Showman/Shaman

This is from a ROUGH DRAFT of a speech I am preparing to deliver to Philadelphia Yearly Meeeting in residential session, July 25 - 30 at Rowan University, New Jersey. The speech will happen Friday night the 27th. This is only ONE PART of a speech which uses the bridge-building metaphor to look at a variety of challenges and opportunities facing our yearly meeting.

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In addition to a bit of research on bridge-building, in preparation for this speech I also gave myself a brief refresher on the long and tortured history of divisions and schisms among Friends. It was partially this research which led to my earlier proposal that we intentionally sow seeds of joy in our meetings, for what a bitter, angry and cantankerous Society we have been. Barely more than 100 years after Fox’s great opening, tensions had begun to grow between Friends, and by the mid 19th century, our Society was ripping itself apart into smaller and smaller groups, each convinced of their Quaker “rightness”. Speaking generally now, and leaving aside the Hicksite/Orthodox split of this yearly Meeting, what I noticed was that much of the conflict arose around words: what they meant, how they were used, and to what extent they bestowed authority on one position or another. I noticed that of all the words in question, the ones from the Bible were the most often used to sow disunity among Friends. And I noticed that Friends who sought creedal authority from the Bible or from other written words seemed to me the most likely to splinter away into a unique group.

As I got deeper into this depressing aspect of our history, a quote of Fox’s came forward in my mind. George once said "You will say Christ sayeth this and the apostles sayeth that, but what canst thou say? Art thou a child of the light and has walked in the Light, and what thou speakest is it inwardly from God?" and I remembered that he urged us to read the Scriptures “in the Spirit in which they were given forth.” And I turned to our own Faith and Practice which instructs me that we in Philadelphia Yearly Meeting “do not . . . consider scriptures . . . to be the final revelation of God’s nature and will. Rather, we believe in continuing revelation. This term emphasizes our ongoing communion with a Living God.”

Some present may be afraid that I am about to take sides in some aspect of the controversies I am alluding to. But I come to you tonight with the opposite message. The bridge between yearly meetings depends upon the abandonment of all controversies. It means acknowledging that other Friends worship differently than we do, and that they have a right to, and further, that we have something to learn from them. And here is the hard part, but perhaps the part where we can walk with Jesus most closely: it means we have to extend that openness and good will even when we feel it is not extended to us. One of our great challenges, and also our great strengths in this yearly meeting is our dedication to inclusiveness, and our willingness to sit in worship with almost anyone. Then let us reach out to our more Evangelical and Bible-centered brethren . . . or does our inclusiveness not include them? Living in “the virtue of that life and power that takes away the occasion of all wars” does not only refer to outward wars with military weapons, but also to inward wars in which bitter intentions, judgmental words and fear are the weapons. Friends, the peace testimony results from opening your hearts to God – that’s the Power Fox was talking about. If this bold bridge between yearly meetings is to begin in our yearly meeting, then let us take the first step and lay the first foundations.

Notice I am talking about “yearly meetings”, and have stayed away from the initials that identify broad groups of Friends, such as F.G.C., F.U.M. and E.F.I. While these organizations are important, and the work they do is vital, I have found that Friends can use these initials both to throw up walls around themselves and others so identified, as well as cast aspersions on other Friends based on assumptions about what those initials mean. Simply put, I have found that phrases like “F.G.C. Friend” or “F.U.M. Friend” lead to generalities, stereotypes and misunderstandings. So I have decided to identify myself as a member of Philadelphia Yearly Meeting and leave it at that. What the testimony of the gathering at the Burlington Conference Center convinces me of, is that when Friends from around the country meet in a worshipful gathering, these “initials of identification” begin to lose their importance. I do not mean to make light of our differences with Friends from other Yearly Meetings. They are real and important. But what I lift before you is that they are not more important than those things which bind and unite us. I believe that what unites us can be most easily discerned when we are physically together. Further, I believe that what unites us – Friends from all over the country - is our love of God as God speaks to us in every moment, and when we acknowledge that God is uniting us there is no human distinction that rends us apart.

