Save The Six

“I’m wondering if now might be the time for humans to pay more attention to supporting the trees.”

My mum, Carol, is on a roll. She’s been using her weekly blog to write about human behaviour, the environment...the big-picture stuff. Those of you who know her know that her brain doesn’t really do ‘small-picture’. 

She’s focused now on Wildwood, the 77-acre ecoforest in Yellowpoint which lies within the traditional territories of the Stz’uminus and Snuneymuxw Coast Salish First Nations. 

The ‘Save The Six’ campaign aims to purchase the 6 remaining acres of Wildwood, which are home to 35 Mother Trees (250 years or older) and about 45 Soon-to-be-Mother Trees (80 to 100 years old). 

We lived in Yellowpoint when I was a kid, not far from Wildwood, and I will never forget the feeling of freedom and safety I felt running around in the woods there. So now it’s time for me to make a contribution to help keep these magnificent trees safe.  

You can learn about ‘Save The Six’ here (by the way, all donations made this month will be matched, thanks to an anonymous donor):

https://www.ecoforestry.ca/save-the-6-acres

Also, read about the unstoppable Stephanie Johnson’s Coast Salish PIt Cook Celebration which was held at Wildwood:

https://montecristomagazine.com/community/century-coast-salish-pit-cook-rekindles-tradition-food-reconciliation

And don’t forget to read Carol’s blog:

https://caroljmatthews.wordpress.com/2021/12/08/more-about-trees-legacies/

Spending Father's Day Casting Nasturtiums On His Good Name

I can’t resist re-posting this. Today would have been my father’s 84th birthday. I’m spending the day writing, Dad, and tonight we’ll drink a glass of red wine in your honour.

My father loved words, sounds, and language. I guess I’ll always feel that he played a role in setting me on my voice training path.

I remember back when I was working as a text coach for a production of ‘Medea’ at UBC, I’d discuss Greek pronunciations with him - did he think ‘Glauce’ should be pronounced ‘Glau - say’ or ‘Glau - kay’’, and so on. Dad was emphatic about the muscular sounds of the Greek language, insisting that “the vowels are long, the consonants are hard! It’s always ‘KUH, not ‘SUH’!” I’m not sure he was right about that, but it wasn’t about scholarly precision. He loved the vigour and vitality of those sounds. 

He felt the connection between characters and their utterances.  He once gleefully told me about a woman waiting in the line at the bank who, needing to sign a paper, had turned to him and asked, “can I borrow your paaaaaan?” From this articulation, Dad created an entire character.

He kept note of what he called “howlers” – warped expressions and malapropisms - whenever he heard them. Like the sailor “changing his tact”, or someone “casting nasturtiums on his good name”. Or typos - he took the time to clip an article out of the newspaper and mail it to me just so I could see that the headline read, “Detainee Welcomes a Pubic Inquiry”. Scrawled on the side of the paper was Dad’s voice: “Look at his big smile! And the wife’s expression!”

 At a launch party for ‘Piccolo Mondo’ he said, “Writing began for me in Grade Eleven…It continued at UBC where I sat in the basement of the student newspaper office every Thursday slowly clicking my loves and hates into a Remington typewriter and onto a column of arts criticism…What I loved most dearly, though, was reading poems to audiences, showing off...I’ve always loved having an audience. Lend me your ears.”

What I remember about him, and what guides me, is the way he spanned a continuum of physical, vocal, verbal, and written expression. He embodied words - reaching across, darting through, dancing along breath, muscle, sound, typeset, and ink. For him, sounds, speech, words and text merged in a way that is rare – a way that I will likely spend my whole life trying to understand.

To me, his sound and fury signified everything. 

May Mindfulness & Auguries of Innocence

Liz HK lives on a tiny island in the Salish Sea. She’s a great gardener, among her many talents, and recently she posted this beautiful photo of the Calypso Orchid. Read her suggestions for appreciating the elusive fragrance:

“First, hold your breath lest you blow the perfume away. Without breathing, get your nose down to its level. Now, when you are inches away, breathe in slowly and savor the aroma as you only get one chance--the bloom is only big enough to hold enough scent for one fleeting whiff.”

What a beautiful exercise for being mindful.

May is Mindfulness Month in my coaching studio. It’s a concept I’ve struggled with for a long time. I even felt a flutter of anxiety in committing to a mindfulness month in my own studio - yikes.

An impatient person, I’ve spent years rolling my eyes when people talked about meditation or described simple acts of observation and appreciation. I’ve resisted aspects of my voice training that encouraged mindfulness. “Let’s just go - get on with it - do the thing,” I think to myself.

