Blair Thomas

I went to my first theatre show in DC! (sorry, it must be slightly lame to read about all my DC firsts). My MBA-BFF invited me to an adult puppet show. Now, before you get all judgemental, it's not like it was some nudey puppet-on-human action. It was more of an arts/experimential theatre kind of thing (if you can consider Chicagoan Blair Thomas a "new" experimential kind of guy).

Anyway, the show was beautiful. The abridged version is that it was an stage reproduction of Kakaun's 10 Bulls, a story of enlightenment and journey. It's a spiritual tale, layered with complexity and struggle, of triumph and rest and unity.

While there was a lot about the show that made me think and rethink aspects of my life, what really got me thinking was the set. Now granted, I'm a performer; I concentrate on the movement, voice and motivation of the characters on the stage. But this time around, it was the set itself that got me thinking. This show used heavily these blank, white screens on wheels - they helped shape the space on the stage; set the tone of the scene; provided a canvas upon which to paint a story. But they also moved, to obscure and reveal, to illuminate and cast shadow. They were such a part of the show that these inanimate screens, to me, were characters in the show.

And all of it made me think about the people in my life who act as these screens; who shelter me and make me vulnerable; who illuminate and cast shadow; who obscure and reveal. I guess we all have people in our lives who are enablers and who are blockers. But how do we transform those obstacles into springboards? How do we manage those people who turn life into chaos? How do we find peace in the whirlwind storm that is life?

How may a snowflake exist in a raging fire?