Even more troubling to me is the way some Friends use the words “liberal” and “conservative” to identify themselves and others. Here, I am not talking about the Conservative Yearly Meeting of the mid-western states. These are Friends with a rigorously defined position in the spectrum of Quaker theology, and have chosen the word “conservative” intentionally and with care. Actually, these Friends are a good place to start as to why I find the words “liberal” and “conservative” so pernicious when used by Friends outside of that yearly meeting, in an attempt to specify . . . what? Well, my experience is that these words are not used rigorously or with care, but haphazardly. Generally, the word “liberal” is used by Friends in our Yearly Meeting to specify an alignment with a variety of political and social positions. Likewise, I think some Evangelical Friends use “conservative” to self-identify with a right-wing political movement. If I am right about the use of these words, than this is an example of what Jerry Falwell called “creeping secularism” within our Yearly Meeting.

We are a Religious Society, not a Political Society. The words “liberal” and “conservative” have been poisoned in our popular culture, abused by talk show hosts and politicians, mocked by comedians and attached to a million and one definitions, depending on your political persuasions. They are laden with baggage hung on them by both ends of the political spectrum and when they are invited into our worship or discourse, they bring that baggage with them. Worse, they are lazy short-cuts for a much more involved conversation between Friends about the ways in which their faith is witnessed in the world. When Friends have face-to-face encounters – as our Young Friends did last February – Friends find how poor and shabby words like liberal and conservative can be, especially when held against the magnificent complexity of a human being’s attempt to live a faithful life. These words put us into ill-defined categories, and while I might be content to be called a liberal in other circumstances, I am not in Quaker circumstances. These words exclude, for if I say I am a liberal Quaker and worship at a liberal meeting, where is my Republican Friend to go? Finally, these words must be seen as agents of division, the second obstacle I named for this bridge to span.

All I want to tell you, Friend, is how I feel God guiding me in my life. I want to test these sensations with you, to see if you find them sound. I will not attach any label to where God guides me – whether God leads me to a profession that Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior, or whether God leads me to support the marriage two women or two men under the care of my meeting. God is greater and mightier than any word we invent, and more mysterious than any book. My life is dedicated to living close to this mighty mystery, and to do that I need the help of my Friends – all of them.

There are some labels I will gladly wear. One of them I found on quakerquaker.org. I discovered that I am a “convergent Friend” – a Quaker deeply interested in knitting up our fractious society. Let me mangle a metaphor now, and say we can knit these bridges between yearly meetings through more face-to-face interaction, and a focus on what unites us as Friends. How about that image: a bridge made of warm knitted wool. Cozy, but you have tread carefully. One simple way to build this bridge is to reinvigorate our tradition of traveling ministers. Friends who are called to build this bridge should be supported by their meetings to travel to other yearly meetings, worship with Friends there and seek to make connections based on our common goals. And let the goal be frank: we don’t want to change your mind about anything, we just want to be closer to you. Is there a way, Friend? What will it take to span our divisions? Will we try what love can do? What lasting relationships can we build between Friends across this nation and between yearly meetings, dreaming of a kind of united witness Rufus Jones dreamed of, in which Friends from all corners of our nation really, actually changed the world. Ironically, it is our commitment to inclusiveness that makes us in this yearly meeting ideally positioned to begin building this bridge. It is that characteristic that drives some others Friends crazy – our reluctance to exclude anyone. Then let us live this witness fully, and reach out to include other Friends, even ones who say we’re not Quakers. To which I might respond, that’s okay, but can I be your friend?

Dear Ben,

Thanks for bringing me to life, or should I say, banging your head against the shape Will made for me. Whatever I am, I'm not easy. You tried, and in some places you got closer to me than in other places. The fact of your genitals was interesting to me, and I'm not usually in favor of these cross-gender experiments. I'm an opportunity for a woman, so a part of me resents your work on me. God knows there aren't that many chances for women to bang their heads against me. I'm tempted to make a saucy remarked about being banged by a man, but I'll resist.

