Find Another Door [on Merely A Thought Monday]

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Roger and I used to discuss life and career. He would say, “There is a time of becoming and then, one day, you realize that you have become it.” He was right. I wanted to be an artist. For years I chased it. For years I practiced it. And then, one day, I realized I was it. Not because I’d arrived at a place called Artist, but because art was my practice. Art was my pursuit. Art called me.

It’s a paradox. You become the thing that you pursue on the day that you realize it is not an achievement. Becoming is a choice of practice, a dedication of your limited time on earth to an exploration. Follow the Siren long enough and she will claim you.

Long after his retirement, Tom continued to toss his hat into the ring for regional directing assignments. During his career, he was a force in the theatre. He was a master-teacher-director who opened the door to many of my peers, theatre artists, the people I most admire. I heard about Tom long before I met him. And, although he continued his passionate pursuit after his retirement, the world of opportunity could not see beyond his grey hair. Even his former students, those people I most admire, stopped considering his resume or returning his calls.

It was in the midst of recognizing that he had more to give but the old routes were now closed that he pulled me aside and said, “I need help telling a story.” And then he asked, “Will you help me?”

Our project, The Lost Boy, opened ten years later,  several months after Tom’s death.  The opening night audience was a packed house of Tom’s family and relatives, people who brought photographs of the lost boy, Johnny, to the theatre. They clutched them as they watched the play. After the performance, they stayed in the theatre sharing their stories until the management asked them to leave.

A dream. Tom’s practice: uniting people through telling and sharing a common story. Art in its purest form.

His final lesson for me: storytellers (artists) age but the force of their dreams does not grow old. They will inevitably hit walls and freshly closed doors and rather than sit down and throw up their hands, they simply turn, ask a few questions, and look for another way.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about NEVER TOO OLD

 

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The Chili Boys in rehearsal for The Lost Boy. They wrote gorgeous music for the play. I will always be grateful to them.

 

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carrying on the tradition (and my heroes): mike and sabrina bartram

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50 minutes before stepping onto the stage. Kerri and I performed together for the first time.

 

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Hear It [on KS Friday]

divine intervention song box copy

When I was sixteen years old, a new driver, I made a left hand turn in front of a delivery truck that I did not see. I’m not sure how it missed me. At the time I had the illusion that it went through me. I saw the grill, felt the rush, and watched as it skidded to a stop in the turn lane I’d just vacated.
After college I went to Europe with my pal, Roger. I was penniless (almost) when we flew back to the USA. We landed in a snowstorm. Roger’s connecting flight to California left without a hitch. I missed mine to Colorado. I was stranded and desperate, knowing I didn’t have the resources to get home. A man standing in line behind me heard my plight and told me of an announcement – a limited number of cheap fares. I raced across the terminal and bought the last ticket, flying the next morning. I had the EXACT amount of money in my pocket. I used my last penny. Literally.
I have thousands of these stories. As, I believe do all of us. I suspect they happen every day, though go largely unnoticed. A single moment this way or that…a stranger’s hand that pulls us back to the curb. A generosity. A gut feeling. An inspiration. A knowing. A calling. A touch. Sisu.
In a world with no compartments, no division between life or death, fall and winter, it’s all divine intervention, isn’t it? Life?  Helping hands are everywhere. There’s no need to believe in a god with a big G or small to appreciate the quiet magic of it all. The scope and mystery of being. The assistance from ‘beyond.’ That’s what Kerri captures in her Divine Intervention. It’s there if you can hear it.

DIVINE INTERVENTION from the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about DIVINE INTERVENTION

 

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divine intervention/released from the heart ©️ 1995 kerri sherwood