I sat in my chair in the audience, waiting to get notes following our run through during that night's rehearsal.

Notes are the standard practice after being on stage. You rehearse on stage, say your lines, concretize your blocking and movements, dive deeper into character -  do your thing, whatever that means.

You pray you don't make a complete jerk of yourself up there and then come the notes. It is the time the Director gives you suggestions, assists in molding your performance so that his or her vision comes to life on stage.

I don't know why I was so happy as I sat waiting for notes, I just was happy.

Close to giddy.

Maybe it is because I adore this character I am playing: the slightly ditzy.. and sometimes much more than slightly ditzy Miss Prism in "The Importance of Being Earnest," a classic play written by Irish Poet and Playwright Oscar Wilde that opens at the Empty Space on November 9.

Maybe it is because I get a kick out of this entire show and each person who is a part of it. I could have been working on my lines when I wasn't on stage and yes, I did that - sometimes, but much of the time I sat and watched, delighting in what was unfolding on stage.

Maybe it is because I was wondering - wondering about what got into my portrayal of Miss Prism, she was so, well? Different tonight. I wondered what new stuff my cast mates would bring, what creative suggestions Director Bob Kempf might bring into the process. I wondered if I might learn any new words.

I learned "sylvan" at our last rehearsal.

I just never know what will happen, except I know I will have an incredible time. I trust the end result will be something that will make me proud - and by then I won't worry about making a complete jerk of myself - unless, ofcourse, it is on purpose.

Maybe that is why I was so happy.

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It was a moment of sincere and rushed “how much can a life suck” confessional.

You have had a moment like this, I am sure. A person asks, “So, how have you been?” 

My unsuspecting new cast mate, someone I had never worked with ever in the past had to boldness to ask me, “How have you been”  in that moment when I decided to be risky and instead of saying “Fine, thanks. You?” I truthfully said,  “Things have been really tough lately, in fact, the past six months have probably been the toughest of my entire life.”

I guess the person asking the next question could be called the responsible party.

I mean, she decided to ask the follow up.

 “Well, what’s been going on?”

I let loose. “Let’s see. Brother died, Mother got Cancer, Son diagnosed with Asperger’s… and then, add on all the complications and grieving from each of those and yeah, that’s it…”

And then there comes the stunned moment. I realized I had let a torrential downpour of my stuff roar about the room amongst people who don’t necessarily know me very well.  The entire room is silent because nobody knows what the hell to say to something like that, so instead I tossed myself the save.

“But it’s ok, because theatre saved me.”

Heads started nodding. “I just kept doing shows. And as long as I was in rehearsal or in production, I had my meditation. Theatre became my meditation, my sanctuary.”

My brother, John, died in the week after our read through for “A Streetcar Named Desire.”  I managed to get through facilitating his Celebration of Life and was at rehearsal that next Monday and muddled through that process and somehow, some way, made it to the other side.

Before I was done with "Streetcar", I had auditioned and been cast in “Troilus and Cressida” and “Song for Vanya” and was in the midst of production for the 20^th Annual One Act Festival at Bakersfield Community Theater.

My Summer “Off” became My Summer “On” – to heal, through collaborative art in my beloved theatre work. I teched a few times for “History of Rock and Roll Goes to the Movies.”  I used my ordination and married a couple local thespians. I went on stage in Los Angeles and rehearsals started for Troilus and Cressida.

“Mom has cancer.” And “Sam has Asperger’s” came as a one-two punch right before “Vanya” opened and right as KSF rehearsals began.

How did I get through it?

Theatre saved me.

I look at the Directors I have worked with during this period as nothing short of divine. How on Earth could they have put up with me? Bob, Hal, Randy... you are some special men, that is for sure.

Grief and loss and the weird, off kilter place I have been wreak havoc on memory and concentration, both of which are required to be on stage. I prayed to the theatre Gods to help me get off book, something which was downright painful for me in the Shakespeare Festival – can anyone say ‘mental blocks’?

One of the sweetest moments of the Summer came when I performed “Drink Your Tea” in rehearsal for the first time after about a week off and my cast mates literally stormed me in the dressing room to give me amazed compliments of how I took on the song with a gusto, bravado and fierce truthfulness they hadn’t seen in me until that moment, when it all clicked into place and once again, Theatre Saved Me.

This weekend the Kern Shakespeare Festival closed and I hung up my costume for the last time.  It was bittersweet to close my locker with my cool sandals and beautiful robes inside.

It marked the end of that beginning.

It was like the gears were shifting on a higher level again.

I turned and headed out of the theatre arts building at Bakersfield College. I bumped into Kim Chin, who started telling me about their upcoming show, “Top Dog, Underdog” (I think I got that title right.)

A bunch of my cast mates were gathered at the bus stop, doing I am not sure what. I stood there for a few moments before rushing to my car. I thought about getting ice cream with everyone else, but I was tired of going by myself.

So for once, I chose something other than ice cream.

Tonight I went to my first blocking rehearsal for “The Importance of Being Earnest.” I am truly, madly, deeply head over heels in love with my wacky character, Miss Prism.  I get to use my British accent, I get to be all googly eyed over a “boy”, I get to hold hands with Sarah Taylor, my buddy from the stoop  in the French Quarter… a “Streetcar” reference. I get to say words I wouldn’t normally say and completely revel in them.

I chose deep, conscious celebration tonight.

Once again, Theatre Saved Me.

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Tonight is dress rehearsal for “Troilus and Cressida,” one of the plays in the Kern Shakespeare Festival. We open Wednesday at Bakersfield College. I am privileged to be making my first ever appearance in a Shakespeare play, portraying Aeneas.

Yesterday I performed in “Song for Vanya”, an adaptation of Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya” at Theatre/Theater in Los Angeles. I have one more performance of that show this Saturday night. I will perform Shakespeare on Friday, also.

I am not sure but I am guessing read through and rehearsal for “The Importance of Being Earnest” will begin sometime next week, in preparation for our November opening at the Empty Space. I will be playing Miss Prism, a character I have fallen in love with, deeply.

“You are so busy!” most people say.

My response, “I am doing what I love. It is what is nourishing me.”

I have had more than my share of “life” these last six months. Theatre has been my ongoing meditation, my stabilizing factor – even within the off-stage drama that seems to unfold there constantly.

Soren Kierkegaard said, “Life has its own hidden forces which you can only discover by living.”

That’s what theatre has been doing for me, these past months, when I have been so quiet and away from here. My hidden forces have been discovered on an even deeper level as I continued to learn, to grow, to study and to simply show up – on time, as prepared as possible, and kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Last night as I drove home after the “Vanya” performance and after sharing dinner with my cast mate Heather and other friends and after we frolicked in the dry river bed playing a favorite game of “Two Truths and a Lie” I felt contentment to a near unfathomable level.

I have never felt such presence during such turmoil.

I am more grateful for the folks I have been working with these past few months than I can put into words.

Probably the best I can do to express my gratitude is to continue living, well, creating art on stage with them and doing the very best I  can each time.