All the World's A Stage

Do you ever picture what people used to do with their spare time before there was a television in every home?  Remember with me a time when young and old, rich and poor would crowd together in a theater to witness the newly penned sonnets of Shakespeare or Marlowe.  Envision centuries earlier when masses of Greek citizens would fill the seats of an outdoor amphitheater to listen to oral histories, comedies, tragedies, and mythological feats of heroes and Olympians. Just as significant, consider the countless smaller gatherings since time immemorial when tribes, communities, and families would assemble to sing, play, and dance to the tunes and stories of their forefathers. In colonial and post-colonial America immigrants and slaves brought with them their fiddles and fifes, drums and guitars, rhythms and rhymes to ensure that their homeland was never too far away. These artistic threads have been woven into a fabric that can still be appreciated today.  But is it?  And what's the big deal anyway?

Shhh...I don't think pictures are allowed at the Symphony!

Trust me, I'm not standing on a soap-box to condemn film, media, or technology at large.  I'm simply exploring the idea that "performance arts" -- both fine and folk traditions of song, instrumentation, dance, poetry, storytelling, and theatrics -- have been one of the most bonding cultural institutions of mankind. Once upon a time, we gathered together! Unfortunately, much of this today has all but disappeared in our highways and byways, in our cities and streets. Instead of the norm, it's become a niche minority of the population that participates or supports such endeavors. A basic need within us that was once fulfilled through communal artistic and cultural expression (both formally on stages and informally in homes) is now replaced by the donning of ear-buds, thumbing through song selections, or sitting on couches passively entertained for hours. Seemingly we are being bombarded by screens, busy schedules, modern conveniences and mentalities that keep us in our homes, largely solitary, and often sedentary. Consequently, we rarely gather anymore. What a shame!

It's no surprise that I'm an artistic lass, so it's all well and good for me to wax poetic about the arts.  But I'm also pretty realistic -- I can understand that there are a lot of folks out there that aren't quite as artsy fartsy as I am.  All the same, if I were a betting woman I'd wager that there IS an artistic bone in your body somewhere.  Even if you sing in the shower or alone in your car, that's proof!  I bet you used to groove to the music when you were a baby, tapped your toe when the band marched by, laughed out loud at a funny scene in front of you, or have raised your eyebrows in amazement at a dancing troupe's precise syncopation.  Even the most tone-deaf of listeners or the most shy of theater-goers gains positively from these experiences.  There's something within us as humans that innately responds to artistic stimulation.  It is something that for ages has bonded us with others...and I argue, should be still.  

When's the last time you participated in a sing-along, watched a live skit or recitation, attended a school performance, gave ear to a group of Christmas carolers (or were one!), or spent an evening at the theater taking in a play, musical, dance recital, comedian, or symphony?  How about a live concert or an open-mic night at a coffeehouse?   I can concede that all stages are not created equal -- there's some pretty raunchy, senseless, and/or unprofessional stuff out there.  But if you're like me, you can still find plenty to choose from if you stick with what you like and are willing to push the envelope ever-so-slightly once in a while.  Personally, I'm not a huge fan of jazz music, but I wouldn't automatically skip out if given the chance to attend an event.  My husband doesn't have a particular affinity for musicals, but he'll take one in every now and again just to diversify his experiences and to satiate my thirst for them.  Classic plays aren't necessarily any better than modern ones and vice versa.  Same goes for music.  As long as your antennae is perked to pick-up a signal, you're bound to find events and other people with similar taste.

Even in a rural area like mine, there are a host of creative options to choose from.  For my birthday a few months ago, Weldon surprised me with tickets to see Floyd Collins -- a musical based on the true, local story of a young caver caught underground who's failed rescue attempt captivated the attention of the national press in the 1920s.  Last week, I drove an hour away to Bowling Green, KY to view the grandeur of the Moscow Ballet performing Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite with my mother-in-law, sister-in-law and four-year-old ballerina niece.  Last weekend a handful of ladies attended a musical production of Little Women at our regional theater.  This coming week, Weldon and I hope to make it to our nephew's eighth grade Christmas program at school.  Later this season, my mom has invited us on a day trip to Nashville for the Radio City Rockettes Christmas Spectacular at the Grand Ole Opry...I'm always amazed by the toy soldier routine!!  Granted, this time of year is full of artistic traditions, so it's easy to make up for lost time, gather a group, and even splurge a bit; but that shouldn't give us license to coast the rest of the year.  Budget-sensitive folks like me can save up for these outings as special occasions, put them on a gift wishlist, or simply lean toward less-expensive or free options -- learn an instrument or invite friends over who'd like a place to jam (food is always an added bargaining chip); encourage children to play dress-up and pretend...then join in; attend a school musical or recital; or organize a carol-sing.

Okay, so you weren't performing before royalty at age three like Mozart and you didn't wow the crowds with your prose like Shakespeare.  Who has?!?!  The point is not necessarily to shine like a star; the point is to give our inner creative side a chance, however minuscule it's assumed to be.  Often, being a participant is even more rewarding than being in the audience because it utilizes a completely different part of our brain, our body, our senses, and our being.  Someone who would never dream of performing alone is perfectly fulfilled to join a number of others as part of the whole.  In essence, the individual needs the group and the group needs the individuals.  Most people aren't wired for bright lights and a solo stage, but I think we're all geared toward the communal gatherings of times past -- occasions when we gather to listen, to watch, to create, to remember, and to orchestrate our lives with others.

"O Come All Ye Faithful", anyone?