Days of Green Honey Merci

5/16, Day 13,526: Green Shame
5/17, Day 13,527: A Video Poem for Sandy Hook
5/18, Day 13,528: Sans Fist, Merci Honey

 (Why am I naming days?) (And what does it mean to “Help build the honeycomb?)

“…honey in the heart,
Green in the body, out of a petty phrase,
Out of a thing believed, a thing affirmed…”
-Wallace Stevens, The Well-Dressed Man With The Beard

5/16, Day 13,526: Green Shame
I’m not a big fan of shame as a motivating force, but while working on the TCG Conference I experienced the best kind of shame. Someone called me out on the absence of climate change as a priority in theatre, and after giving all the good reasons why it couldn’t be a priority right now, and several days of stewing over the shame I felt in being called out, I realized that I could simply make it a priority for me and begin there.

Along those lines, in the middle of a 14-hour day on Thursday, I came  across this image and info: ”In the most comprehensive analysis to date, we analysed 21 years worth of peer-reviewed papers on “global warming” or “global climate change”. Among the 12,465 papers, we identified over 4,014 abstracts authored by 10,188 scientists that stated a position on human-caused global warming. Among those 4,014 abstracts, 97.1% endorse the consensus. Among the 10,188 scientists, 98.4% endorse the consensus.” As I wrote of Facebook then, “If you agree with the scientific consensus on climate change, please share this image & website. If you don’t agree, please visit the website with an open mind: http://www.theconsensusproject.com/“

A little bit of shame can be a good thing if it leads to saving the only earth we’ll ever have.

5/17, Day 13,527: A Video Poem for Sandy Hook

Thanks to the amazing work of Jody Christopherson, Tine DiLucia, Rachael Hip-Flores and many others, my “A Poem for Sandy Hook” was turned into this moving video. Learn more about the Gun Control New Media Action here.

5/18, Day 13,528: Sans Fist, Merci Honey

Last night, we closed Sans Merci with a great performance to a sold out audience. Tonight, we say goodbye to Honey Fist, a play inspired in part by the life and death of my high school friend Justin Stewart. I share his obituary here because there is so little about him online:
 I have kept it on my writing desk since my mother first sent it to me in the mail. Though I changed many of the details of his life and passing, I hope some small part of his spirit is present in our final show today.

Now, the above should be plenty for the last 3 days, but What other small things did I do to help build the Honeycomb?

• 14 hours at TCG on Thursday–long, but with much progress made
• I joined the new Future Fleet campaign — ask Coke, Pepsi, and Dr. Pepper-Snapple to slash their oil use and kick the tar sands habit!
• Sent a message to the EPA telling them you support their new Tier 3 standards.
• Ate vegetarian.
• Helped with change over from Sans Merci to Honey Fist, and told each of the extraordinary peeps who worked on Sans Merci how grateful I am for their work. I can’t believe it’s over.

How beautiful, if sorrow had not made / Sorrow more Beautiful than Beauty’s self…

New Orleans and Many Hands Make Light Hearts

Day 13,524: Mother’s Day in New Orleans
Day 13, 525: Many Hands Make Light Hearts (Why am I naming days?) (And what does it mean to “Help build the honeycomb?)

Working early and  late and very little time to post here, but if I stop now, it will be harder to pick it back up again. And I do think this kind of daily reckoning is worth doing, even when (especially when?) there’s no time to do it.

Day 13,524: Mother’s Day in New Orleans–As for the days, I am sending love and light to those affected by the New Orleans Mother’s Day shooting. After my visit earlier in the year, I fell a little in love with the place, and beyond my concern for the families affected, I’m upset that so little attention has been paid to this violence: read Why isn’t New Orleans Mother’s Day parade shooting a ‘national tragedy’? and Bloody Sunday for why. It makes me all the more grateful to Jody Christopherson for the video that we’ve been working on together for Gun Control Theatre Action–more on that very soon.

Day 13, 525: Many Hands Make Light Hearts–After the performance of Honey Fist last night, a mini-reunion of Ajax in Iraq broke out, and as the Flux Creative Partners began changing over the set to Sans Merci, we suddenly found ourselves joined by Mike Mihm, Sol Crespo and Chinaza Uche from Ajax, as well as Jodi Witherell and Nat Cassidy who have helped on almost every change over. It felt more like a party than a change over, and many hands made for light work and heart full of light. Thanks, guys.

