Savour the Moment

Life is never, ever black and white. Nothing is ever straight forward. 

Just short of 3 months ago I got engaged. And so the last 3 months have been such a precious wee time with lots of really exciting and lovely things happening in preparation for getting married in June. But honestly, the past 3 months have included some of the most painful times too.

Today would have been my Mum's 61st birthday. But she is still and will forevermore be 53. Writing it in numbers like that makes me realise just how long we've been without her, but as if it were only yesterday I can vividly remember the evening before she passed away, when we had just found out that her diagnosis was terminal. I've never been very good at doing emotion with my family (although I think in the past 7 years I've got better at it?) and so when Dad told my brother and I the news I immediately put on my shoes and left the house. I had no idea where I was going and I could barely breathe let alone see through the tears, but I just had to get out. I ended up on a bench in Rouken Glen park and the thought I can remember most clearly was the realisation that my Mum wouldn't be there on my wedding day. 

As the years passed that thought slipped from my mind as no such wedding seemed to be on the cards. Now, of course, that has changed. Almost daily at the moment something wedding/future related makes me wish she was here. The most exciting time of my life has brought with it a resurgence of grief. And the reality is that in the excitement and celebration there is always going to be a part of me that hurts because she isn't here. And I can't ignore it.

Following a walk up at Whitelees Windfarm this afternoon, we stopped in at Whole Foods for a spot of cake. The lid of the little jam pot that came with my scone said "Savour the Moment". The words really hit me. It's something I'm often guilty of forgetting. Sometimes it's because of busyness but sometimes I think it's because of fear that it will hurt too much because if I let the good stuff in, then the hard stuff can get in too. 

And yes, in honesty, there's a lot that feels a bit painful right now. But there is a heck of a lot that I am super excited about and hugely thankful for. Avoiding the pain would mean missing out on the fullness of the good bits. Life is full of great things and hard things but the hard things make the great things all the more great.

I'm going to try harder to savour the moment. The great bits and the hard bits that are all bound up together. All of it. And by doing so I'll be choosing love and gratitude over fear.

 

I think I hate theatre...

I think I hate theatre. That is a kinda problematic conclusion to come to when I am a theatre director and theatre is what I do. But right now, I really think I hate it. I don't hate plays, or telling stories or being told stories, but I think I really do hate this industry called theatre. Should theatre and industry ever be words we place next to each other?

One definition of industry in the Oxford English Dictionary is "hard work", and yes we all know that song in Fame that tells us "Acting is the hardest profession in the world, hard work, the hardest profession is acting" but I just kind of somehow feel that we're making much harder work of it than it ought to be.

The thing I love most about the theatre is that it is a platform on which we can tell stories. I feel so passionately about stories because I think they lie at the heart of what it is to be human. I believe that telling stories is how we express our humanity and it's through stories that we can find meaning in and understanding of the world around us. Stories touch our hearts and have the power to change our minds. Haven't we all been reduced to tears watching a film or felt convicted after reading a book or seeing a play? 

And what I love about plays more than books and films (which I'm also a fan of) is that shared experience of the event, the community that forms as a bunch of (often) strangers join together to share in a story. There is something so beautiful and ancient about that act. But lately I've felt my heart crushed a bit with what I feel theatre has become. So often all of that magic and that purpose feels lost to money and to what the reviewers think. And the thing is I know I'm guilty of it too. I have conditioned my brain to analyse what I see before me and often forget to allow my heart the chance to engage before my brain kicks in. I've got so bogged down in earning a living that I've lost the joy of stories. I've lost the magic of the theatre that pulled me in to this crazy life to begin with. And the thing is without that joy and without that magic the "industry" is brutal - long erratic hours, low and inconsistent pay, and quite often loneliness and isolation from a world that operates on a different schedule. 

Without the joy and magic it is just hard work.

Lately, anytime I log on to twitter I end up just feeling heavy with all the opinions and big voices talking about theatre. Lately, theatre has been making me feel anxious and inadequate. But how can anyone be inadequate when it comes to theatre? Because theatre is about expressing what it is to be human and no one can be any more or any less human than anyone else. Sure some people will be more gifted in how they express it but we all have the capacity to engage in theatre and to be moved by it. 

So I've been doing kind of a lot of soul-searching and praying about what all this means for me in terms of work. I definitely have no answers. But what I think I do know is that I want to facilitate opportunities for people to engage in the business of expressing and exploring our humanity, what it is to be human in this world and above all to create opportunities for people to create and be moved by stories.

It's probably time to unfollow a whole bunch of people on twitter, not because the work they do isn't great or legitimate but because at the moment I need to drown out the loud voices and remember why I chose this path... In fact there's a strong chance I may even need to remember which path it was I chose. I need to get back to the grassroots of what I believe theatre is all about and ultimately rediscover the joy and the magic of a bunch of people coming together to share in a story.

