my freshman year of college I was a musical theatre/dance student at Roosevelt University. It was an incredibly amazing experience for me. my first time away from home. my first time not being a minority as a minority. my first friendships with openly gay humans. my first time learning how to do laundry. my first time going to class in my pajamas. my first time hanging over the roof of the university dangling over Michigan ave. after feeling like I didn't want to be away from my boyfriend and family I went home after only year. but the impact that the one year there in Chicago had....was mighty.
that year in life has been on my mind a lot lately. one particular memory actually.
the basement had small rehearsal rooms. music stands and pianos. and we spent a lot of time down there. craypas and tape cassettes....sheet music and tape recorders....in our jammies and stocking feet. and we sang and cried and laughed and sang some more. those rooms represented a reprieve from the crazy. a sanctuary from judgment and critique....from self doubt and disconnect. in those little rooms I belted out a song in front of other people in an intimate setting for the first time. I talked in silly voices, learned about being fully free and wrote and wrote and wrote. it wasn't just about the space...it was also the choice to venture there....to stop whatever we were doing and run, skip or dance to the basement.
I remember thinking that I was surrounded by such incredibly talented people. and I remember thinking that life would always be like this. grabbing a notebook and writing. finding a quiet place to create. letting all of my sorrow and angst and joy and exhilaration out. sitting with an odd, mismatched yet connected group of people who both understood me and knew nothing about me at the same time.
I've never had that same freedom of creativity since. but i also know that i haven't created the margin for it either.
I have created since then. and although my path led me away from a career in the arts....I minored in musical theatre and dance in college. i taught dance class to littles for a brief season when my own kids were young. i have written for pleasure off and on over the years. and of course, i love singing and have irritated many a co-worker with that over the years.
other things have taken priority in my life. marriage, children, ministry, mental health needs, work....and while I've attempted to keep creativity in my world through leading worship at church....writing from time to time...singing when i get the chance....there's always been this missing piece. this difficulty focusing. the inability to still see myself as a creative, artistic person.
the basement. or at least what the basement represented. is missing.
as i write this....I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to do with this epiphany.
but i would encourage you not to lose your basement.
and i believe that i need to find my basement. whatever that is, that can give me what the basement at HCC did. freedom and space. time and devotion. confidence and ability. a reprieve from the crazy.
all of the sorrow and angst and joy and exhilaration is ready to pour out.
No comments:
Post a Comment