Yet Untitled
I once had a brilliant writer/director friend of mine tell me he had written a role for me in his new play. I was honoured. The role was fiery and mined such wonderful complexity. I couldn’t wait to investigate it. I was asked to help develop the play further in a workshop production. At several points, during this workshop, he said to me, “Alix, I just want you to be yourself, this character is exactly like you, that’s why I cast you in this reading. I wrote the play for you”.
A bit of a back and forth ensued:
“You mean, sorry. What?”
“Be you.”
“You mean, be honest?”
“No, be you.”
“You mean stop playing a character and just play the given circumstances?”
“No, you’re already playing the given circumstances, just be you.”
"I’m sorry, what part of me do you want me to be? Oh, do you mean stop acting and drop in?"
‘No, no! Just be you. I wrote the play with YOU in mind. Just. Be. You.”
I remember blinking a few times. Which me was he referring to?
I mean, it’s a daily practice being … me. I’m not trying to be clever here.
I am a multi-faceted, prismatic being steeped in an ever-evolving understanding of myself and the world. I cha cha between empowerment and terror, learning and imprint, vulnerability and good old-fashioned bullshit. I have been different me’s at different times. Sometimes, simply because I’m alive and that comes with iterative identities but also … c’mon, survival.
It takes everything in my being not to shape-shift for you. My adjustments whisper they’ll be gossamer thin, but still, I betray myself time and time again in the name of this belonging. Curation is attractive as fuck. We’re all in a state of hyper-vigilance.
My heart does break when human beings refer to themselves as brands. And still, I’d be lying if I said I never curate myself. I let you see what I decide feels safe for me to reveal. I check myself if I see I've slipped into sales-pitch mode on social media, nonetheless, I’ve deleted posts I’ve sometimes felt super-vulnerable about for fear that someone might change their mind about me or worse yet, didn’t find what I had to say interesting enough to give it a frigging like. I’m a work in progress. With noblest intent.
Here’s my wish this Sturgeon full moon. Wouldn't it be really something if we all felt safe enough to come out to one another on the daily? To say hi, this is me at the moment. And I am a fluid entity so all learning is welcome and also please acknowledge its vulnerability. And I commit to the challenging work of heart-centred reparation if/when things bump into your truths. That our gossamer half-truths may turn into full-blown opportunities for deep listening, learning, and authentic connection.
This I howl in full-blown witchy authenticity.
In case you’re wondering, I wasn’t cast when my friend's play went into production. I suppose he never felt I could never quite master who he thought I was.