Weaving Gold

Mokosha, Anastasia Sophia, and Me, Natalia . . . while the books are written

Deviating from Script

on September 23, 2014

Stage . by SeaFairy Photography / Darkroom©2007-2014 SeaFairy (via DeviantArt)

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts…

~ William Shakespeare, As You Like It


Plays to celebrate Christmas, Easter, spring, and the end of the school year. Poems to commemorate great Ukrainian poets (Taras Shevchenko, Ivan Franko, Lesia Ukrainka, Vasyl Symonenko, Lina Kosetenko). Greeting dignitaries. Bandura concerts. Piano recitals.

In my growing-up years, I found many occasions to step up onto a stage and perform. That I did not enjoy performing, was not relevant. My cooperation was expected. I was responsible (I would certainly know my lines) and presentable (I spoke Ukrainian well and my mother would assure that I appeared in the correct outfit). That was enough.

Learning the poems and lines was easy for me. But when it came time to step onto the stage, or to face the visiting dignitary, my stomach would roil and my heart would race. I felt ill, even though I knew my part and had practiced it repeatedly.

I finally realized (yesterday), that I do not wish to play a role prescribed by another. I do not wish to recite words someone More Important Than I wrote or that someone in a position of authority directed me to say. I am ready to choose my own role and speak my own words.

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Speak, Wise One...

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