I have been reading a lot and seeing a lot of plays. Finished reading “In the Lake of the Woods” by Tim O’Brien in the morning yesterday. Then I picked up “A Spy in the House of Love” by Anais Nin, obviously I read in no particular order. Last night we saw “Apartment 3A” by the Workhorse Theatre Company in North Minneapolis. This morning, more reading of Nin.
In the last three weeks, I got the chance to volunteer in the box office for Off-Leash Area’s production of “The Jury,” which I was fortunate enough to see three times. As Jay and I watch less televised material, I find myself filling the space with theater and reading. This is a good thing. I feel so much more like ‘myself’ – more natural, less dissatisfied.
I don’t know what it is about live theater that touches me so – whether it’s great work or not – I think it’s that it’s the honest effort to be alive. More than alive. To be alive and at the same time juxtapose another life onto life. I find it magical and fascinating, and I love that people try. Another thing I love about live theater is that it only happens once. The same play runs, obviously more than once, but the experience of it as an audience member – that only happens once. If you see a show multiple times, you have multiple experiences, not the same experience muptiple times.
Normally, theater is just something I do for fun, enjoyment, enlightenment, too, but I have made the discovery that it is also a coping tool for me. When I can’t stand life – when things are just too difficult, take me to see a play. I don’t care if it’s A Charlie Brown Christmas or what. Live theater is a curative. A salve. Neosporin to my soul. 🙂
Anyway, I love theater. So there you have it. And books are not bad either.