Of course it’s a control issue. I resist because I feel fear. I’m pretty much Luke Skywalker when he first meets Yoda. Much anger in me. Never my mind on where I was, what I was doing.

But every time I speak from that state of anger, fear or impatience…it hurts. The sensation in my throat is uncomfortable, and the sound I hear is not what I want to sound like. If my voice had a colour in those moments, it would be a pale, shadowy, yellowish grey.

Meanwhile, when I think of times my voice feels good, I’d describe it as the colour of this Calypso Orchid. And it feels like it’s resonating freely through my body. Those have been moments when I wasn’t thinking about the future or the past. Moments when I let the armour slip a bit, let breathe drop in, and give myself over to the present.

In ‘Auguries of Innocence’, William Blake writes:

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour

It’s hard to let go. Release that need for control. And I’m still learning about my fears. But it’s a good practice for me.

So this month, to coax myself gently towards the present moment, I’ll keep Liz HK’s orchid in mind.

…And now, when I am inches away, I’ll breathe in slowly and savour the aroma.

How To Steer A Ship

“Hello passengers, this is your captain speaking…” said the female voice on the ferry.

There was a woman steering the ship, which was fitting, as I was thinking about women in power. About confidence and authenticity.

I’d just come from working on a tv series - one set in a superhero universe. When I was a kid, all the superhero shows starred men. Now, this is a superhero show, but let’s just say it’s not Superman.

People are often curious about how actors “learn all those lines”, and let me tell you, these ones were really challenging for me. A lot of technical language, quite complex stuff. And when I arrived on set, I discovered I would also be handling a lot of complicated props. There was a bunch of intricate business to execute - accurately - while speaking this complex dialogue. Talk, walk, use the equipment as if you’re an expert, use this eyeline, hit your marks.

(Sorry, I’ll stop with the hand-wringing. This is an actor’s job, nobody tricked me into it.)  

Film sets are a bit like ships. You need strong leadership - a responsible captain, so that all the passengers feel they’re in capable hands. There’s a strong sense of hierarchy. And at the top of the chain of command is the director. Through the years I’ve seen a lot of directors use their power in different ways. Different approaches to working with the actors and the crew. And we’re all watching them, to see how they’ll set the tone. It can be subtle, but that dynamic moves through the cast and crew, so if the director is domineering, the crew may become fearful and insecure. If the director is disorganized, the tone becomes chaotic, people can get sloppy, and mistakes happen.

The director on this show was grounded. She knew what she wanted, she didn’t have any time to waste getting it, but she wasn’t aggressive or bossy. She didn’t get angry, she wasn’t manipulating people into giving her what she wanted. She didn’t plead - she just was honest and direct. She was straightforward. She was clear.

And I found myself becoming more grounded and calm as I interacted with her. So, as she was herself, she allowed me to be myself. And I also saw the crew and other people around her taking on that energy too. 

It’s easy to make observations and assumptions as a short-term guest in a workplace. No doubt that film set has its share of issues and challenges. But what I saw and felt on that day helped me to relax and get my part of the job done. And it was impressive to see how much was accomplished in a short period of time. Others, as far as I could tell, felt good about their work too. 

This is not a given on film sets. I’m partly writing this because it stands in contrast with another recent experience. So I wanted to report my findings as a student of women in leadership. My notes from the field. 

How was she successful? What did she do? 

• She didn’t try to do other people’s jobs for them. 

• She didn’t waste time. 

• She didn’t become erratic.

Instead:

• She spoke calmly, joking occasionally, when it served to help others relax.

• She clearly described what she needed, so others knew what to do. And gave praise when things worked.

• She collaborated. Instead of micro-managing, She showed respect for the expertise of her co-workers, and she recruited them and their skills. 

This is how to help make a ship run smoothly.

Fall, Theatre? A Call To Action

I got the email from The Arts Club Theatre Company. They are trying to get the word out about their Fall Theatre Trio Package: bargain prices, extensive safety protocols, and two convenient “watch online” viewing options…just please, please, buy a ticket. Any kind of ticket. Please let us entertain you.

It’s a cliché and an understatement to say that there’s a lot of heart in the theatre, and I’ve been witnessing such courage in my theatre community since March of this year. There are days when I think my heart might break from it.

Back in the spring, there was the award-winning actor-director offering free math tutoring for his colleagues’ kids, because he understood the strain on theatre families suddenly home-schooling while trying to find work. “I was pretty good at math when I was in school. Let me help.”

