1st Al Anon meeting.

I went to my first Al Anon meeting last Sunday. I felt numb the entire time. It wasn't until a few hours later that I burst, and cried, but couldn't untangle all the emotions I was feeling.

The structure is something to get used to. I could barely hear the person's name, before everyone chanted "HELLO EMILY." And there were quite a few recitations from the Alcoholics Anonymous' 12 steps. There were two banners hanging on the wall listing all the steps and traditions. Something I couldn't get used to was the word "share." Every meeting begins with a "share," in which the leader of the group offers a personal story with a theme and lesson. Last week the theme was Surrender. My friend and I missed the "share," because we were intent on getting our coffee at Starbucks. We walked in late, with cups in hand. But I must say it was comforting to have warmth in my cupped palm; we were both so skittish about going. The meeting felt lacking without this beginning bit, which set the tone for every one's "share." Geez! I have an issue with that word: it seems to cheapen what someone says! Within all the all-female group, the bravery was strong. People shared some serious and personal stuff, and to call it a "share," as someone is opening up about her home life and crying, for maybe the first time in a while, or for the 5th time that day it seems weird to offer a thank you for her "share." What about: "thank you for having the strength to pour your heart out in front of us, we're here for you, that's why we're all collected in this room?" Maybe all of these sentiments are built into their "shares," and I should just get over it.

Anyhow, I've decided to go back to another meeting, at a different location, to seek out a different group. I won't give up yet. Most people I talk to say, go to about 3 and then decide if it's right for you. Still I felt more peace from the Against the Stream meditation.

Reflection on MY NAME IS RACHEL CORRIE

I went to this play about a month ago now, with my friend Kat, at the Theatricum Botanicum in Topanga Canyon. It was a one woman show called My Name is Rachel Corrie, played by Samara Frame. The LA Times reviewed it here.

I have less praise for Miss Frame, mostly because she is too old to play the 23 year old Rachel. Frame does have a lot of energy though, and she deserves credit there. But the pace of her speech is awfully fast and I had a hard time understanding the words, and I have read the play before.

I discovered it in college and was mesmerized. The play came to life on the page, although the staged version was much less transporting. I was much more moved by reading it rather than seeing it - a fault of the performance and directing I think. The stage was outdoors and had a background of the hillside and rocks, which served the story well and Miss Frame used the space and brought it to life.

As the audience filed into the benches and cuddled up with sweaters and blankets, Frame was already placed on the stage, hidden underneath a sleeping bag in a nighty and socks. The way the play begins, which is with an outburst, describing her room and scarlet red ceiling, lends to a physical outburst as well. It would have served Frame to be able to be off stage, doing one hundred jumping jacks instead of still and lying down. From there, she has to scrounge up the energy of a young woman and carry herself for an hour and a half leaping and projecting in the cold.

The video projections were a distraction to the story, minus the final projection of Rachel Corrie herself as a motivational speaker in the 5th grade. The LA Times agrees, saying the videos are "rudimentary."

There was a talk back after the applause, which was "mild" said the director and lead founder and financier, Emma Greer. I didn't find it mild in the least, with stories about being an Israeli soldier, and a woman who lost her whole family in Palestine, and many more war recounts. The tension was tight with comments from both sides. With the content of the play leaning towards the defenseless Palestinians and the bullies from Israel, the discussion echoed the same but with personal recounts. After all the play was a one woman show, edited together from a young girl's writings about her own individual experience.

Something that has stuck with me over the past month is the idea of self. Rachel Corrie felt the need to FIND herself, and so she chose to move to Palestine and stay in Gaza to help families preserve their homes from bulldozers. So much of her speeches are filled with questions of "Who am I? What is my purpose?"

I don't think I ever had that dilemma. I always felt myself to be very close, if not embodied. Rachel Corrie kept talking about herself as she were another, or as if she was something she had to go find and encounter. Instead I was always, and still am, trying to figure out what I will do. I associated myself with actions instead of philosophical musings. I wonder on a daily basis what the next step will be to feel accomplished and satisfied with my progress in aspects such as my career, self-worth, emotional advancement, and evolving knowledge. I can't remember a time when I was stuck inside myself, searching for who I was. It has always been "Where will I go? What am I doing today? Who will I meet to help me be more established?"

It's a slow process and frustrating. I feel I am on the verge of something lately. Something feels it's going to snap. But thank goodness I know who I am and what I am capable of. It must be scary to feel far away from who you are.