Do be do be do be do.

Continually, teaching language brings me back to theatre.

Let’s learn the verb “to be.” “Be” is what we call a “stative” verb. Stative verbs are the opposite of action verbs, and that means they describe things that “are,” rather than things we do. As an English student, you need to know the stative verbs because you can’t use them in the progressive form (the one we use to say what is happening right now) the way you can for action verbs. For example, you can say “I am running” but you can’t say “I am having a car” because “to have” is a state. You can’t choose it (you can choose to try to get, but you can’t choose to have.) You have it or you don’t.

Sometimes we use “be” in the –ing form. Like “stop being stupid, Yoon.” But it’s understood from the form that Yoon is choosing to be stupid. If she simply were stupid, we wouldn’t ask her to stop.

Some actors use be in the –ing form, “I am being a king,” “I am being angry,” but in theatre we understand that that’s not ideal. So we instruct actors not to “be” but to “do.” We understand that the nature of “be” is that it isn’t chosen, so we ask “what are you doing?” A beat is about completing an action, not “being” a thing or feeling.
All of this grammar and theatre nerdery matters for the only reason that anything matters- these approaches point to truth. When I accuse Yoon of being stupid, I am accusing her of not being true to her nature and capacity. When an actor is “being happy,” she is not delivering a truthful performance. And truthfully, in life we cannot choose to be, only to do.

On Shit

One of my favorite playwrights in Philly, and someone whose work and ideas I admire a lot recently presented a play which ended with a character throwing a bucket of shit on the audience.

I'm not sure what to feel about the play itself, but I can say with certainty that throwing a bucket of shit on the audience is the exact and polar opposite of anything I ever want to do.

Doesn't the audience get a bucket of shit thrown on them enough? Just kidding. But actually not just kidding.

Why do we do this?

"Hold a mirror up to the audience,""Force people out of their complacency" these phrases and their most misused cousin "tell the truth" come up a lot in our discussion of our role as artists.

I know that I am not qualified to do these things, and I don't like being theatred at by people who think they are. As a person who lives it, I can report that life is scary and difficult, and that holding a mirror up to yourself is one of the scariest and most difficult things you can do in it. That's the *truth.* To hold an audience captive, and then try to force that mirror in their faces would border on violence if it were ever successful. Thankfully it's not. Mostly audiences just leave with the vague notion of having been mean spiritedly patronized. You're welcome.

Telling the truth is an act of humility. Otherwise, it's a lie going around with a pious name. That's my least favorite kind of lie because it diminishes people's capacity to offer or receive any actual honesty.

We call that part of the theater "the house." Don't invite someone into your house because you think they need to be taught something about themselves by you. Would you like that? Would you go there a second time ?

Eat! Pray! Love! Hide it under Ulysses!

You know what, I'm just going to say it. I read Eat, Pray, Love. Twice. And I liked it both times.

And then, last night, I went with two beautiful redheads to the Ethical Culture Society to listen to Elizabeth Gilbert, who wrote it, speak. Yeah. That's right.

Usually I don't like being counted among groups of women. The more they all look like me, the more I hate it and the more I want to get a tattoo on my face. Two women who run a gourmet chocolate company were at this event, giving free samples. I wish they didn't but they knew their audience. That chocolate was good.

Either this was an unusual event or I'm calming down with age, because rather than trying to re-imagine myself into a person too unique to enjoy a pop culture phenomenon for ladies, I felt kind of relieved. I'm relieved that an Ethical Culture society building full of women responded to that story the same way I did. For once, I'd rather not be alone.

Right before the event, Rachel leaned over and whispered "this is going to ruin the book." And then a miraculous thing happened. It' didn't. Elizabeth Gilbert appears to be a flawed person with a tremendous amount of grace. She had about ten years on most of the audience, and we clearly, really needed an auntie. As she talked about failing and getting confused and making lists and feeling shitty, I could feel a collective sigh of not insignificant relief.

It was nice.

I lied to my friends

When I used to be kind of in this Buddhist cult, we would say a prayer that goes like:

"For the first time I'm glad about the Buddha, for the first time I'm glad about the Dharma, for the first time, I'm glad about the Sangha. For the second time, I'm glad about the Buddha, for the second time..." etc.

Anyway. I'm glad about the Sangha. Which is "the community." In the cult, this meant all the other cult people. Really, though, I need help. Life is too hard to navigate and to map and signpost and to travel down the road of. And I can't do it by myself. That's the real reason I wanted to meet you guys for dinner and talk about what we're going to do.

For the millionth time, I'm glad about the Sangha.