My greatest problem with what you did with me is that it remained experimental. By that I mean, I kept waiting for you to make a stand, and you didn't. I think you were trying to play it safe, which is hard to do with me. I am, essentially, unsafe - for men, for women, for everyone. You were trying not to offend anyone. But Ben, my reason for being is offense. You can't really bring me to life without offending someone, or at least scaring the hell out of a few people. You found some of my fury in the beginning, especially in the cage. My fury was undermined by the doll in act two - ah well. I was not fond of the doll, I look forward to tormenting a real person in that scene. It's really the only scene in which you see how brutal I've become. But I appreciated how hurt and angry you were at my father.

I liked the wooing scene, I liked how physical was. You found my delight in sparring, competing and winning. How satisfying it was to end up "on top". And you discovered how good if felt to be praised, especially in public. You see, Ben, I have never been praised. I, and women like me everywhere and from all times, are ridiculed when we are seen at all. I represent the "ugly" women, large yet invisible, the ones who cease to exist when a slender, shapely female walks by. Maybe the doll wasn't such a bad idea after all.

This is why I resented it that you lost weight to play me. I understand why you did it. But if you really wanted to know how it is to be me, you should have gained weight, grown a hairy mole on your chin and worn glasses. You know how you self-consciously played with that little fat roll the girdle produced when you sat down backstage? Now imagine the fat exploding like bread dough out from between the top of your pants and the bottom of the girdle. Imagine the awkward glances from people who don't want to be caught staring at you. Imagine the jokes, the loneliness, the humiliation. I had two options: submission and death, or fury and life.

I know, I know - then how could you submit to Petruchio, you're asking, and then promote obedience as the ideal relationship for women to have with their husbands? But this is where you got it right, or at least came close. It's not submission to him, it's something else, something much closer to love, but infused with a letting go. Your focus on exploring humor, absurdity, merriment with him was dead on. What I think you missed (you and him) is the cost of such a letting go: what, exactly, did you both let go of, out there, under the sun/moon, after the word "forward"? I can't tell you what it is (that's my mystery), but I will tell you that it was dear to you and dear to him. A hint: think of the grief/relief the alcoholic feels when finally putting down the drink. Sun/moon. Grief/relief.

And the big speech? Good for you for understanding that it is something spoken at a specific time, at a specific place and for specific people. People forget that when Will conceived me, that speech was an astonishing act of transformation. Imagine again the fat woman with the hairy mole saying that speech. Imagine her, the butt of a thousand jokes, speaking it sincerely and with love. It wasn't only the players on stage at the Globe whose jaws dropped. The comic groteseque was suddenly to be taken seriously! You found my delightful domination of everyone present - even my husband, who thinks I'll say something quaint and obedient, but is knocked over by the 43 lines of eloquence I come up with the spot. Finally I am in complete control, at the center of the party, putting people in their places, celebrating others and speaking a brand new truth which has saved me. The essence of it is this: stop fighting. Yes, yes, yes - the rest of it is objectionable by your standards, so many years in the future, but I am not of your time. I am of a time when human beings had to fit in to a rigid order or there was chaos. That's just the way it was back then. You're all fond of thinking of Will's world as wispy and whimsical, but really, it was frequently appalling, often very violent and women were property (nothing surprising to us about Petruchio's "chattel" speech in act three). More often than not, the streets and alleys of Cheapside were scenes from nightmares. Now think again of that final speech, and you may understand how, in that context, it is a triumphant act for me.