What small things did I do the past two days to help build the Honeycomb?

• Created the storyboard for a Margo Jones video we’ll be sharing at the TCG Conference–I’m so excited to  celebrate the legacy of this founding mother of the resident theatre movement.
• I sent Rep. Crowley a message to thank him for co-sponsoring the King-Thompson bill to require background checks for all commercial gun sales.
• I worked box office and change over for Honey Fist.
• I urged the Senate to pass a bill so we can bring justice to the victims of sexual assault, and accountability to those who perpetuate these crimes.
• A woman in the street accidentally dropped a ton of change, and I stopped to help her pick it all up. I share this small thing, because I think this honeycomb discipline actually helped me stop and do the right thing.
• I told the Fish and Wildlife Service to protect Yellowstone’s grizzly bears.
• I ate vegetarian:)
• I added my voice your support for commonsense immigration reform that includes a roadmap to citizenship.
• I worked an additional 4 1/2 hours at TCG to prepare for the Conference, including posting some more Circle essays I’m psyched about.
• I sent an email to a friend I love in recovery from surgery.
• I congratulated a friend who is receiving career-making, jealousy-inducing reviews from major critics (which shouldn’t need to be on this list, but is for reasons I may share when more time presents itself).

I also failed to live up to my own standards when I:

• Was brusque with a Flux colleague over email because I’ve fallen behind on a press interview;
• Broke from conversation with an acquaintance without really ending the conversation well because I was feeling rushed to make a work deadline;
• Only emailed my brother on his birthday because I blinked and it was midnight and too late to call.

But hey, tomorrow is a new day, and it’s already tomorrow today.

Riding the Late Night Scooter

Day 13,523: Day of the Late Night Scooter (Why am I naming days?) (And what does it mean to “Help build the honeycomb?)

Yesterday, I worked at TCG from 9:00am to around 10:30pm–not anywhere near my longest TCG day on record, but not too shabby, either. I survived the 13+ hour day in surprisingly good spirits, in part due to feeling a strong sense of purpose in the work, and in part due to the similar stamina and passion of some of my co-workers.

But what really got me through the day?

My former colleague Jenni Werner survived Conference-time in part by purchasing several office scooters, those foot-powered pretties that abound in Google offices. I promised myself that if I could make it past 10pm, I’d allow myself a joyride through the office. And there is something so silly about a grown man careening around an office on a scooter that made me laugh all day thinking about it, and then laugh even harder as I did my speedy, late-night laps.

I share this because no amount of building the honeycomb is worth losing that sense of absurd, joyful, child-like play; without it, burn out and bitterness are just around the corner. Hence, Day of the Late Night Scooter.

What other small things did I do yesterday to help build the Honeycomb?

• I located a nearby plastic bag recycling center to recycle the plastic bags in which my New York Times weekend subscription is delivered (I try to avoid all other plastic bags, which can make for an amusing challenge in NYC).  Though I also recycle the newspaper itself, I’m not sure any print subscription is environmentally justifiable–any green folks out there with thoughts on this?
• I sent the following petition to President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono of Indonesia, Minister of Forestry Zulkifli Hasan, and Governor of Aceh Zaini Abdullah: As concerned citizens we urge you to reject the plan to cut down protected rainforests in Aceh.
• I shared this amazing news–go Minnesota!: Every single one of your friends needs to see today’s amazing news and join the push for equality in all 50 states. Share the image below on Facebook!
• I took time to thank in person a co-worker who celebrated a major milestone last night for his huge contributions to TCG, playwrights and the theatre field.
• I took action now to tell the North Pacific Fishery Management Council to establish the North Pacific’s first marine reserves and protect the Grand Canyons of the sea from damaging, shortsighted fishing practices.
• I posted more additions to the TCG Circle’s Artistic Innovation and Diversity & Inclusion series, and a new post about our awesome Global Connections program.
• I contacted my Senator to tell them to support strong conservation compliance provisions in the 2013 Farm Bill.
• I told a friend that took a break from social media after a rough patch that I was glad to see him back (and I am).
• I ate vegetarian (this one’s easy, as I’ve been doing it for the last 16 years, but it’s important to acknowledge because if everyone else did, too, it would make a profound difference to our planet’s sustainability. Also, this.)

