London Fog

It's drizzling...
of course it is...
It's London...in July.
Apparently grey is the norm for summer in the city.
I am standing in the groundling line waiting to storm the standing room only space in front of Shakespeare's Globe Theatre..not THE Globe of course...but a faithful recreation of the original which was demolished by the Puritans in 14whatever. Still, it's exciting. In a hour or so I'll be watching some amazingly talented English actors perform "The Taming of the Shrew" while standing outside in a pit for 3 hours..totally worth the £5 I paid (about $8). Tomorrow will be my last full day in London & I'm hoping to catch another performance..perhaps a musical this time. When I first arrived in London I wandered from my hotel through the streets of the city. As if by internal beacon, I found myself smack dab in the middle of the theatre district. And so I got a £15 discount ticket to The 39 Steps; A slapstick retro play based on a Hitchcock film and done with 4 actors playing all 100 or so parts. I sat in my seat and as the house lights dimmed and the curtain opened, I felt my eyes well up full of tears...of joy. Later that week as I heard the first few notes of the Westminster Abbey Chorale fill, then echo across the high ceilings and stone walls, a similar swell of emotion. I anticipate it happening tonight.
I used to be an artist; perhaps I still am. There is definitely some unfinished business there. I had aspirations to be a theater actor; a singer; to connect with others through performance the way it connects with me. That deep, gutteral, emotional connection that cuts through reason and punches right in the gut. But fear kept me from giving it a fair chance. I took a break, went to school, went to therapy. I worked on myself hoping to unlock the prison door that kept me from fully expressing this part of who I was. I learned so much about myself and shed a lot of trauma from my childhood that was festering inside me. But I didn't go back to the theater. I don't know why exactly. No matter how much I have loved my work as a massage therapist, I continue to have this nagging that there is a missing piece to my life. But when I try to listen to it; I realize there is still fear.
When I found music and acting, it was an escape for me; a place where I could be someone else. I grew up in a dysfunctional family where a child was seen & not heard, where emotions were never discussed much less shown and where the rod was never spared even if the child was spoiled. The stage was a place of freedom. It was a place where I could reveal myself and be as expressive as I wanted; safely shrouded in the artifice of a role or a song. I wasn't me yet felt more alive than I ever felt in my reality.
As an adult that's all been reversed. Being on stage makes me feel exposed, vulnerable. The voice is my own even if the words are someone else's. I am revealed and there is nothing to hide behind. And I am still scared.I know that if I can give this part of me permission to express itself, my life will profoundly change. The particulars remain fuzzy. So for now I watch and listen and learn all the while knowing that while this adventure may be about seeing the world; it is not about remaining a spectator.