I am saying this to say that for the longest I have believed that I possess humility and I still believe that I have it... but I have realized that I have forgotten the weight of the word and have been on the journey of rediscovering it.
On https://positivepsychology.com/humility/ it says that "Humility is an attitude of spiritual modesty that comes from understanding our place in the larger order of things. It entails not taking our desires, successes, or failings too seriously."
This past month I have been professionally working as an understudy for the first time and I mentally struggled with the role of it. It's not that I couldn't do it, in fact, I learned all 71 pages of the play that I have been working on for the past few months, I've learned the tracks of two characters, and have rehearsed them to honor the director's vision while making them my own... but I struggled with the possibility of not performing at all.
Let me also say that it's not about me. I know that. I'm not an artist that tell stories for the sake of me just being seen. I tell stories to hopefully change the molecules of those experiencing it. I am humble enough to understand my place within the bigger picture and I know that many artists go through the understudying duty, but my passion and ambition makes it hard for me to sit idle. I am grateful for this opportunity and the trust to cover what was a heavy lift. I know that it was my job to do so, and I am not one for comparison of any sort but... ambition.
My ambition makes me selfish in the midst of me wanting to change the world. I want to help tell the story. I want to use my voice. I want to, in Shakespeare's words, "amaze indeed the very faculties of eyes and ears." It tore at me that I wouldn't perform so much that I've had a few dreams of me actually getting the chance to do it. It makes me sad. My anxiousness caused a tight pain in my chest closing day and I thought I might've needed to go to the hospital. It's crazy that my ambition would do that to me.
My therapist said something wonderful the other day that made me feel better about the work. He said that I've done everything in theater except this. He's right. I've lead quite a few shows at this point. I've portrayed roles far from me, and have been challenged like no other, but I've also asked God to continue allowing me to grow as an artist, and to stretch my abilities. God has given me the job to Understudy not only a lead that doesn't leave the stage, but a supporting character as well which required me to live in the script in prep for four months. This is the hardest job I ever had to do and there was an agony at the pit of my stomach, each day that didn't contribute to telling the story. Even more than that, I just wanted to further prove to myself, that I could do anything, even something as hard as this.
I've been thinking about these Kendrick Lamar lyrics in 'Count me Out':
"I care too much
wanna share too much
in my head too much
I shut down too
I ain't there too much
I'm a complex soul"
This is true for me. My level of care brought me to tears. I have a new appreciation for understudies. They are heroes with impossible jobs and they should be valued more. They should be given flowers. As I aim to bask in arts leadership positions, I have the mind to advocate that all understudies should have at least two performances guaranteed in their contracts no matter if the principals can perform or not. it's the least companies and unions can do. I advocate to add to the role so that the work may not ever feel in vain.
They deserve it.
My therapist asked me: "Do you feel accomplished from this job?"
This was hard question. My instinct says "no." I think it's because I have not the opportunity to prove that the principal role was covered. I do feel accomplished in all of the work I've done, and knowing that I can do it, but this has all felt like a test. God always has a plan though, and I can bet that the "no" will turn to a yes in the future.
This is all to say, if you're reading this, that your feelings towards things you're passionate about are valid. Even if you feel disappointed about something now, know that the sun will come out eventually. Everything happens for a reason whether you see it or not. You are valuable.
I am grateful for this experience. I am grateful to the journey, to my wonderful director, associate director, the theater, the cast, the crew, and the other fellow heroic understudies who I built wonderful relations with during this job.
Three cheers for us. Hip-hip!