525, 600 minutes

Tomorrow, 4th April, I celebrate being back in Glasgow for one whole year! It is a strange mix of emotions, which I hope to make sense of in this post. In many ways it doesn't seem like a whole year, my London life feels like it was yesterday and I do still feel I could step back into it tomorrow and it would feel like nothing has changed. Yet from this time last year til today everything has changed.

Last year I was feeling pretty hopeless after several failed interviews, and moving back home was, I felt, a last ditch attempt to get my life going again. I remember driving up the road feeling like a weight was lifting and then lying in bed that first night back in Glasgow, with all my things still in boxes wondering if I had made the right decision or if I should pack all my things back in the van and drive back down the road again.

But it has been one heck of a year! So many times God has worked miraculously in my life, from small things like providing me with a ticket to park for a meeting through a complete stranger (or angel?) when I was penniless, to the wonderful way he worked things together so that I could move into the houseshare where I currently live despite it seeming impossible timing. He has consistently provided work for me and despite the figures on paper suggesting it implausible I have never had to miss a months rent.

Yet in spite of all that I have seen God do and provide I still have my weekly (if not daily) battles with doubt over how long I can sustain this kind of work. For every journal entry declaring God's incredible faithfulness there is another filled with anxiety over the future. Just last week God reminded me of the passage in Matthew when Jesus talks about the flowers in the field and challenges us that if that is how God clothes the grass which withers away how much more will he clothe us. The reminder came through a wreckless spray of daffodils by the edge of the motorway, and in this tricky season where I am juggling potential work for the months ahead I am reminded of God's promise several times a day, as I pass yet another spray of daffodils on yet another roadside.

My world has turned upside down in these past twelve months and if I had to give this chapter of my life a title it would probably be something along the lines of "Transition - Changing shape through trusting God in the unknown"

I am, I believe, much more mature in my faith, more grounded in my identity as a child of God and more able to be still and rest in His sovereignty. I think that I am more fully surrendered to His will for my life and strangely in being so I have found that many of the things I would have so desperately clung to He has, in His grace, given me.

It's been a tough couple of years getting to here but God has refined me so much in all the struggle. I wouldn't change any of it. But I'm nowhere near any sort of destination. It's all a journey until the great and glorious day when Jesus returns. Oddly enough I am finishing this post following a bible study on the doctrine of man - basically what it means to be a human living in relationship with God. It feels like a fitting end to the year and almost the summation of my learning over this season. We were created to bring glory to God - that is the very foundation of life. It's summed up rather well in this quote from Tim Keller's Every Good Endeavour:

"If we base our lives on work and achievement, on love and pleasure, or on knowledge and learning, our existence becomes anxious and fragile - because circumstances in life are always threatening the very foundation of our lives, and death inevitably strips us of everything we hold dear. Ecclesiastes is an argument that existential dependence on a gracious Creator God - not only abstract belief - is a precondition for an unshakeable, purposeful life."

So, here, now, on the eve of my back-to-Glasgow anniversary I am praising God for His incredible faithfulness, His grace with my recurring doubt and fear and His unfailing love throughout it all. I am praising God that He knows the end from the beginning, He knows what's best for me and He wrecklessly sprays daffodils all over the place as a constant reminder that He knows our needs and He's got them covered. I'm looking forward to the year ahead - no longer "just moved back" - knowing that all that matters is that I am His and that everything else will fall into place. What a difference a year makes!

And just for fun, here's a whistestop tour through my year:

April 2013:

Arrived back in Glasgow and began working on projects with Platform and Citizens' Theatre

May 2013:

Lots of positive meetings resulting in work. I also directed an extract of new writing at a scratch night at Traverse, Edinburgh

June 2013:

Moved into my first Glasgow flatshare

July 2013:

Spent a weekend camping in a field in Fife with hundreds of young people as part of National Festival of Youth Theatre where I was delivering text masterclasses. I also worked on Summer Academy at Citizens' Theatre on maybe my favourite devised show I've ever worked on

August 2013:

Enjoyed being just 40 miles away from the Edinburgh Fringe instead of 400 and saw lots of theatre as well as hosting some of my London lovelies for a great wee catch up

September 2013:

For the first time since I finished working at Roding Valley (2010) I had work equating to a full time schedule

October 2013:

Took a last minute trip to London for a weekend to catch up with my family and came back recharged and filled afresh with wonder at all God's work in my life. Also, started volunteering at Glasgow City Mission to run a drama group

November 2013:

My class at Scottish Youth Theatre performed as part of Winter Festival

December 2013:

Re:Action Youth Theatre site-specific performance at Callendar House every Sunday up until Christmas, I moved into houseshare by some pretty sweet work of God, and then spent my first Christmas in Glasgow in four years

January 2014:

Met a rather special someone and lost one of my absolute heroes (massively bittersweet month!)

February 2014:

Glasgow City Mission drama group performed their devised piece for a packed and supportive audience

March 2014:

Two primary school productions of Divided City that I have directed involving a total of more than 130 children play to packed audiences

Looking forward to seeing what God has in store for the next 12 months...