The Reluctant Writer

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages.

      –William Shakespeare

If life is really a play, then which act and am I in now and which part am I playing? Better yet, what parts are others playing?

I heard someone say once that each person has the starring role in the play of his or her life. I’m the star of my own life; you’re the star of yours. Remembering that makes regarding others in my life ever more interesting. I wonder sometimes how much typecasting have I done in choosing my friends. I also wonder who has cleverly written themselves into my script, and what might other see while observing my play.

Theatre has the capacity to teach us, and to transform and ultimately transcend our mundane daily lives. The most impactful play I was ever in was “Playing for Time” by Arthur Miller. The play is about the women’s orchestra that played at Auschwitz during WWII. The musicians survived by playing for the notorious Nazi leader Doctor Mengele, who adored certain classical music. The play depicts the cruelty and death of Auschwitz, but also contained some lovely music.  I played the part of Lisle and played the clarinet as part of the orchestra.

The play is extraordinary in its depiction of life for those women, but much of the transformation for me happened in the warm up exercises we did as a cast. Because the cast prisoners had to portray being beaten, and the cast guards had to portray beating them, we practiced stage techniques to prevent injury. The sticks were padded and no one was ever hurt, but we had to learn to trust each other to make sure it stayed that way. We developed a high level of respect along with the trust in each other. We also relished the parts of the play that depicted the victory of compassion.

One of the exercises we did was to play a scene with prisoners and guards mingling and in character. We felt the emotions of fear and hatred fill the stage. We began to understand our own parts – prisoners with the terrified understanding that they were hated without knowing why – the guards hating the vermin prisoners, but without a basis for it other than what they’d been told.

Then we switched parts.  It was disturbingly easy.

That’s when we all began to understand how easy it is to hate without reason; to want to rid the world of an imagined menace; to become irrationally cruel upon command. And we began to see the overwhelming fear from both sides of the scene.

As a cast we began to have compassion for both prisoners and guards. We began to understand how easy it is to slip into bigotry and cruelty reserved for monsters. We began to see our own shadow side and claim it for our own, but with the compassion and tenderness of expanded perspective.

Through the exercises, the directors brought us to greater understanding of our own selves in relation to all humanity, not just the play. It was masterful. Being a cast member in “Playing for Time” changed me forever. I played one of the three surviving members of the orchestra depicted in the last scene. Just re-reading some of the script today brought tears to my eyes in remembering the lessons and the people I encountered onstage.

In my own life, I have to determine who I will allow to direct me and how. Ultimately I direct myself, but others play their parts: co-director, stage managers, costumers, music, lights . . . more than fellow cast members. This play is open ended and will continue long after I exist stage left. 

For now I try to accept that other actors enter into my play as they are, and that they are the lead in their own play. My part in their play could be major or just a bit part. I have fired some actors from my play and have been fired from other’s plays. How I research and develop my character and interact with other actors in this act is a decision I make every day, whether I’m aware of it or not.

And every now and again I hope someone throws roses.