Another thing I liked in your go at it, and this was also part of Will's design: Petruchio never hits me, though I hit him and many others (I can come close to killing Bianca in act two, but never mind). Given the culture of the time, in which women were beaten regularly and publicly, the idea he expresses - that he will "kill a wife with kindness" - was unusual to say the least. That he says it of a big, fat ugly woman who physically attacks anyone who upsets her was more than unusual, it was - to us back then - absurdly comic. Perverse as it may seem to you, the standard response to women like me back then was the boot or the back of the hand. So what I learn from him, and what I communicate in my way in the Big Speech, is that violence doesn't work, but love does. The absurdly comic becomes a pathway to revolutionary love (a love connected to the Gospels, by the way), couched in language acceptable to the time. You both got that, or got close to it, and in doing so, you honored me.

But my favorite time living inside you Ben wasn't in the play at all. It was when you donned that silly dress, put on those ear muffs and danced during your warm up. What strange and extraordinary music you listen to! How I have wanted to dance for all time, and how I wish that Will had put a dance for me his play. How sweet it was to feel your shyness as you started dancing among the other actors warming up, and the stage managers prepping. How wonderful when you stopped caring. Just know Ben, that you were not only dancing for me, and finding the girl inside you who longs for love and light and release the same as the other girls, the smaller ones who seem to attract attention and love without effort, you were dancing for the large and invisible women everywhere, yes even the ones who exist in your time. Maybe I'm not so far away after all.

Take this from me Ben: fighting no, loving yes, dance whenever possible.

Break a leg,

Kate

This is in response to questions sent to me by Anne Berkowitz. It was an assignment for her school in which she had to interview a person in the career of her choice. Anne is fine young actor who has appeared in some major roles at People's Light & Theatre, though she's not quite 20 yet.

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Here are the questions...

1. What have been the greatest aspects of your career so far?

You've found me in a somewhat dark mood, so I'm going to have to dig for this one. I guess the journey itself is the reward: the sense that I am given the opportunity to explore new worlds in each play I do. Tied to that are the gifts of working with people I love and admire, in an art I am devoted to. The fun of it is a gift, as well as the fact that I choose it, rather than do it out of some sort of grim obligation. Recently, the feeling that my work connects me to a community of audience members who need me/us, the sense that we are doing something vital and important in the lives of others, the belief that making art is very real way to change the world for the better. The acknowledgment of my peers matters too, hearing that in the eyes of those I respect I have improved somehow, or surprised them. Being able to chart my own development and holding on to the sense that I am ever-growing is vital.

2. What have been the worst aspects/sacrifices?

Money, money, money. I recently told my students that we live in a country in which money, or the acquisition of material comforts, is at the top of almost every professional ladder. If you're an actor, I told them, you take money off the top step. It's just not a part of the career goal - and if it is, you're deluded. So something else has to go on the top step (see answers to #1). But the stress of financial insecurity is relentless and the consequences - especially if you have children - are very real. The psychological exhaustion from it can be debilitating. Tied to this issue is the reality that artists are not taken seriously in mainstream America. I feel constantly marginalized, and my endless explanations of what I do to the parents of my kids' friends wear on me ("no, I'm not on T.V. . . .")

Sadly, many theatre institutions contribute to these difficulties by choosing to put their own financial resources elsewhere (like scenic arts), or pay a lot of actors little money instead of a few actors more money. And theaters make it very difficult for theatre artists to live anything close to a normal life by insisting that we rehearse on weekends (I can't spend time with my kids when they're free; I can't go to church/meeting/temple/mosque), and by being so inflexible when comes to scheduling. Many theaters make a big to-do about being "family-friendly", but try getting them to work with you on your child-care dilemmas. You'd think you were asking for some flexibility so you could go buy crack. "Family-friendly" in theatre-speak means that theatre presents plays for families, not that it is friendly to the families of the actors it employs.

3. What kind of an education do you recommend?

Even though I teach acting to undergraduates in a conservatory BFA program, I am not in favor of these programs generally. First, they usually promote the lie that if you study there you will have a successful career as an actor. Even the most cursory look at actor employment statistics will tell what a bunch of hooey that is. So I find a fundamental dishonesty at work at many of these programs. I try to deal with that in my own classes by devoting some time for discussion (partly based on my book) about the actual lives of actual actors (see answers to #s 1 & 2 above).

