When the Curtain Falls

Inverted curtain.

I’m standing alone onstage as the curtain falls.

I’m confused. My performance isn’t over.Inverted curtain.

I hear a commotion. Scratching. Voices, whispers and shouts. Something’s going on, but the curtain’s heavy velvet blocks out light and muffles sound.

I can hear the crew replacing the set. God only knows where I’ll make my next entrance.  New actors have been ushered in, but we’ve yet to be introduced. I can hear their hushed voices reciting lines. The crew is manipulating the lighting. Flashes of yellow, red and blue.

And I stand. Alone. In the same wardrobe. Wearing the same makeup. Unsure of the next act.

Entering the unknown, I’ve been filled with fear to the point of inaction. I know I must move, grow and learn, but I’ve been unable to focus. I’ve wasted hours, sitting and staring, mind numb. It’s been this way for two weeks.

Just this morning, trying to de-funk-tify my mind, I read a blog about igniting inner creativity. A passage from the post stood out: “A passion for discovery, for embracing the new and the unfamiliar can help you transform your life in ways you never dreamed possible, as you find the strength to move out of fear and resistance and into something new.”

So instead of standing, I sit. I gently close my eyes to calm the darkness. I shut off my outside ears, listening only to my brain, my heart, my bones. And I wait. I wait patiently until I feel the gentle breeze of the curtain sliding open. Until I hear my co-star’s voice. I breathe deeply. I open my eyes. And I smile.

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