Okay, I'm posting twice in one day.
There's a fire in the fireplace. It's been burning all day long. See, our propane pilot light is not lit, and therefore we don't have any heat in our heater. But we have this amazing fireplace that heats the entire house. So we have had the fire burning night and day. It puts out the toastiest heat, it just makes you want to curl up on the couch and hug a dog. Which I've been doing all day.
The show is going great, the actors fantastic. They know the show and are doing it so well. This means that I can be at home. When I'm directing, I have to be down in town, but when I'm not: I get to be HOME!! So, it's been a week but now here we are. Both dogs are so grateful to be up here. They are asleep on their respective beds. Uli is lounging across hers. She is on the Dillon Dog Bed of Honor. Dillon always slept in his favorite spot in the house, his dog bed (usually in some various state of having been chewed but loved) which always laid in front of the fireplace, nice and toasty. This is where he passed away last year, resting on his bed until his last moments. So this spot is the Dillon Dog Bed of Honor, and Uli has claimed it tonight. Devan is zonked out thoroughly on her bed on the other side of the room. She had a good day of crow chasing and sleeping and she is celebrating by snoring and dreaming of what she'll do tomorrow. I can tell this by the slight twitching of her paws as she dream-runs after her nemisis crows that taunt her from the power poles.
It's a great day today. Cold and crisp. The sky is cloudy and if it were colder, looks to me as if it would snow. The trees are now bare and winter is here. There are so many woodpeckers at the house lately. I think that perhaps they have lost their homes from the fires, and are congregating here on Iron Springs Ranch. They are beautiful with their bright red heads and their Woody namesake attitude. Going to fill the feeders tomorrow, so they have something to peck at. One must stay busy, even if you're a woodpecker.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Watching It's A Wonderful Life
Our theatre is presenting a 1940's radio version of the movie, It's A Wonderful Life. We all know the movie. I remember the first time I saw the movie. In the olden days, before you could buy the video or dvd or see a movie on television, one of the ways to see an old classic was to catch it at a movie theatre that showed revivals. In San Diego when I was a kid, this theatre was the Ken Cinema in Kensington.
I was a freshman at San Diego State University at the time, and my best friend, Russell and I decided to go see It's a Wonderful Life at Christmas time. Neither of us had actually heard of it before, believe it or not. This was well before the Wonderful Life TV blitz when you could not turn on the TV without seeing it on every channel. So, for me and Russell, this was a new movie.
Here's what I remember: being so totally swept up in the film and all of those beautiful citizens of Bedford Falls that I actually forgot I was at a theatre watching a movie. The people around me disappeared. Russell disappeared. My popcorn disappeared. We had no idea that there was going to be an angel and a redemption of the average man. The existential journey of George Bailey took me totally by surprise. By the time the friends came pouring in, I was as devasted as I had ever been. Total tears. No, not tears. Sobs. Aching, side holding sobbing. The theatre's house lights came up and I was jolted back to my own reality: I was not there in the Bailey living room celebrating lfe and family, but sitting in one of the Ken's famously uncomfortable seats, sobbing and gulping and blinking tears out my dazed eyes. Okay, I was eighteen. I had not had a lot of experiences yet. It's kind of sweet in retrospect.
I turned around realizing where I was, and Russell, who was sitting next to me was far worse than me! Whereas I had started to come back to earth, he was inconsolable. He couldn't get up. He was crying to hard, that we had to wait until the theatre emptied before we could leave. Only now, we are laughing through our crying because we begin to realize that it was, after all, just a movie, you know?
I STILL cry at that movie. The tears seem to come at different things as i get older and life's journey becomes more clear, if it ever actually does become clear. I'll let you know when I get closer towards the curtain call.
In the meantime, the story stirs up thoughts about life choices, career paths, how the smallest connection can be a turning point without your even knowing it. It raises questions about whether we're following a predestined path, or are we wandering blindly forward. Are all of those small turning points lined up for us, or do we change the predestined path everytime we make a choice between two things? Are there infinite predetermined life paths, each completely valid?
