brief & total beauty

“Whatever it is 

that pulls the pin, 

that hurls you past 

the boundaries of your own life 

into a brief and total beauty, 

even for a moment, 

it is enough.” 

  [Jeanette Winterson]

 

 

Actor Family adventures continue! Hubby got called in to do some voice work for an audio book, and took the kiddo with him. While Dad acted in the booth, baby slept in the director's arms (her comment on the whole situation? "I'm in love.") I booked my first postpartum gig thanks to my AWESOME BABY, who was the only person I was able to practice my monologue on before the audition. (P.S: Baby-talk Bard is apparently one of little dude's favorite things.) Friday is the only day when hubby & I work at the same time, so baby came with me to teach film seminars this past Friday. He made an excellent assistant, hanging out in my arms or those of an excited student. It was oddly satisfying, feeding my son a bottle while giving acting notes. :)

 

I am really here today, though, to talk about a moment of transcendence. ("Whatever it is that pulls the pin, that hurls you past the boundaries of your own life....") 

 

Hubby and I were invited to a Hootenanny Retreat this past weekend. What on earth does that amazing-sounding event consist of, you might ask? WELL. I can't speak for other hootenanny retreats of the world:), but this particular one was the gathering of a brave and joy-filled band of theatre artists to a horse farm an hour outside the city, to workshop new pieces of theatre between cook-outs, jam sessions and dips in the pool. 

 

Read: HEAVEN.

 

We were graciously invited to bring the young'un, but since he can't quiiiite watch himself yet (2-month-olds. Yeesh.), having him there meant that one of us had to not participate as much. Musicians were needed and hubby plays guitar while I can't even figure out a kazoo half the time (humming is hard, man), so that decided it. Baby and I would be groupies/audience.

 

What with our work schedules, we could only come up for one day of the weekend, so we were asked to be part of a bluegrass Shakespeare adaptation. I was actually given a song to sing at the end of the piece...the thought being that hubby would be done with his part, and could take baby from me so's I could croon for a few minutes.

 

I tried to put my little boy in our baby carrier, but he only lasted about an hour before it made him suddenly sad. (2-month-olds. Yeesh.) So, I spent the bulk of 9 hours holding my son in my arms. I held him on the outskirts of the rehearsal...I held him during the cook-out...I held him during the presentation that evening. And you know? I did not mind the holding at all. My arms even held out! But I will not say the day was easy. Especially during rehearsal, any time he threatened to cry, my heart would race as I searched for what would keep him calm and happy. And I still sometimes feel awkward with the little guy in public...like people are watching me (even people I know and love!) thinking, "Ohhh my goodness, what is she doing??" So, I actually spent a lot of Heavenly Hootenanny Retreat being a bit stressed....

 

Then came the presentation. We gathered with a small invited audience (they poured each other glasses of wine around citronella candles as a storm approached, moving us indoors after scene 1). Actors sat in wooden chairs or rocking chairs, hopping up for scenes. I opted to stand tucked away in a corner, in case baby needed bouncing/soothing. The "show" was totally delightful--a great cast, a great concept, with sudden bursts of boisterous bluegrass--and my son slept or quietly hung out in my arms for the whole thing. Along with my finale song, I was asked to cold read any little part that hadn't been given out. Baby was an especial champ when it turned out that I had to play two such characters in a fight with each other on one page...until the next page when a THIRD character of mine entered the scene! He chilled there while Mommy bopped up and down and played with various excitable intonations:). Not a peep from this guy!

 

The play ended, and the idea was that before the audience could clap, I would hand baby to hubs,  make my way to a rocking chair and sing the final song:

 

 

...did you listen to the song?? It is GORGEOUS. I was thrilled beyond belief to get to sing it. And *honored!* I learned it with baby during the week. 

 

So the play ends, and I can't make it out of my corner before the little audience begins clapping. And I can't figure out how to make it to a rocking chair and explain to the actor sitting in it that I need it (I had worked this part out with an actor earlier, but it was before we moved indoors, and now different actors were occupying the rocking chairs), and I felt really compelled to keep hold of my little boy, so...the clapping died down and I was standing in the middle of the actor semi-circle and I began to sing. To my son, to myself. He started squirming a bit at first but I managed to give him a pacifier while singing and he immediately calmed. I don't remember much after that. I don't even remember the guitars coming in after my first verse, which I knew they would.... I remember swaying, and the pounding of my heart (singing still scares the bejeesus outta me, though I love it), and the feel of my child. I remember quiet. 

 

The photo toward the top of this page is me and my son, about an hour and a half before everything fell away. And there, with my husband somewhere behind me, I had EVERYTHING.