I remember the first time I walked into the auditorium; it seemed so magical. I was filled with admiration, excitement and angst as I rushed to take a seat where I could.
I didn’t understand the power of where I would choose, how it would affect the way I see the stage, the actors and how this place would influence my place in the whole production. Regardless of the consequences of my decision, I had chosen the back of the auditorium. It was where my friends were, it was a place to have fun while we shared our angst and boredom; sometimes we were caught and punished and most of the time, we were too cool for school and got away with our mischief.
Time had passed like the years, and I became frustrated with my perspective. I was unable to hear the production and unable to truly appreciate the actors and their talents. I began to slouch in my chair and impatiently wait for a time when I could pick up and move to a better seat. As more time passed, the production began to loose it’s meaning, I was unable to hear the stories and feel the characters. I was sitting so far away where I had begun to become so comfortable with the background music that was being played around me.
Finally one year, as my frustration took over, I got up from my seat and decided that I was ready to walk out of the auditorium and would return only when I was ready to sit where I wanted to all along, but was too scared too.
As the doors opened to exit the auditorium, my hands began to shake and I become overcome by fear; so much so that I had forgotten how to walk or do anything. So I did the only thing I thought was possible, I fell, hard! I fell deep within the fabric of the outside world. I fell so deep I was able to see some magical things deep within the cusp of the different.
I saw the beauty that the sun was offering the plants and the beauty in the sky. The moon was wonderful too; the solstice was good to me.
I wondered deep within the unknown, not sure who I even was. I had spent so much time trying to fit in while watching the production that I hadn’t searched within myself. I crawled, I learned to walk, I fell again, I walked, I ran, and I fell some more.
Finally, as my magical journey had prepared me to renter the auditorium, I walked into the same room; but it looked different, really different. The seats seemed smaller than they were when I left. I walked deeper into the auditorium fascinated with the beauty inside. The lights, the structures, the writing on the walls I never knew existed. The beauty in the seats, how incredibly wonderful it all really was.
I walked deeper than I could see from where I had chosen to sit years before; before I knew it I turned to see where my loves were, and noticed they were all gone. I wasn’t scared anymore, I wasn’t intimidated anymore. I looked around at the unfamiliar and took an empty seat in the middle where the view felt just right. I watched the same production as the actors were louder than they were when I left. I could see them clearly, and it made me feel great.
I looked around in fascination and admiration, all the falls had prepared me for this moment. I had taken a seat that truly made me feel amazing. This production was more than it was when I had left. I looked up and realized that I had found my serenity in the seat of appreciation. I knew this was not where I would be for the whole production, but for now, it was where I wanted to be.
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.”
A poem by Nivie Dhami