Call me old fashioned, but I believe a good liberal arts education at a college/university with abundant acting opportunities, both curricular and extra-curricular, is the way to go. Actors should be educated and curious and have a life-long love of learning. They should be able to think well and incisively, and enter their careers with with a broad education in the arts and humanities. Then, if the student wants to specialize, graduate school is the way to go - after a few years of adventure: living the life of the young actor, auditioning, triumphing, despairing, etc. But beware of graduate schools too and the implicit lies they tell. There is no school that can guarantee you anything professionally.

4. What have you learned about yourself the most through theater?

That I am like a dog with a bone. I told my students the other day the story of my first professional audition, which was such a nightmare that they were writhing in their seats in embarrassment for me. It occurred to me then - again - wow, I must really want to do this. Thinking about about all the shit I have had to endure, I know that I am quietly relentless in my art. This aspect has an edge to it, a not altogether pleasant one. It makes me defensive and prickly. It can bleed into my work and I can become so fixed on an aspect of a character, or problem in rehearsal, that I become obstinate. When push come to shove, I will trade tact for truth - the truth as I see it. Some folks like this about me, some don't.

But the upside of this is that I am passionate. There is nothing ambivalent about my work in the theatre. I suffer from grandiosity and it leads me to a kind of Joan of Arc relationship both to my own work and to the work of my peers and actors everywhere. At my best, I can be inspirational and an example to others. Whatever else directors may think of me, they know they get 110% from me every second I am present. Acting has made me punctual and organized. I know I am a professional with professional standards I hold myself and others accountable to. This includes the right to speak truth to power when one's intuition demands it.

I have learned that I have universes inside me. It may be the height of hubris to say it, but really, there's nothing I can't do. There are things I can do better than other things. But my goodness, I just finished playing Katharina the shrew for God's sake. A year ago I was a Puritan minister. Before that a comic swamp monster. Before that a young Dad. I am able to transform, which is a gift I have been given, and I cherish it.

5. How do you use performance to give back to the community?

Before most performances, I say a brief prayer: "God be with me, God be through me, I am the faucet, turn me on." I am very clear now that each performance is an offering I give to the people there to witness it. The best shows are the ones in which I feel that energy flowing through me to them, and then feel them send it back to me. Sometimes you can absolutely feel the communion Stanislavsky writes about. Those shows are precious and rare. The others, the ones in which the connection feels more common, or tenuous at best, are acts of faith. Faith that I am serving that little community by virtue of performing the role as I have learned it, in collaboration with the other actors and artists who bring the play to life each time. Acting for me, and its connection to community, is an act of faith. Like any faith, it isn't easy to feel all the time. I don't believe in it because I know it, I believe it because I choose to believe it.

There are more direct ways I can use performing to give back to community. Talking with audiences after shows is one. Working with young people is another. There are many disadvantaged communities that are starving for creativity (public schools, prisons, retirement homes). I have become interested of late in getting more involved, somehow, in reaching out to these communities.

6. How do you work through/keep your performance fresh during the 8+ shows a week?

You learn to develop the ability to stay attentive. The beauty of live performance is that nothing ever happens the same way twice. So it's no "act" to really watch and listen to your scene partner(s). The freshness doesn't lie with me, it lies with them. Even if I can tell their bored or spacy, boy, that'll get you focused fast! Martha Graham wrote about the "queer dissatisfaction" all artists feel. I like to put a more positive spin on it and call it a boundless curiosity we cultivate. Each character I play is endlessly fascinating, perplexing, mysterious.

Now look, there are some shows when all I can think about is ________ (fill in the blank with mundane real-life issue). So we have to be forgiving of ourselves, and trust our technique and practice enough to deliver a stage-worthy show even if we're constantly distracted by fantasies about lunch, or the hottie in the front row.

