Dear Pen Friend,

I wish you good morning from cold, very windy NYC. I have to venture out into it later, but I would rather stay holed up inside! A few days ago was a stunning early spring day, though, so I’m attempting to remember the loveliness of that so that the heaviness that has settled in my heart isn’t “parking and barking” all day inside my head.

Do you know that term “Park and Bark”? It’s one of my favorite musical theatre terms. It means for the actress (or actor, but from now on the male gender will be implied, kay?) to stand in one place and sing her song. It’s harder to do than it sounds, but when it’s done well, it’s one of the most effective tools in the trade. The audience gets to hear a story told simply, and the actress is stripped down to having to tell the tale without bells and whistles to hide behind. Essentially she stands and uses her voice to communicate what is in the character’s heart. (And, if she’s lucky, she also gets a lot of awesome technical support in the form of sound, lights, costumes, direction, great arrangements played by great musicians, etc.!)

I spent many years in classes learning how to Park and Bark well. Sometimes, though, when my heart is heavy, I do it too well inside my head for my own well-being. When I don’t have a listener, I use that skill against myself. Then, my head and my heart get stuck in a loop, and the repetition is hard to take because neither know what to do about the situation. So, instead, can I tell you my story today? Then maybe I can stop telling it to myself… And, relax, I’m not asking you for a solution. Just a listening ear.

But, first, a moment of fun from this week. I was on my way to meet an old friend, and as I was crossing the street, I saw Joel Grey! Do you know who he is? If not, treat yourself and look him up. (He also lives part-time on The Web. I’m sure Google knows where.) Anyway, I genuflected to him, for which he laughed and waved the gesture aside (sweetly), and then we hugged and I thanked him for being him. He’s someone whose work I’ve admired for as long as I can remember. He’s created some things that have improved my world, so it was fun to share my gratitude with him on a sunny day in The City.

And THEN, I ran into one of my favorite peers in The Biz. (I mentioned I came to NYC to follow my dream of “making it” on Broadway, right?) She was one of the first girls I met when I moved here to start that crazy journey. She’s a bit younger than I, but she’s always been a few steps ahead of me in life, and I find she’s been as much a guide to me, as peer. Quite simply, she’s an inspiration to me – and has been for over twenty years. So, I’m always so excited whenever I’m fortunate enough to have a moment of her time. This encounter was no exception – although her heart is heavy, too.

Do you know about the canaries in the coalmines? Miners used to bring them into the mines in order to monitor the air quality. If the canaries sang, all was well. When the singing stopped, the miners needed to leave the toxic air, or they’d soon die from poisonous gases that were accumulating.

I feel like artists are a society’s canaries. When the environment is safe, we freely sing and create songs that float through the air, touching those they pass. Some may like our songs. Some may not, but either way, it was just a little something out in the world to let those without sensitivity to certain toxins know that ‘All is safe for you to keep mining here. Air is good!’

I’m sad, Pen Friend. Our canaries have begun to stop singing – me included sometimes. Every once in a while I can find a pocket of good air where it’s safe for me to create my songs, but mostly my voice stays pretty silent these days. And the same is now true for my Sweet Inspiration peer friend. Despite a very successful career for 20 years, for the past 2 years she hasn’t been able to get a job. It’s been almost 5 years for me now. (That’s the first time I’ve written that. Ouch! That was painful to admit.) Oh, I get close to jobs sometimes still. She does, too. But “close” kind of makes it worse. I wonder if Joel Grey ever went through times like this. I wish I’d asked him. Maybe next time.

I guess I’m grieving the loss of the career I used to have right now. I’ve been sitting here deluding myself that I still have that career, but five years without income from it would kind of indicate otherwise, don’t you think, Dear Pen Friend? It’s almost like I’ve been living with a corpse constantly beside me, and not acknowledging it is there. But it’s time to see it. And then I have to decide what to do with it now that I know it’s dead. I’ll let you know how that goes.

It’s difficult, though. I liked making my living as an actress in the theatre with a healthy side of singing gigs that were varied and kept me challenged and busy. I wasn’t able to survive 100% on my acting/singing income all the time, but there were many spans of time where there were enough jobs and opportunities that I could often carve out a living that way. Now in order to pay the bills my current best option is to be tethered to a chair, inside a box without windows, and unable to fully stretch my legs out in front of me without my feet encountering a thin metal cubical wall. I feel like I’m on a flight to Mars – in the worst coach seat possible – and the environment is filled with re-circulated air that has become toxic to my lungs. I’m grateful to have a job, but I mourn for the life I used to enjoy. (As an aside, I’m not one of those people eager to fly to Mars. I’ve done some long flights, but that one is definitely outside of my personal range. You?)

Anyway, my lack of work – or my Sweet Inspiration peer’s – hasn’t been totally surprising to me. I’ve been watching this whole thing transpire for decades now. Aside from the fact that I’m over 40 and the amount of available jobs in The Biz are significantly fewer for women after that age, The Arts are not valued by people in the U.S. as something that should be protected – and paid for. The society I live in has been diminishing and dismantling The Arts scene for my entire life.

When I first became an actress in the early 90s, I had hundreds of theatres to audition for each and every year – dozens of auditions each month. I had to choose which auditions to attend some days because there were so many of them. (Last year I had 6 auditions. Six. All year.) Back then there were jobs to be had, and many of them even paid a living wage! (That had already begun to decline before I entered the scene here in the 90s, but there was still enough to tap into in order to carve out a successful career.) Most of those jobs are gone now, and with Arts funding continually on the chopping block each and every day in local, state, and federal budgets, it’s only going to further contaminate the already toxic air I’m trying to sing in.

My Sweet Inspiration peer framed her story this way: “If I were in a relationship with someone who only truly showed me love about every 5 years, and the rest of the time strung me along, treated me horribly, ignored me, and then abused me again and again, you’d applaud me when I ended the relationship for myself.” She’s right. I would. “I feel like that’s been my career, and I’ve had enough. I’ll sing when people call and ask me to, but I’m not pursuing this anymore,” she said in closing.

I had a very similar discussion regarding my own career with someone just days earlier. The words “Stockholm Syndrome” floated around during that convo.

Oddly, my saying it about me didn’t hit me as hard as hearing her say it about herself. I don’t want her to stop pursuing “The Biz”. Selfishly, only. Of course I want her to do what will make her life the best for her. It’s just that I love her voice and how she uses her heart to tell a story. I can’t imagine a world where I don’t get to hear and see her continually blossom and bloom and flourish – as I’ve been fortunate to do for the past 20 years. But I get it. This canary, too, has by and large stopped singing. And I miss it. And I feel like I’m losing the opportunity to hear my own voice blossom and bloom and flourish with each day that I stay silent.

So I’ve turned to making up what feel like are little “Hymns” to me. I sing them when I need to some soothing. Do you ever sing little songs to yourself? I like ones that are fairly simple and I enjoy picking one and singing it in a loop until I feel better. The one I’m giving you today is about my bedroom – my favorite place on this entire earth. I hope you like it. And thank you – as always – for listening. I hope you’re singing up a storm where you are! Having your ear helped this canary to feel safe to sing a bit today.

HYMN #1 – To This Sanctuary
To this sanctuary I come.
It helps me undo what life has done.
When I feel sad.
When I feel trapped and blue.
This is the place that I can run home to.

Then it’s to this sanctuary I come.
It helps me undo what life has done.
When I feel sad,
When I don’t know what to do.
This is the place that I can run home to.

Then it’s to this sanctuary I come.