The movie makes me cry because it validates all of our choices as long as we recognize the rich value of each person in our life and their contribution to what we are. But it also validates our power over other lives as our contacts with them change their lives too. All of this is so kharmic, isn't it? It just celebrates how interconnected we are all, and that we are not alone in this world. We are surrounded by what we create, so create something you can be proud of.
I didn't mean to get so... blah blah blah with this. I was going to write about working on the story as a play and working with wonderful actors to get all of these feelings to happen live on stage. I never tire of the show, I love to watch the actors take the journey every time they do it. It starts as such a sweet show with it's soda fountains, snow sledding, and its dreams. The darker questions of the story just seems to come up from behind and without realizing it we are suddenly addressing the horrifying notion of non-existence. To be a complete void. No mother. No family. No identity. The actor playing George takes this journey with his whole body and soul every night! I admire him so much for the depth of emotio that he shares in telling George Bailey's story.
It's a beautiful story to touch every now and then. It's a great signpost and reminder to us to remember that our every tiny choice has consequences for us all. It is a wonderful life.
I was a freshman at San Diego State University at the time, and my best friend, Russell and I decided to go see It's a Wonderful Life at Christmas time. Neither of us had actually heard of it before, believe it or not. This was well before the Wonderful Life TV blitz when you could not turn on the TV without seeing it on every channel. So, for me and Russell, this was a new movie.
Here's what I remember: being so totally swept up in the film and all of those beautiful citizens of Bedford Falls that I actually forgot I was at a theatre watching a movie. The people around me disappeared. Russell disappeared. My popcorn disappeared. We had no idea that there was going to be an angel and a redemption of the average man. The existential journey of George Bailey took me totally by surprise. By the time the friends came pouring in, I was as devasted as I had ever been. Total tears. No, not tears. Sobs. Aching, side holding sobbing. The theatre's house lights came up and I was jolted back to my own reality: I was not there in the Bailey living room celebrating lfe and family, but sitting in one of the Ken's famously uncomfortable seats, sobbing and gulping and blinking tears out my dazed eyes. Okay, I was eighteen. I had not had a lot of experiences yet. It's kind of sweet in retrospect.
I turned around realizing where I was, and Russell, who was sitting next to me was far worse than me! Whereas I had started to come back to earth, he was inconsolable. He couldn't get up. He was crying to hard, that we had to wait until the theatre emptied before we could leave. Only now, we are laughing through our crying because we begin to realize that it was, after all, just a movie, you know?
I STILL cry at that movie. The tears seem to come at different things as i get older and life's journey becomes more clear, if it ever actually does become clear. I'll let you know when I get closer towards the curtain call.
In the meantime, the story stirs up thoughts about life choices, career paths, how the smallest connection can be a turning point without your even knowing it. It raises questions about whether we're following a predestined path, or are we wandering blindly forward. Are all of those small turning points lined up for us, or do we change the predestined path everytime we make a choice between two things? Are there infinite predetermined life paths, each completely valid?
The movie makes me cry because it validates all of our choices as long as we recognize the rich value of each person in our life and their contribution to what we are. But it also validates our power over other lives as our contacts with them change their lives too. All of this is so kharmic, isn't it? It just celebrates how interconnected we are all, and that we are not alone in this world. We are surrounded by what we create, so create something you can be proud of.
I didn't mean to get so... blah blah blah with this. I was going to write about working on the story as a play and working with wonderful actors to get all of these feelings to happen live on stage. I never tire of the show, I love to watch the actors take the journey every time they do it. It starts as such a sweet show with it's soda fountains, snow sledding, and its dreams. The darker questions of the story just seems to come up from behind and without realizing it we are suddenly addressing the horrifying notion of non-existence. To be a complete void. No mother. No family. No identity. The actor playing George takes this journey with his whole body and soul every night! I admire him so much for the depth of emotio that he shares in telling George Bailey's story.
It's a beautiful story to touch every now and then. It's a great signpost and reminder to us to remember that our every tiny choice has consequences for us all. It is a wonderful life.
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