7. What kind of balancing is needed through and through?

Not sure what this question means, but I'll take a crack at it. I think it's important for actors to have things/activities/people in their lives that as important as acting but not directly connected to it. For me, the obvious people are my children. Being with my kids is a joy and occasional challenge that is at the very center of my life and only peripherally connected to my life as an actor. My kids have a wonderful way of straightening out my priorities, of making the disappointments matter less and temper the successes as well. They are an endless joy which would continue if I never acted again in my life. And my writing is a vital and important creative outlet that I have complete control over. It rewards me on its own and it needs no theater or director's permission to enjoy. My wife has a similar outlet through quilting. I have come to believe that it's important for actors to have these kinds of callings and activities which exist independent of acting. They balance the dependent nature of acting: dependent on all the other forces required to align in the right way to allow the actor to act. This quality of having a multifaceted life is central to the archetype I have named the "citizen-actor". It's important to note that it flies in the face of an old-school attitude about acting, which says that the actor must sacrifice everything to her pursuit of her art, and be unencumbered by other concerns and distractions. Not only is this horse-shit, but it promotes a damaging and myopic relationship to one's art and life.

8. What kind of management do you recommend?

None. I naively believe that an actor should be in full control his career and the contracts he enters into to. This is easy for me to say because there are no negotiations around contracts in my acting. I'm sure that for the high-rollers in NY and LA agents and managers are necessary, but I have very limited experience with all that. I sense in my gut that managers/agents are part of a larger evil in which actors are treated as commodities and bought and sold in the entertainment marketplace. Yuck.

9. How do you prepare for an audition? What is running through your head before you step into the room?

I try to read the whole script I am auditioning for. I spend an hour or two each day for the couple of days leading up to the audition just rehearsing the sides, making simple but visible choices. If I have questions I feel like I need to ask before I begin, I make sure I can articulate them clearly and politely. If there's an accent or dialect involved I focus on that challenge, often marking up my script with simple notes meant to remind me of how the sounds are different. I have learned not to over-prepare. Over-preparing for me leads to anxiety and self-consciousness. I want to arrive with some clear and easy to execute choices that I'm not too attached to, so I can drop them on a dime if the director asks me to. I try to dress appropriately for the audition. This doesn't mean arriving in costume, but in general it means looking as good as I can within the style of the play. I ask myself, does this character need a jacket and tie? Jeans and a t-shirt? Sneakers or cowboy boots?

Before the audition, I tend to want to be quiet. I've never been a chit-chat guy in any situation, so if I see friends, I say hi, I'm not rude, but I will keep to myself. I try to cultivate a sense of excitement, and I notice my nerves jangling around. This is good, I think to myself, that's your creativity raring to go.

As I go into the audition I am mindful of a few things. A) it's an advertisement of "Ben", as opposed to a performance of the role. So I want "Ben" to be as appealing as possible. That means being cheerful and professional, and executing those choices as well as I can. B) it's a chance to perform, which is a blessing. I LOVE performing, and so I allow my love of performing to shine at my audition. The trick is to focus it through those choices I mentioned before. C) being at an audition is a sign that my career is alive, whether I get the role or not. I remind myself that the goal is to keep auditioning. Getting the roles isn't up to me. If I can leave the audition and say to myself, I did the best I could do today, that's the cake. The rest is icing.

I remember standing on the sidewalk outside an agent's office in NY, rehearsing my monologue (yes, I was rehearsing my monologue in public, on the sidewalk, and no one batted an eye. That's NY.) I finished, and the heavens opened, and I heard a voice that said "you cannot control the outcome of this audition." I almost cried, the relief was so great. I auditioned for said agent in between two filing cabinets and she free-lanced me for a while. A year later I left NY.

10. What are your "words of wisdom" for budding actors?


What, the first 9 isn't enough??

I will defer to Max Ehrmann and his poem:

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.