more reflection(s) . . . 

last week i spent six days in a tech booth in a place with which i used to be intimately familiar working with someone that influenced how i saw light in the world & truthfully, a human being i admired then (& still do admire)

spending that much time in a place i basically once called home, my daughters came there when they were younger doing homework mingling with the staff i think my youngest once even emptied the trash at some point

i remember setting up the video projector once when i had them to play lion king in the theater – it was an amazing moment . . . hakuna mattata playing through the sound system both of them watching this movie in an empty theater running around all of us dancing on the stage

that memory combined with copious others – talking through a long lunch with jennifer tipton about scroller colors & how they should be arranged & why they must contain a variety of colors from all vendors (at the time); impressing brian macdevitt with my obsession programming skills & chatting earnestly about a career as a programmer; meeting michael stiller; meeting internationally renown designers of all types & learning; buying one sheet of gel from every manufacturer, cutting them up & putting them into a light, turning that gelled light on & just looking at color in a blank black space; going through each diffusion & frost learning exactly what it did; conversing with don holder about purchasing moving lights for a performance venue; dropping by a co-worker’s second job just to say hello; shaping the career path(s) of intern(s); making connections then that would not last . . . beginning & ending a kind of life that i no longer have & may actually have lost the desire to maintain . . . so much

dominoes !!

andrea woods & company !!

ellis wood !!

a cage of blue light !!

spice lunch deliveries

the blue bomber

that laugh that would rise from one cubicle & fill the office air

that fresh tracks show with a college associate – the kind review in the times . . . so many memories

cake

strange to be sitting now in barclay’s center preparing for an event that i would have never imagined myself capable of doing then – looking back over a career that has literally taken me all over the planet – through every aspect of my field (events, plays, dances, weddings, mitzvahs, film, presidential debates & fundraisers, designing lighting systems for churches & schools, the olympics, hell – even designing one moving light per shoe for an event for converse . . . wide wide wide experiences – each with their own worth

but that place on west nineteenth street between seventh & eighth in chelsea – that place in many ways was / is “home” . . . it was difficult being there . . . looking at that stage, standing in that spot where he said i let him down, or that spot where she said, something else must be done, or that time i called the blackout 90sec too soon & she was dancing in the dark, or that time i couldn’t find my daughter & she was sleeping under my desk, or that time we all went up to the roof & watched manhattan be manhattan & talked for hours – or, or, or . . . so many – too many

those memories – the way they resurfacced the way they were tangible had a weight had a smell had validity shocked me . . . i remembered crying in the staff stairwell when my uncle died . . . i remember bringing up that black couch . . . i remember a chain gang of employees chucking lights down three stories & her saying, i pushed three children out of my vagina this is nothing! . . . the strength of echoes overwhelmed me . . . is still resonating

it may have awakened a desire to design lighting in that field again – opened my heart a little – softened me in a way i have not been softened since the seperation & eventual divorce; since i climbed down into the cave with my own self-pity, regret, self-doubt & destructive patterns making my own personal gollum, burning bridges – almost all of them (even internal ones between parts of my self i once cherished)

i am not sure what will come from this experience of returning “home” but i do know that i am grateful for it . . .

quite

& i want to thank pws for the opportunity to return – he said, doing this show renewed him & it may, in deed. have renewed me

thank you – i did not know i needed it . . . did not know i had a “home” that i lost . . . did not know i could “return”

bored at the board / reflecting . . . 

here’s what i remember . . .

i have always been a rather solitary human preferring my own company to that of others or even an other – to the great discomfort of those that sought deeper connection to me

i have always been a distance maker – i left home early (sixteen or seventeen – couch hopping from friend’s place to friend’s place – sofa to sofa – even stayed at the congress inn off of highway70 across from northwest plaza for a while – paying a weekly fee i think – to be on my own . . . on my terms (to the degree that dependent independence was independence)

i have always been alone – even the primary work i do (lighting programmer) is me behind a board – alone (oft-times talking to the board) – making something for someone else to enjoy

here’s what i remember . . . at a very young age i tired of my own mind – grew fatigued with the self imposed exile . . . make no mistake i was out & about being young but that was not what i wanted . . . i went “home” alone & was (oft-times) lonely – not solitary which is an other thing entirely

i never matured to a place of acceptance – to an appreciation of the difference & similarities bewteen solitude & loneliness

i jumped right in to what eventually became an eighteen year long relationship which produced two beautiful humans all of whom – at some point – i abandoned . . . i created the distance i am so comfortable in (i toured nationally & internationally; i went away for long periods of time to work; to just be away; so many things)

here’s what i remember – saying good-bye & not knowing hello again would be so difficult that time would shape the chasm that distance would elongate absence’s shade into shadow that age would erode scabs into scars & those scars in time would fade into just skin without an interesting story

here’s what i know . . . i am older now (never thought i’d make it to forty-six – my parents would forecast my future from early teens onward as doomed to jail – i was a pain in the ass then & that has not changed)

age for me sprinkled my hair with grey & in some places silver some places white & oddly some places red . . . plus the damned hair on my ears (argh – age)

age has also shifted my perceptions, shaped my expectations & transformed my being in an unforeseen way i am only now coming to appreciate

i will never understand the choices i made then – now . . . never

i am however exhausted from the weight of grief, mourning & regret

the hardest thing for me has been learning how to hold what should be held & release what needs to be released . . .

it is strange to have a place that seems to offer some community but is, in fact, me alone – still

there is comfort in this – however trite – here, alone i have one thing with which i started this adventure . . . writing

after all this time to discover i never knew anything at all . . . that this is just a journey & i fell (many times) en route to this moment now (holding this phone in my hands – typing with my thumbs)

strange . . .