is this sense of complete lack of apology when it comes to his art. He made this great speech in 1962 about playwriting called "Writing for the Theatre," where he calls into question that need for a past to be shown in order to justify the actions or words that occur on stage.

He also makes a pretty interesting comment about communication later on:

"We have heard many times that tired, grimy phrase: 'Failure of communication'...and this phrase has been fixed to my work quite consistently. I believe the contrary. I think that we communicate only too well, in our silence, in what is unsaid, and that what takes place is a continual evasion, desperate rear-gaurd attempts to keep ourselves to ourselves. Communication is too alarming. To enter into someone else's life is too frightening. To disclose to others the poverty within us is too fearsome a possibility."

I think that idea of communication being alarming, the kind of responsibility that comes with attempting to reach some one while having to expose part of yourself to do it is something that handicaps a lot of actors, including myself. (I'll fess up further: life imitates art more and more these days, if you get my meaning.) In an art form where honesty is prized above everything, and often when artifice is required to tell a story that honesty is meant to illuminate, communication can get muddy. And particularly so when involving the past of a character.

Now, we can't discount the past totally--sometimes it does inform actions of the present. People are habitual, and don't really change. But if we've learned anything from Sarah Kane it's that sometimes events or actions (with her specifically: violence) don't have any reason behind them. They just occur. And then that's it.

So I guess the question now is: how much of my past will inform my life in England? Or how much of it will I let inform me? I'm trying to release my baggage, my demons--all of that--as much as possible before I go, but are there some things you just can't shake?

Surely geography plays a part. Sometimes I feel like being in this city I walk around in my past--associations with places remind me of so many people, many I don't know anymore. Lots of ghosts. And from whatever is attached to them, there comes a hesitation in my own communication-->not only in my art, which has suffered from my cowardice to be sure, but also in my day to day life. And I don't like it. So hopefully a new sense of space will cease some of this. I'll have to be closer to my true self just to understand my surroundings. But then, what's that supposed to be anyway? (My "true self," not my "surroundings," which are still a mystery as I don't know where I'll be living yet...)

Touching on the question of identity again: if I'm a person who thrives on a sense of tempered honesty, not only because of the nature of my chosen profession, but because of how I've let my past sit on my shoulders for so long, what am I? Maybe I should pull a Pinter and just disregard what has happened, because sometimes it's hard to remember your past, even what happened just this morning. Maybe I should disregard these questions for now, as they only keep me from finishing things I really really need to do, like my FASA. And also: having a quarter life crisis on your blog is so...stupid.

So I'm having a little breakdown. I'm trying to work through it, but please excuse these sorts of discussions for a little while longer. I'll get back on track, and finish blogging about Suzuki. Soon. Someday. I promise.

NY Event Number Twelve: Practicing yoga in Times Square.

About five years ago, the Times Square Alliance decided they would celebrate the more neglected of the two Solstices. The Winter Solstice arrives on December 21st, but is often grouped in with the celebration of various holidays, and of course Times Square's biggest yearly event, New Year's Eve. However, the Summer Solstice, particularly in Western culture, usually goes by unnoticed--presumably because its celebrants were predominately pagan and that just didn't mesh with main-stream Puritanical rule. So any rituals that went along with the day were squelched over time and/or forgotten. The idea was to commemorate the longest day of the year, and give the sun its due for helping sustain our lives. So the TSA founded an event where yoga (the physical practice of which of course includes a linked sequence of asanas called surya namaskar, or "sun salutation") would be practiced throughout the day in order to do just that. At the first year of this event literally one person showed up. This year, at the first class of the day, 8:00AM on a Saturday morning, I practiced on the island in Times Square between 44th and 43rd street, bordered by Broadway and 7th Ave. I was one of 300 people there just for that class.

I heard about the function last year from Douglass Stewart, an instructor at the studio I work at and one of the teachers I practice under whenever I get the chance. Douglass actually co-founded the event, and after I missed last year I was determined to make it--especially as I don't know when I'll be back here for the Solstice again.

It was a lot of fun. The TSA had a number of sponsors for the day, who all contributed to large yellow goody bags that were stocked with items that included a Solstice t-shirt, Snapple antioxidant water, Fiji water, Body Shop samples, and several SoyJoy bars--and none of which were the dreaded Mango bar, which I find personally disgusting. The first 500 people at the event (of which I was one) also got a free mat from Danskin, which was too slippery to practice on there, but will no doubt break-in after a light vinegar wash.


I did the first class of the day and the final class of the day, greeting the sun coming up (I actually woke up at five that morning, so yes: I literally did this thing) and saying goodbye to it in the evening. The evening class was particularly cool because we started at sunset, and by the time we were done with our meditation and svasana, the sky was lit only by the lights in the Square. (I was actually in my meditation, sensing these flashing lights beyond my closed eyes, and thought I was on the brink of discovering something--but of course it was just an ad for Inspired by The Bible Experience.)


Tranquility is hard to find, no doubt, especially in this city of over eight million people. Yoga is about balance, part of which comes with balancing the mind. Like the second sutra of Patanjali tells us, "The restraint of the modifications of the mind-stuff is Yoga," leading us to the third sutra, "Then the Seer [Self] abides in His own nature." It's a challenge to do this at anytime in the city, but like the ad above asks, "Can you find it in Times Square?" And I did. Somehow having everything else going on around me allowed me go into a deeper space of self. Aside from the occasional loss of focus (looking up in trikonasana and seeing what I can look forward to on upcoming episodes of Grey's Anatomy), it was definately one the more enjoyable practices I've had in a while.

I saw a lot of people I knew at the event--teachers, clients, and friends, (and this super model--I am NOT kidding {Boys: do more yoga. You will meet women.}) and I feel blessed to have been able to be a part of this NY yoga community for my time. These individuals have taught me a lot about life and myself, and I hope I can honor those lessons in the time to come, no matter what side of the pond I'm on. Namaste, my friends.

(NOTE: All photos, except for the Solstice ad itself, were taken by Cathy Lilly.)