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Meltdown on the Mountain—It’s the getting back up that counts (with a little help from our friends).
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Building a theatre company isn’t easy. There are many long roads, hurdles, and often
mountains to climb. There are fears and doubts. There are big leaps. There are
setbacks. Sometimes it even seems that it would make more sense to just not do
it. It would be easier, safer, simpler. But, then, miraculously we get back up.
We leap. We dive. We push through. Somehow we find strength in each other, in
our dreams—and in you, our supporters. Not really sure how exactly it happens,
but it does—and we thank you for it.
This past week, I went skiing for the first time EVER. And,
needless to say, it proved to be more than just a skiing trip. I think I
discovered myself and perhaps even conquered myself up on that stupid not-so-easy "Easy Street" course—with a little help from my friends. The leading up to
it was fine, I guess. I would mention what I was doing for Spring Break, look around with saucer eyes for any sort of insight (people didn't realize that I
was really looking for magical ANSWERS!) and mostly it was the same: people
giving me advice, saying "you’ll be fine!" and telling me "just keep your skis in 'pizza.'" Telling me what boots or pants or jacket I needed. And of course I
just said, "Okay!" because really, I had no idea about any of it. I had no
context (except what I've seen on TV, and those people aren't doing 'pizza,' I
don’t think. These "bits of advice," however, could IN NO WAY prepare me for
what I was about to do. I suppose "keep it in pizza" was something I used the
most! But, seriously, folks—almost 40 and first time skiing?? This brain and
body are a bit different than my 5-year-old nephew who literally got to the top
of the mountain and just went. No pausing. No questions. He just went. And
survived. And went back for more. There is a lesson in that, I’m sure! But, my journey was a bit more…um… involved.
So, first things first, I got my outfit—I looked like I knew
what I was doing (that’s half the battle, right?!). The next morning, we started
our road trip to Vermont. We got to the lodge after our gorgeous drive and met
up with family. We were staying in the Trapp Family Lodges in Stowe, VT. Over
dinner, there was discussion about the snow and the slopes and "Stay on the
bunny..." "Okay," I said. Next morning—got dressed, good breakfast, and off we
went! Another gorgeous, peaceful drive to the slopes. After getting all set up
and looking around I thought, "I can do this!" Then off to lessons. We started
slowly. Scooting along, learning about weight, etc. We learned how to get on
the lift (much appreciated!), and then got to the top of the bunny slope. I
honestly don’t remember my first time down. I was just following. Just trying
to stay up. And I was doing great! We did this several more times until the
class was over. Success!! I was able to do this! I only fell a couple of times
(trying not to run into children—a very smart objective, I thought!). But I was
good! We then had lunch, and back to the 1pm lesson: Intro to Turning. We
graduated to "Easy Street." However, Easy Street wasn’t so easy. Anyway, it
was fine, really—at first. With my class, I was able to follow my teacher and
my other classmates. I fell mostly every time going down, but I learned how to
get up. In fact, I got really good at that. (Maybe that’s the moral to the
story, really?!) Up and down. Falling, yes, but getting back up! Had a great
afternoon, evening of rest—muscles very sore. Jud said that I’d probably wake
up tomorrow and think, "I don’t want to go, I’m too sore" (he was right), but, "getting up and going is key!"
Next morning, VERY sore. Could hardly walk. But, was
determined to push through. Stretched out. Got dressed. Good breakfast. Nice
drive there, but this day…this day was different. I had a feeling in my
stomach. Of dread. The day before, I knew nothing. But today, today I knew what
was about to happen. And I, in no way, trusted myself. But, on we went. ‘Easy
Street’, here we come! Lift was good. I was a pro at this! Got to the top--the
top of the mountain that I had skied many times the day before. Turned the
corner, looked down. And FROZE. My legs had no idea of what to do. People
zooming past but I froze. And then I started crying. The meltdown on the
mountain had begun. I tried to move, scooted a bit. But just couldn't go. Or let go. Isn't interesting how just a
little bit of knowledge will keep you stuck in one place? Anyway, I tried to
follow Jud, but just couldn’t go. I cried, I yelled at him for bringing me up
there, I started scooting down on my bottom—but that wasn't really working. The
people on the lifts got a lift and a show! And I didn't care. I was going to
die on that mountain (it was a very dramatic moment). I had to keep taking my
goggles off because they were fogging up from crying. I tried getting up and
kept falling over and then no energy to get back up because I was crying—I
mean, sobbing. It was quite a sight, I'm sure. Jud standing there, all the
while, trying to give me pointers. I certainly didn't want to listen. But he
stayed. And then, after probably 20 minutes or so of this, I'm not sure what
happened—something in me? Something in
the fact that he was still there?
Something in the knowledge that I had to get down? Something in the
knowledge that I did it just the day before? I don't know. But I stood up, had
a moment with myself, looked straight ahead, and went forward a bit. I stopped.
Then turned a bit, went the other way. The next thing I knew I was traversing
down the mountain—slowly, but I was going. Bit by bit, and then somehow, I was
down the mountain. It wasn't like I just said "Okay…GO…" and I was down, which
may be the way for some. For me, it was slowly, bit by bit. And the most
bizarre thing—when I got down, I had the thought of, "I want to go again." Why
in the world would I do that to myself?
Bizarre. So, I went down again. I fell every time—but less and less.
Most importantly, I kept going. Learning something about it each time down.
On that day, I realized that looking straight down the
mountain didn't work, but focusing on just the task at hand—that I could handle. I learned that if I
keep going, eventually I will get through.
And, at some point, I might even enjoy myself! I learned that it’s okay
to be cautious, smart in fact. It's okay to be a bit afraid. It's most
important that you take that breath and you try. And if you fall, learn how to
get up. And surround yourself with those that love you, care for you, believe
in you, will stick up for you when others try to push you down, and you will
actually enjoy the scenery as it goes by. You might even be able to improve
your technique each time you go.
Just like building a
theatre. Just like anything in life, really. Those things that are most worth
it will be hard, but they are possible. I’m certainly not ready to do blue
slopes yet, but I am willing to go back again and get more bruises in the
process. Thank you for being those supporters on the mountain of building a
theatre company. We literally could not do it without you. It's scary at times
for sure, but it's definitely possible. And the bumps and bruises are worth it.
We will keep diving. Taking leaps. Taking chances—with you. Looking forward to
seeing you up there on that mountain again and again. Together we can do this!
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