NOVEMBER. What a busy month: putting the class garden to bed, processing the harvest from the summer's sunshine, and readying for the winter
Im really feeling how the seasons and the daylight affect my sense of security and therefore preparedness. I now wake up early in an attempt to savor the sunshine, meditate under the moon, mourn for the things that have turned to dust, and sometimes run to feel my feet on this earth... From flitting between supplimental jobs (whose paychecks I will squirrel away), liana has found joy in playing with friends with and without paws; education in working for the AAPI+ Phila Film scene; and reward from fortifying my theatre ~network~.
Im balancing this work with feelings from witnessing second-hand violence: the killing of civilians in Gaza, the injustice of meat/dairy industry, erasure of history and culture due to gentrification, environmental racism. The rage and dissonance I feel is confusing -- it feels as though my work in a non-profit theatre must continue while my rage is babysat at home; it feels as though the seasonal scarcity a 501c3 feels within the grant cycles, audits, budgets, and etc. valid excuses don't allot for these feelings.
As I'm reframing losses of 2023 into inevitable yet redirect-able and slow-able processes, I want to understand theatre and preparedness. I'm asking: how does theatre prepare for scarcity, how does theatre honor others' scarcities, how do we theatre-makers move through the dissonance of global scarcity?