And the fight director-lighting designer who wrote a beautiful online post about how he realized that he would have to find a different way to earn a living for a while, until we get through the pandemic. He described his good fortune and relief at being hired at a small boat-building company. There was poetry in his description of the work there, comparing boats with backstages, complete with achingly beautiful photographs.

All through the summer, the actors and singers and dancers posting reminders on social media “hey folx, please wear a mask!” even as all their work contracts were melted into air, into thin air. Actually, no: nothing so gentle as melting. More like massive stone dominos, crashing down, one onto the next. Inevitable.

But the creativity. So many people trying so hard to make theatre in whatever way we safely can until major medical intervention arrives. Yet how can that happen, with anti-maskers stamping their feet and whining about their “freedom”? Refusing to behave with basic, common decency or respect for their own communities.

In England, the government recommends that the same artists who have moved and delighted audiences for decades should now re-train for work in a different sector. Recycle yourselves into something useful, please. Meanwhile, on BC Ferries, the rabid anti-maskers on their way to a large rally of their lunatic fringe, assault fellow passengers who are wearing masks.   

The Canadian performer’s union informs us that, regretfully, they can no longer defer basic dues – the organization is struggling, it has only been receiving 15% of regular revenue, no other funding sources. They acknowledge that dues payment ($90) will create hardship for some members, and they offer options for temporary withdrawal.

I’m a Gemini - the Janus face, the sign of duality, so I usually enjoy contrasts. But right now I feel something different. I would call it rage, but at my age that would be unseemly.

I hear the weariness in my friends’ voices, I see it on their faces, as they shoulder the weight of these heavy times. I’m angry when I hear about the selfish behaviour of people who should know better. As you are old and reverend, should be wise.

“So, what specifically do you want the audience to do?” That’s what I say all the time as a public speaking coach. Well, I’ll put this call-to-action out to my friends, family, and colleagues who do NOT work in the arts: the theatre needs your help. Performers in Canada are hustling, and pivoting, and learning, and striving, and creating, and in these rare, rare instances now when they get to perform, they will leave it all out on the well-sanitized stage for you. Don’t turn away. Lend them your ears: The Arts Club Fall Theatre Trio.

She Worked Hard All Her Life

Last night I learned of the death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, a woman many described as having worked hard all her life for gender equality and social justice. I heard the news of her passing while watching a movie called ‘Knives Out’, and in that movie there’s a character, a young immigrant nurse, who is described as a hard worker too. I thought that was a nice coincidence.

Working hard is good, and good qualities are for others to observe in us. Some people just can’t wait, though, they have to bring it up to make sure everyone knows: “I’ve worked hard.” It’s actually a pronouncement I hear a lot, “I’ve worked hard!” It’s not always said defensively, though it sometimes sounds that way. And it’s not always spoken by people of a particular sex, or age, or skin colour, though it sometimes seems like there’s a pattern. One might be tempted if one were prone to generalizing.

It’s rare to meet someone who does NOT feel that they worked hard… to get that promotion, that tenure, that holiday, that car, and so on. I don’t often hear, “I have an average-level work ethic, but I was born in the right place, at the right time.” That’s not a thing. We are a nation of hard workers, just so you know.

If the hard work is so irrefutable, then why the need to assert it? Why mention it at all? Talk about stating the obvious. It’s like going around saying, “I breathed in. And then I breathed out.”

And it’s in the past tense, so we know the accomplishments are complete. All the work is over, time to put your feet up and enjoy a well-earned holiday. A “richly deserved” holiday, as the saying goes. The work is all done!

I guess RBG never got the memo. She never acted like the world owed her a comfortable retirement. Surely if there were a person who had earned it, it was her. Nevertheless, to borrow a descriptor of another strong, hard-working woman, she persisted….well into her golden years. And how much we have gained from that wisdom. That experience. That unstoppable drive to “do her work to the very best of her ability.”

All The Virtual World's A Stage

Last week I played my first Virtual Reality game. It’s called The Tempest, have you tried it?

There’s this old woman, Prospera, who lives on an island and wants revenge, it seems. I was the only player on that day, so I started as myself, then became Miranda…then I think I was the bad guy at one point, and then I was back to Miranda.

The whole Virtual Reality experience left my state altered for about 18 hours after the event. And not in the same way I used to be altered by live theatre experiences back in the old days. It was overwhelming at first - I was definitely overstimulated. But it soon faded to just an occasional flash through my brain of a spinning and swirling triangular cartoon character.

Now it’s hard to remember that it even happened at all. I mean, I know that it did. I have a sense of myself standing in my living room, looking like Princess Leia in that bounty hunter get-up that time she rescued Han Solo from Jabba The Hut, and, I gather, waving my arms around and shuffling my feet *cue hysterical laughter from those watching me*.

