I WROTE THIS POEM, WHICH I LIKE YOU WILL VISIT INSTEAD OF THIS:
Read the Second Take of my FIRST EVER Sunday Scribble here -What message do you have to share? What message have you gotten? What message is life giving you? Did you listen? Did someone else? What's the message here?
It would be so easy for my hippie self to say “I have a message of LOVE to share.”
I can almost hear the airy-fairyness floating around. Oh, please.
Let me see if I can get this more clear.
I am directing a play, FIRST KISSES. We open Friday, so from today until Thursday it will be a mad (or not so mad) scramble to weave all the technical components together and bring this vision to life.
(I
almost shouted FINALLY! Mostly because we have been working on this since
November, one of my longest times with my mind so directed on one show. I have
a tendency to act in shows back-to-back-to-back, one at a time, one a month.)
I
see our production as a living, breathing Valentine to the people of
Bakersfield. Naturally, since I boldly proclaimed that to a reporter, I had to
look at the history of Valentine greetings. This is so me.
A
question arises, I tiptoe to google and discover all sorts of things like, “The
first Valentine greetings came in the middle ages when lovers would sing or
write verses and deliver them to one another in person, singing or speaking
their love words to each other.”
My
hopeful romantic side swooned, wondering what it would be like to have some one
sing me a Valentine greeting.
Valentine
cards came later and in a variety of versions beginning in the 19th
century.
I
remember when I was a little child, when we had those what seemed to be
enormous boxes to stuff our Valentine greetings into for one another. I think
it was in the second grade kids got into writing secret codes for their names.
I never particularly cared who sent them. I guess I felt pretty loved so who
was giving the loving wasn’t all that relevant to me.
I
have been cutting wood for the set and am proud to announce, “the bones” of the
set are done, compliments of me, Katherine, a table saw and a jig saw.
It
doesn’t show on the wood that while I was cutting I internally intoned “love,
love, love, love”
Just
like my hippie self who shouted “I have a message of LOVE to share!” I have a
hippie self who feels like my breathing LOVE into the wood will somehow fill
the theater and the hearts of the actors and technicians.
Last
week one of my friends was asked this question on facebook:
“What
does Julie do with most of her time?”
“LOVE”.
So
I suppose I am listening to this message from life.
This
is the message I am hearing and I am sharing.
Give
love, receive love, create love, share love, make more love.
Sing
it, speak it, portray it, feel it, share it, lose it and love again, anyway.
There is always plenty, there is always more.