And now it’s another day…scoot on.

Building the Honeycomb

“What small thing did I do to help build the Honeycomb.”
-Mac Rogers, The Honeycomb Trilogy

You will, I hope,  forgive my taking inspiration from the fictional band of hive-mind alien insects that invade and rule the earth (for a time) in Mac Rogers’ The Honeycomb Trilogy. But the phrase the bugs used to make sense of the value of their lives stuck with me. What small thing did I do help build the Honeycomb?

I appreciate the words “small thing” and “help build”, for I feel often overwhelmed by the wide array of violence and indifference on our quickly warming planet, and it is easy for that overwhelm to spill into inaction. Against those feelings of helplessness, “small thing” and “help build” can make a clear-eyed humility a spur to action. And while I don’t want to mistake a habit of small positive actions for the large leaps of courage that ending injustice frequently requires; at the very least developing that habit may make such leaps more likely.

So looking back at yesterday, May 12, what small things did I do to help build the Honeycomb?

• I worked with Jody Christopherson on her film for the Gun Control Theatre Action project. I can’t say more about this yet, but it could end up being a beautiful thing;
• I signed the petition: Tell Publix Super Markets’ CEO William Crenshaw to join the fight against slavery in the U.S. tomato industry;
• I assisted with the change-over between Sans Merci and Honey Fist (last week to see both plays!);
• I signed the petition: Back up Sen. Elizabeth Warren — become a citizen co-sponsor of her bill to give students the same ultra-low interest rates as big banks;
• I posted two new interviews for TCG’s Diversity & Inclusion series focused on Native theatre artists; and two essays on Artistic Innovation (and let me thank again the amazing Jacqueline E. Lawton and Caridad Svich for their inspiring leadership of these salons);
• I gave a well-deserved shout-out to Sol Crespo’s performance in the joyful and deeply felt production of Neon Baby at Pregones Theater (which you should indeed see);
• I called my own dear mother and contacted the other mothers in my family to wish them a Happy Mother’s Day.

I share these small acts as a means of increasing my own intentionality and accountability; for if, at the end of each day, I share what small things I did to help build the Honeycomb, I may be more likely to do so the next day. Maybe someone else will be inspired to do so, too.

For those reading this who haven’t seen or read The Honeycomb Trilogy, I hope you will have that opportunity soon; but until that time, when I borrow the words “build the Honeycomb”, they stand in for making the world a more peaceful, joyful, just and beautiful place. Small acts matter, both as themselves and as practice for greater acts of moral courage and compassion; and if nothing else, celebrating such acts, large and small, helps stave off the temptations of indifference and helplessness.

As written in the central text of my secular soul, which I have often quoted here and elsewhere:

 ”It is the shaping impulse of America that neither fate nor nature nor the irresistible tides of history, but the work of our own hands, matched to reason and principle, that will determine our destiny. There is pride in that, even arrogance, but there is also experience and truth. In any event, it is the only way we can live.”

Like

Like

Sometimes it just means hey
And sometimes it means I owe you an email
And sometimes it means it was so great seeing you last night at the show, and then at the bar, and thank you for staying even though you were tired and have to work early

And sometimes it means I like the way you look in my feed but
Other times it means fuck off
And why haven’t you given to my Kickstarter yet?

And other times it means I’m so sorry for your loss
Or so happy for your happiness
Or we were young together once, remember?
Or yes, your kid is just as cute as you believe your kid to be

And there are times it means I love you but don’t say it enough
And there are times it means I love you and say it too much

And I like the way you tweak that meme
the way we hate the same things
love  the same songs
and rage rage rage like we’re changing the world and
I like that sometimes we do (change it)

And there are times it means I wonder about you
And there are times it means, wonder about me
And there are time it means hold on a sec, I have to like this quote from Martin Luther King/this cat on a Roomba/this grumpy cat/this cat dressed as a dog/this dog dressed as Hitler/who is dying in a bunker/and maybe if we all click like/the way kids clap for Tinkerbelle/no one will ever die at all/no one/not ever/and especially not the cats