But the memory is housed in a different part of me, because my body-brain can’t recall much of it. I have no physical reference point of walking into a theatre and sitting in my seat. My heart did not beat in tempo with fellow audience members. My breath did not sync with the players on the stage.

Back at the start of 2020 I wrote about working and learning remotely, and the past six months has taught me a little more about that. And I have a lot to say - I am a talker, after all, and when I learn a little, I talk a lot. But in that respect, I’m thinking about the benefits of online learning, and I’ll try to articulate more about that later. Tomorrow. Because today I’m thinking about what happens when mind and body are separated. What happens when the head brain is receiving all the information and stimuli? The body brain is relegated to responding to, and adapting to, the unusual weight of machinery and electricity putting pressure on the cranium. Huh. What heavy issues must be virtually grappled with up there…

I’ve just now realized that in the Tempest game, I saw no Caliban. Where was that character? Was it too hard to integrate the data for a figure who embodies connection to the land? Too hard to find a digital role for a physical sense of place?

No wonder those VR figures have large heads covered by powerful, magical masks. Heads which lead the movements, and drive the figures endlessly forward, onward, through virtual space, as their light bodies float behind.

Spending Father's Day Casting Nasturtiums On His Good Name

My father loved words, sounds, and language. I guess I’ll always feel that he played a role in setting me on my voice training path.

I remember back when I was working as a text coach for a production of ‘Medea’ at UBC, I’d discuss Greek pronunciations with him - did he think ‘Glauce’ should be pronounced ‘Glau - say’ or ‘Glau - kay’’, and so on. Dad was emphatic about the muscular sounds of the Greek language, insisting that “the vowels are long, the consonants are hard! It’s always ‘KUH, not ‘SUH’!” I’m not sure he was right about that, but it wasn’t about scholarly precision. He loved the vigour and vitality of those sounds. 

He felt the connection between characters and their utterances.  He once gleefully told me about a woman waiting in the line at the bank who, needing to sign a paper, had turned to him and asked, “can I borrow your paaaaaan?” From this articulation, Dad created an entire character.

He kept note of what he called “howlers” – warped expressions and malapropisms - whenever he heard them. Like the sailor “changing his tact”, or someone “casting nasturtiums on his good name”. Or typos - he took the time to clip an article out of the newspaper and mail it to me just so I could see that the headline read, “Detainee Welcomes a Pubic Inquiry”. Scrawled on the side of the paper was Dad’s voice: “Look at his big smile! And the wife’s expression!”

 At a launch party for ‘Piccolo Mondo’ he said, “Writing began for me in Grade Eleven…It continued at UBC where I sat in the basement of the student newspaper office every Thursday slowly clicking my loves and hates into a Remington typewriter and onto a column of arts criticism…What I loved most dearly, though, was reading poems to audiences, showing off...I’ve always loved having an audience. Lend me your ears.”

What I remember about him, and what guides me, is the way he spanned a continuum of physical, vocal, verbal, and written expression. He embodied words - reaching across, darting through, dancing along breath, muscle, sound, typeset, and ink. For him, sounds, speech, words and text merged in a way that is rare – a way that I will likely spend my whole life trying to understand.

To me, his sound and fury signified everything. 

Speak With Authority

You’ve tackled the tech pivot. Now is the time to find your VOICE.

These weeks have been about juggling which Zoom link, what Teams feature, which Meet video setting, or what Hangout audio settings you needed. Now is the time to dial in your messaging and speak with authority.

The confidence you're seeking is not about self-worth - you've already got that. You just need a system.

A system to structure any presentation that comes your way.

A system to tap into your powerful, authentic, confident voice.

A system to ground you in the moments before you step on the stage.

Join me for my 4-week program and claim your power as a confident leader. Here’s how it works:

We meet once a week on Mondays. During the week, I support you via Marco Polo and a private Facebook group. The 4 week course starts on 06/08/2020 at 11:00am PST.

Tuition is $300.

Questions? Leave a comment to start the conversation. I’ll ask you a few questions to ensure we’re a fit and discuss the details.

Spring Training

Happy Spring Break!

I'm offering individual coaching sessions via Zoom from Monday March 16th to Friday April 3rd.

As well, I have a small number of in-person session times available in Vancouver, B.C. (with heightened hygiene practices, no handshake greetings, etc, for public health reasons).

Audition coaching, voice training, text analysis...your time, your choice. We have the technology - let's keep working!

Just reply here to let me know you're interested, and I'll send you details about rates and scheduling.

See you in the virtual studio!
Alison