[paint me a picture of perfection]

There are moments in life when you can stand outside of yourself and simply observe. You can vacate your body for an instant and get a new perspective on reality. I had one of those moments this week. I am in a production for the Strawberry One Act Festival called Salamander Stew, and the experience thus far has been one of the most unique and beautiful I've ever known. The play was written in 1973 by the father of one of the directors while he was a student at Columbia University. The directors themselves are pretty fascinating people, and when you combine that with a cast of passionate, existentially hungry, 20-somethings, you find yourself in a world of experimentation, support, and risk. The callback process alone created the existence of a "safe space," and the rehearsal process has only increased that feeling. It is a movement based piece with poetic language; it is a dark tale of love, loss, suicide, drugs, and hallucination. Each rehearsal is four hours of dance, challenge, fight, failure, success, struggle, laughter, tears, and discovery. My soul is being fed with the raw beauty of art, and I am loving every moment.

My "out of body" moment came on Tuesday night, when I was sitting against the wall watching one of the groups perform a movement task. I was sweaty and exhausted, leaning against the mirrors in a rehearsal studio on 54th and Broadway. My eyes moved for a moment from the performers to the windows in front of me. Through the windows was a view of the tall buildings of New York City, lit by streetlights and a wintery haze, and in that moment I saw myself sitting there, part of a group of people with talent and determination, in the middle of Manhattan, and I nearly started crying. These are moments when I know that this is who I am supposed to be, moments when I experience true passion. No matter how tired I am, no matter how big or small the project, I love this. My body forgets its exhaustion. It forgets that I need to get up at 4am every day for work. I am simply in the moment, soaking up everything around me, as if this particular night is the only thing going on in my life. At this point, I am still an unpaid artist, scraping by with a full-time job that does not connect to my love of theatre and music (although at least it carries some creative interest of mine), living day to day in a city of millions. I have no idea where my life will go from here, but I do know that I am content when doing anything of artistic value. And I get to do it in New York City...no matter what happens, I have this right now, and that feeling is indescribable.

I am so happy that I can find joy in the little things, in the tiny perfections that are often overlooked. This trait can make me seem a little naive at times, and perhaps I am a bit naive, but I am delighted to be so. It only makes me a more joyful and satisfied human being, and I would not want to experience life any other way.

[amanda]