And I like your birthday even though you’re dead and
Sometimes I’m so afraid of dying
Of bombers and guns and loneliness and bird flu and meteors crashing over Russia and income inequality and prison industrial complexes and rich people and the war on terror and the war on drugs and the war and the war and the war like like like like like like like that’s better

Sometimes it means I like your new haircut
And sometimes it means I don’t
Sometimes it means, let’s be petty together
And sometimes it means, let’s don’t

And it can mean kiss
And it can mean touch
And it can mean nothing
Or way too much

Like when it means: we are all the life there is and was and ever will be in the whole wide universe, right here and now on this infectious rock teetering around our temporary star, so please let me be good to you, and you be good to me, and those are the times it also means
Take this joy from me, would you, a little,  because I can’t hold on, it’s too much

And then it means help
Because I can not see where there is to get to
So share your pictures from your trip to New Hope/down the shore/upstate/Barcelona
Share and like, like and share, and if you comment, baby
Well then you best comment true

And sometimes I do mean it
I mean I like it
Just that just
I like it
So I do

Playing Up

I’m a far better basketball player than I have any right to be. Growing up, my best friend Josh Koopman–who was taller, faster and stronger–would school me day after day in our one-on-one games. It can sure be humbling to play your absolute best and still not come out on top, but while I didn’t always like getting beat, it stretched me way beyond my meager athletic abilities into a halfway decent player.

I remember thinking about this last year when my science fiction play DEINDE went up at the same space, and around the same time, as The Honeycomb Trilogy by Mac Rogers. Just as Josh could beat me at least three different ways–off the dribble,  posting up,  shooting threes–it felt as if Mac’s three very different science fiction plays were running a dunk competition while I was over-thinking free throws. I remember viscerally wishing as I walked into Blast Radius, “please be good but not too good.” And of course, nothing but net.

But here’s the thing: the first thing I did was love Mac’s plays. The second thing I did was envy them, and the extraordinary passion and devotion they inspired. The third thing I did? I got better. Each play taught me moves to the basket that I didn’t already know.

Now, I’m at it again, with my play Honey Fist in rep with Johnna Adams’ Sans Merci. I love my play, I love the work Kelly and her team are doing, but I can’t even make it through the stage directions of Sans Merci without weeping from their beauty. She’s just that good. Johnna’s career is also taking off, with her amazing play Gideons’ Knot getting produced all over the country (I wouldn’t be surprised if it makes the Top 10 Most Produced list next year) and Sans Merci has already sold twice as many tickets as Honey Fist and we haven’t even opened the plays!

So I have a hunch I may get dunked on again, but…I noticed some new moves in pages that I wrote for my new writer’s group this week. They felt familiar, and of course they did: I learned them from watching Sans Merci spin mercilessly towards the basket.

And this is why I am so lucky to live in NYC and play with such extraordinary artists. They make me better, and truthfully, if I ever did somehow find myself the best at the game, I’d find a new one to play.

Why Am I Vegetarian?

When asked this question, I usually tell the funny story about how my friend Liz Dailey sired me as a veggie in college by showing me one of those shocking “how meat is made” pamphlets; at which I scoffed, and said, “that had no effect on my whatsoever.” I then went to our college cafeteria where, after being greeted by Lunch Lady Bernie, the only person who has ever called me William (my real first name), I took one look at the dead Pennsylvania mammal flesh under the warming lights and haven’t eaten meat since.

If that gets a laugh, I then sometimes segue into the reasons I stayed a vegetarian, which have more to do with how I value consciousness and compassion. I say sometimes, because this second part often makes both me and the listener a little uncomfortable, the way talking about faith often does.

But now I’m afraid I will be terribly tempted to answer that question by reading this gorgeous, humane quote from Henry Beston:

“We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours, they are more finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other Nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth.”

That quote alone would be enough to merit a post in praise; that Beston wrote that while living on Cape Cod–my hometown–in 1926 fills me with a rightness and a joy. I couldn’t wait to leave the Cape when I was a kid; then O’Neill, then Stanley Kunitz and Mary Oliver, now this; their words return the Cape to me as something precious; like if I ever returned to stay (which I don’t intend), I would know how to live there again as if it could be home.