Thoughts. (And a book recommendation).

I have been thinking a great deal lately about being of service. How can I be of service in the world?  Yes, I can volunteer with various organizations. Yes, I can donate clothing and food.  I can be a good friend, daughter, citizen and hopefully someday soon, a good wife.  Supportive, patient, fun, honest – qualities vital to all relationships, no matter their definition.  I can be kind to strangers and rescue an animal from a shelter.  All of these and more are ways that I can be of service. 

What about on a larger scale?

I believe very deeply – to the core of my being – that theatre is useful. I would go even further to say that it is necessary.  Art, music, dance, theatre – these are all necessities.  But my relationship to the theatre has changed over the past few years.  On sabbatical from acting (I prefer the word “sabbatical” with its intimation of something temporary; the idea that I will never again act in a play is a thought so painful I cannot entertain it), I am putting my creative energies towards writing.  

Words are vital, living things.  They can illuminate, educate, soothe, and entertain.  Provoke, calm and confound.  They can be of service.  The books that have been a balm to me throughout my life are too great in number to list in this blog post.  I recently finished another one: HOW TO BE A WOMAN by Caitlin Moran.  This collection of essays is hilarious, thoughtful, bold and unafraid.  Reading this book showed me that I needn’t be ashamed of calling myself a feminist.  It made me laugh and think and feel compelled to put my own truths on paper.  It was of service to me in those ways.   

I can contribute my own words to the plethora that are already out there. Perhaps they will be read on a huge scale, perhaps only by a few dozen.  Those numbers don’t really matter though, do they? What matters is that I speak my truth. 

At this moment in time, my truth is that I have a day job that is so far from what I want my life to look like that it makes me sad and frustrated.  So I guess I can write about that. Perhaps that will be of service to someone stumbling upon this blog, by letting them know they are not alone – that, for many, creative pursuits must be squeezed into the small spaces found in our lives, even if we feel tired and lonely and afraid. 

I am tired and lonely and afraid. But I'm going to keep writing.