straying a little further south.
Tomorrow is our seven hour practice; we're breaking it into two parts and in the middle will be Lawrence's funeral. It feels almost disrespectful to be happy tomorrow when I feel everything is dusted with a sort of unshakable somberness that I think may affect even our acting. It's going to be hard to push through it. I don't even know how I'm going to feel when I see Ms. Teil. I am so mortified by flippancy. I can forgive it in others but I have a difficult time forgiving myself if I feel I've tread unthoughtfully on something sacred. Grief is the thing that hits me the hardest. I think it hits everyone the hardest. I haven't lost anyone really close to me but I can only begin to contemplate the emptiness and the craving for hope that comes from it. Life is precious and each person is a near infinite universe; they are a library lined with books that only they are in possession of, with pictures and stories of things they have seen written in a beautiful tapestry seen from their perspective. And when that person dies, it's as if that library and that universe has become closed off to us forever while we are on this earth. In a way--and let me see if I can word this in the least morbid way possible--I am sort of looking forward to the funeral because I never knew him, and I'm hoping that in quietly reflecting on his life I will glimpse the universe which is now lost to us in this lifetime.
Besides the play there hasn't been too much happening. Well, just personal things. I really wish I could write about everything, but I wonder how much of it is even edifying in the least and whether or not it's really worth it to expound upon the shadowed things. I am in the middle of a fight--a good fight--and I am growing weary of the uncertainness of everything. My prayer, as it has been always, is for wisdom and knowledge. But even more that God would become so real to me that His light would be unmistakable--a great, glowing sun, even in the night hour, that would cast an all-encompassing light on the subjects at hand. I need guidence more than anything, really.
Besides the play there hasn't been too much happening. Well, just personal things. I really wish I could write about everything, but I wonder how much of it is even edifying in the least and whether or not it's really worth it to expound upon the shadowed things. I am in the middle of a fight--a good fight--and I am growing weary of the uncertainness of everything. My prayer, as it has been always, is for wisdom and knowledge. But even more that God would become so real to me that His light would be unmistakable--a great, glowing sun, even in the night hour, that would cast an all-encompassing light on the subjects at hand. I need guidence more than anything, really.