I had a new experience on Friday and I am still trying to decide if I enjoyed it or not. Most of you know that I have horrible stage fright most of the time. It makes me a wreck leading up to any time I have to stand in front of a crowd. Once I am in front of said crowd, I generally am fairly calm and do my thing without too much anxiety- it is just the days and moments leading up to the event.
Whenever I get ready for a performance, I think about the people I am performing with, how my mess ups might affect the work they are doing. I think about the audience and how they have paid (or at the very least showered and put on a clean pair of socks) to see what I am doing and I want it to be worth their time and money. I hear the voices from my childhood telling me that I am not good enough and I hear my inner voice tell me everything that can go wrong.
This time I was asked to participate in a new Dias De Los Muertos celebration in the mall where we have just launched a new theatre. To be a good neighbor, I agreed. It was simple- come up with a deceased person that I could honor as a mentor. Past that, there weren’t really rules so I could be as creative as I wanted.
Fun, huh?
It turned out to be a little more work than I expected and my creativity is very mediocre compared to a lot of the people I know. I wrote a monologue telling a little story about the person I chose, added a few bars of a song at the beginning and again at the end. I then memorized (sort of) the monologue and put together a costume (of sorts.)
I then had to decorate the frame I was provided- a large picture type frame that I would pose in before and after my presentation. I decided to paint it black and decoupage the playbills from past and currents shows at the new theatre.
I was also stage managing a show that had more props, food and cues than any I think I have ever done. I made crash sounds and watched out for actors and handed out boxes and lasagna and wine and sandwiches and vases and . . . Suffice it to say it was a lot. The night of my Day of the Dead performance was also a show night, so I had lots on my mind and on my plate.
I rehearsed in front of my cat for almost three weeks, but I knew eventually I needed to practice in front of a breathing human type. I thought I would get a rehearsal with the lady in charge of the event, but she got sick and couldn’t be there. I actually thought performing for one person would be kind of awkward anyway, but I probably should have.
Finally, the night before the event, which was Halloween night, I decided to run my performance past my husband Tim. People don’t give Tim enough credit for being creative- I don’t think he even gives himself enough credit! I was correct thinking that singing and speaking in front of one person would be awkward and the glass of wine I had while making chili and handing out candy made it a less than stellar rehearsal. Tim did give me a few great suggestions and I realized I had done all that I could do to prepare.
Lunch with my girlfriends, a trip to the bank, Post Office and grocery store made for a hectic afternoon before heading to the theatre to try to get my stage manager work completed before the people came in to see my presentation.
I did all of my pre- performance rituals, the 3 P’s and a quick run through in an empty space before getting into the frame and waiting for the audience to walk up.
The event was a group of performers scattered throughout the mall, each with a frame they had decorated. Poses were held by each performer and when a crowd gathered they presented their work. I was the last performer that everyone would gather to see before a finale song by some young musicians in the hallway outside the theatre.
I have to say that while I did not get to see anyone else’s work, I know many of the performers and they are all way more talented and creative than I. Making me the large, final performance made me even more nervous since all I can do is talk and sometimes sing a little. The puppeteers and expressive dancers would build the audience up only to be let down when they got to me. I felt it in my bones!
When one of the leaders of this event walked in and said the crowd was on it’s way, I jumped into my frame, posed and waited. I was turned to the side with my head down and a hat on my head so I could only see a little out of my peripheral vision. I had no idea how many people were coming and I had no cue to start.
When 3 or 4 people wandered up, I thought to myself that maybe that was it and I should start. I heard more footsteps so I waited. More people came in and then more and more. I waited in my outfit, which was reminiscent of my honoree, but probably looked more like a mime’s costume than anything else! I felt very vulnerable and exposed as I stood still, framed by the work I had done the week before.
I had been a nervous wreck only a few minutes before, but as I waited and breathed I felt strangely calm. I knew that people were looking at me and my desire to “be seen” only a few weeks before seemed a distant memory.
See, a couple of weeks ago, I went by myself to a play downtown. When I got out of my car, I ran into an old friend in the parking lot. After a brief chat I went inside where I got my ticket and saw another acquaintance in the lobby.
He was sitting on a sofa and looking at his program. I have several connections to this person and have actually worked with him twice on commercial shoots.
I am the first to admit that I am shy and going up to people, even people I know fairly well, is a struggle for me. I have to push myself to go up and speak to people, preferring for them to come to me. I never think anyone will remember me and I assume few people care to talk to me. It is a challenge for me to just walk up and speak to someone.
I walked up to the man and said hello. He looked at me with a blank stare and said hello with no recognition at all. Well, of course I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. How could I have been so dumb as to think this person would remember me or care to talk to me!!
I mumbled that it was good to see him and that I hoped he was doing well as I walked off and he returned to his program.
I walked up to the usher, who looked familiar but I couldn’t quite place him, still a bit shaken from my last encounter. The man walked me to my seat, welcomed me and called me “Marietta”. As he walked away I suddenly remembered who he was. He later brought a couple to sit by me, this time telling them they were right next to “Mrs. Lunceford.” I realized how good it made me feel for someone to recognize me and call me by name, to actually see me.
The sermon series at church the past month has been about seeing. About seeing correctly, about really seeing what is important, about seeing beyond the surface. In one sermon the pastor spoke about the fact that the ancient peoples thought light came from our eyes and thought that looking at something could change it.
After feeling so insignificant when I spoke to someone who clearly had no idea who I was, I realized that some things are changed when they are really seen. People!
Of all of the things that come into our line of vision in a day, we really “see” very few. In being seen you feel a sense of validation that maybe is silly when you think about it, but real when you experience it.
So here I was, standing in a giant picture frame in front of what turned out to be around 50 people, waiting for the crowd to gather and get still. I felt the nerves calm down and I began to sing. I turned and faced a group of people, a few I knew and most that I didn’t, and I shared the story of a man who was an influence on my life during a very difficult time for me.
I messed up a few lines I think, but for the most part I don’t really know what I did. I kind of blank out when I perform. I become someone else. Although this time I had no character to hide behind, I still seemed to zone out and just talk. I then sang one more line and went back to my still pose.
It took what seemed like forever for the people to leave so I could unfreeze and get to work on my duties as stage manager for the evening play performance. I didn’t feel the usual excitement/ let down/ return of nerves I get post performance- I didn’t have time for that! Somehow I felt I had been seen, that my late teacher had been seen, that I had helped to make this event work and that I had represented the theatre tolerably well.
I may never be asked to do anything like this again. I am probably OK with that! The 3 weeks of planning and nerves while putting together this performance and a play was a little more stress than I like. But as experiences go, this was definitely a learning experience, a reflecting experience and a “being seen” experience.
And isn’t that what most people want, why we post pictures on line, why we share our stories- to be seen, really seen. To know that somehow, somewhere, people know us and care about what we are saying and doing. That somehow we matter. That our story matters.
Being recognized is a great feeling, knowing that you shared a story about someone that helped to form who you are is also a great feeling. Getting to perform something you wrote and worked hard on is a great feeling and accomplishing something new is a great feeling.
Look at the people around you, really see who is there, who they are and where they come from. I got a chance to tell a part of my story to a group of people, but we all have a story to tell and we all want to share it, have it heard and to be seen for the person we truly are.
