We are all defined by our differences--the qualities and experiences that individualize us from everyone else. Sometimes we think our differences separate us from each other. It's like when you're going through something and the last thing you want to hear is, "I know how you feel." We dread that. We dread it primarily because we often think we deserve to rightfully feel whatever our emotions are on our own and not have to share them with someone else. It is a form of difference that we don't want infiltrated by someone else's common understanding. Yet, as of late, I have found myself challenged by that.
I was fortunate enough to be cast in the BC Theatre production of Red by John Logan and directed by my friend, Joe Meade. Was I intimidated at first? Without a doubt. Was I still intimidated as it went on? Without a doubt. Yet, something shifted along the way of this creative process between a small, intimate group of friends that has allowed me to recognize something great on a larger scale. The majority of the play, Rothko and I (Ken), cannot maintain a fluidity with one another, constantly questioning and striking down the beliefs we have set for ourselves. The core of the play is a struggle of difference. It left me wondering, why do our differences have to distance us from each other? I think that as the play comes to a close and both Rothko and I truly see each other, we too recognize that differences are not absolute. Differences are not meant to be agents for arguments or qualities that glorify one person over another. What I learned as Ken is that through our differences as human beings we are able to discover the harmonious respect we innately have for one another. Weirdly enough, this has been a thematic topic in academics, conversation, and now my creative outlets. I guess that there is an evident validity to the idea.
In the play, there is a moment where Rothko says as humans we are in a state of perpetual dissonance. Rothko was right--to an extent Ken and I would argue. Our past is stained with wars, violence, and disagreement but that does not mean we are constrained by them. I like to think we can prevail as one. We have the ability to see that there can be unity between two people--among all of us if we choose to believe in it and be proud of our differences. Silence is indeed so accurate. The moments that need no speech can say the most. So, when your friend says, "I know how you feel," don't get mad or frustrated. That person perhaps might sit next to you, grab your hand and truly see you. Give them that opportunity, you might surprise yourself. I think Rothko and Ken's story can testify to that. We can be different and still the same--we can avoid and still give in--we can disagree and still, we can respect. There's a beauty to that.
Red was much more than just a play--it changed me and I cannot express how grateful I am to have been taken on its journey. In the time I spent with it, I found that life can be easily succumbed to sadness and adversity. But, if all of us find those times of silent solidarity and harmony, we may stumble upon understanding and smile at it. In the end, we will find each other and be happy. Be proud that you are you but equally proud that you are never alone and can always learn from those in your life. A little thing--a little play--a happy ending. Here's to a better tomorrow.
-M
