This morning, I’m walking along the seaside, and I’m startled by a woman who starts shrieking at the world. Yesterday, I watched a video about Alonzo King who spoke of daring to dance the ugly. And I realized that in committing to this project there were places I would need to go, ask my actresses to venture, that were not for the meek and timid.
I stood at the water and opened the door just a little and saw…
These places are the true dark lands. They are the lands of rage, and fury and hatred. They are the places where we will finally give vent to the hugeness of:
What has been done to us,
Ripped and stolen from us,
Trampled and lost to us.
They are the reason we eat too much, drink too much, fuck too much, work too much, cut…
They are the reason we will do anything and everything to skirt the whirlpool, numb the pain, avoid these all consuming, rip us apart, dark primal feelings. We sit on top of a great volcano and wear the mask that all is well, all is fine, we are doing great.
But what if we gave in, let go, delved into the depths and murky mud of these feelings? What if we opened the door and let it roll over us?
I believe that if we finally gave in to the great rising scream that is all of THIS, we would possibly find freedom.
Freedom to stop pretending. Freedom to acknowledge the full depth of what happened. Freedom to forgive ourselves for believing we were in any way to blame.
I do not profess to think that it is the answer to all the healing. But I believe it is a place we must venture – not to linger – but to acknowledge. I believe it is a place where we must look in the mirror and see the truth.
That even in the great rending of our souls we are still whole, we are still beautiful.
I finished my walk this morning, breathing in and strangely grateful. This journey, though terrifying is also an exorcism: purging, purifying and true.