It’s that time. Crunch time. Preparing Dark Eyes for performance started nearly a year ago, but now we’re in the final stretch. Tasks abound; there are enough little fires cropping up to keep even a seasoned fire-fighter on their toes.
And in the midst of all this, as one of the central team working to produce this play, I’m just trying to keep a little perspective. There’s no way around the facts: are there seventeen things I should’ve finished a week ago? Yes. Will most of my day be given to these things, and will I have to live with resolving perhaps only a portion of them? Experience tells me, “Yep, probably”.
But today, unbidden but welcome, a simple thought has returned after some time away: and that is, pretty simply, the ‘why’. That is, the time that has come is not "the time to accomplish tasks simply for the sake of accomplishing them", as if they had any intrinsic value of their own. None of these efforts are meant to simply herald themselves. Instead, the purpose beneath all these things—all these exertions, all these reachings-out, all of these increases in public attention ("Hey you! Come and see our show!")—is to bring us closer to a unique moment. In fact, to bring us to what might be the only moment.
It’s that time. We are making way for a moment when we will get to be together in a way that borders on the sacred. We push ourselves beyond what we think we’re capable of; we wear ourselves down to the nub, hopefully to the negation of our egos, to create a space. A space for you. A space that has never-before been, and will never-again be, in quite the same way—but a space that has every possibility of contributing to the deepest foundations of our common humanity. We will perform; but not for you. Rather, we will perform, so that we might be with you. It's the only reason we do this; not for you alone, not for ourselves alone, but for us. So that we might catch even the smallest glimmer of each other, in the darkness—face to face.
We so hope to see you, there.