by Luke Durling
Much like the titular maiden of fairy tale lore, my story starts with wishing.
I have a manuscript coming out of the woodwork as soon as I am willing to put it out there. It is done, finished, awaiting the final review that it will surely pass, but my comfort is calling it back for evaluation. Procrastination calls it back for reasons even I don’t fully understand. I want the book to be perfect, but it is perfect. I know deep down in my soul it is, even with the few mistakes it might have, it is perfect. I have to take a risk in order to get my wish.
I didn’t really understand why I was resisting until I considered my second primary feat of bravery, being in Rogers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella at The Croswell Opera House in November-early December. In the show, Cinderella laments about being “in [her] own little corner in [her] own little chair”, an experience I feel I understand a great deal. She finds comfort in the fantastical daydreams of lives she could live, yet she constantly folds back to her routine. There is a strange lull that comes from routine, even the bad ones. Having something to lose, despite being less than ideal is still something to seemingly be lost or changed, so we resist. Becoming accustomed to the life we live without contentment makes us believe we either deserve our lives as they stand or wish for a contentment that can only come by losing something in our lives. Wishes may in fact come true, but no wish ever comes without some kind of change. This is what makes life and its improvement so difficult. We are often offered or have the ability to change our life, but the simple idea of our lives changing makes us feel more ‘comfortable” with things we don’t have the courage or means to do.
In terms of my personal experiences, it comes often as my fearful ego. For example, Cinderella is a very operatic show with quite strict and precise vocal arrangements and extensively choreographed, intricate dance routines. Full disclosure, I neither consider myself a particularly operatic singer nor a properly elegant dancer. In doing this show, I’ve had to let something go I never thought I had to lose. I had to let go of my ego, accepting my inability, while strengthening my ability. I had to change the rush of hyper drive energy of SpongeBob into something slightly more serious, yet equally fun. I had to take a good look at theater as an art and realize what I truly want out of the process. Sacrifice my time and energy for something equally fulfilling in the end, with less spotlight than I thought I would need. I risked losing something small that seemed quite large at the time, simply because I felt like it was all I had at the time.
Cinderella goes through a similar situation in the story, doubting her ability, questioning her choices. While her stepmother and sisters can be deeply cruel, when it’s all we think we have, fear is the most compelling comfort. Even when we know we could have more, we still risk losing the illusion we have more than what we can afford to lose. Sometimes, it’s that simple illusion that keeps us in our chairs, dreaming of ways life could be better, ignoring the heralds and invitations for the real things that would make us better.
I think Cinderella teaches us how to be humble in our times of grandeur, but also not turn the illusions we fear to lose into our own self imposed midnight. At least, that’s what it shared with me. I want to thank our director, Ron Baumanis, for giving me the opportunity to be in what will truly be an incredible, magical production. The lessons it taught me and the friendships I have made will be something I will never forget.
Our shoes of glass are the ones that will often move the most mountains; we simply have to not be afraid to lose them along the way.
Rogers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella; November 21st through December 7th at The Croswell Opera House
Get tickets now: croswell.org
Calm and Cultured 