A Long Adjustment

 She sat up still, indefinitely slipping into the pressure to only exist positively in the minds of others- a place that she scarcely existed at all. I think it’s a pressure she found comfort in though. It’s comforting when the pressure is to work up to pleasing others and not herself, be that in attraction or in kindness. She was past sourcing approval from herself.

Eventually she would rise and scrub herself raw under steam and scalding water: a new skin for a new day. She would anoint the new skin with her oils and creams, letting it be christened in scent and protection.

She has to romanticise morning time like this. Quotes of saints and clever thinkers had always lined her walls and her mind. This is how you get ready when you’ve grown up in your head: you’re annoying.

Whether this was a day at work or a day of self, she’d wear a uniform. Either the colours of whatever theatre or drowning her figure in long skirts previously owned by some woman and a large t shirt previously owned by some man.

Her hair fell too close to the bottom of her spine, she realised, as she fiddled with it incessantly. Still, she wore it the only way she new how, drew wings around her eyes and orange smudged along her cheeks. Getting ready was this ritual- a ritual of performing the same tasks but hoping the outcome would prove her worth differently each day.

Sounds all a pretentious morning, but she doesn’t have all the potential for pretence. Hours are filled on her phone: the app with the videos and the app with the swiping, the website with the letters, the pages with the politics. She sits and lets her brain hum and whir in the buzz of the screen- it’s easier to sit here distracted. It’s fun for now and its ok that it’s fun.

The incense burning was suffocated out the air by the aromas of expectation and defeat. This is her childhood room with her broken childhood bed and her broken childhood wardrobe. The wardrobe that spilled out into the floor, the hall and the garage. She formed attachment to the clothes she bought to hide in. Enough fabric to sail a ship.

She spent weekends running away to see successful friends in different cities, trying to rebuild the confidence she’d let boys snort away. She would get too intoxicated on validation or substance and drift further from herself for another week. Skint of course.

She spent her mornings in this period of adjustment, adjustment from dream to reality and from panic to motion. It was a deciding point- would this be a good day or a bad day. We know it’s not that deep and it will be likely be neither. She thinks about what she knows and what she doesn’t have to decide.

She knew her younger sisters are extensions of herself, growing into better and more beautiful forms of how she was. It was one of the things she knew to be true and one of the things that made her happiest. She’s struggling to listen to music as lyrics remind her of situations she won’t experience. The Moon and Me plays for the hundredth time that week and she basks in the nonsense of the album.

She might not have much going for herself right now, but she’s nurturing and affirming the fact that this is a much-needed time. In other words, she’s repeating pointless words in her head and staring at washing on the line.

Whether she eats or doesn’t eat are just as relevant as each other. She drinks water and it’s stale. She sits at her desk and the water sits on her tongue, as she adjusts to the beginning of the day.

Preparing for the Full Moon

 Blood Moon May 26^th!!!!! Beginner's Guide!!!!

Just want to start off by saying I have no substantial qualification to be talking about this at all really- the moon is just a big love of mine. I do actually *surprisingly!!* get a lot of questions on what I do to prepare for and celebrate a full moon. It is a night of setting manifestations into action, whilst curating direct and specific affirmations to help the groove of the lunar cycle flow.

Tomorrow is the full blood moon in Sagittarius. This is thought of as a night of revelations, epiphanies and endings. It’s known as the ‘Super Flower Blood Moon Eclipse’ (long name but nothing scary) and indicates that change is coming. I think with Uni and school ending, and lockdown lifting, we can welcome this as the perfect time to affirm positive change and new routine.

Before any judgement comes, I think being in tune with the moon’s schedule is one of the most grounding things you can do, whether you believe in its power and prowess or not. Regulating your goals, mood and strength on (at least) fortnightly occasions only elevates your emotional education and self-awareness. I think, alongside a strong sense of empathy, self-awareness is one of the most important traits to have. Use Wednesday’s full moon to harness and deepen your capacity to be self-aware. It’s fun to get dressed up and have a drink too… Here’s what I’ll be doing:

Journaling

This is your time for introspection: a pen, a blank piece of paper and a stream of consciousness. If you have a special notebook for this occasion, it’s known as your Book of Mirrors… a journal of reflection.

Any notebook will do- this step is absolutely essential to a full moon routine. I like to use poems as journal prompts, as they are open to emotional interpretation and I find it easier to relate to myself through the words of someone else (Anne Sexton is the one.) But prompts don’t have to be literary, I sometimes just pick one word, write it in the centre of my page and sprawl thoughts around it. This should be a word summing up how you’ve been feeling in the past weeks, an emotional trigger or key word. Just use it to stimulate thoughts and write for as long as you need. Full sentences are not necessary.

I think the most useful form of introspective writing is shadow work; I’ll write about this soon.

Rituals

‘Rituals’ sound scary but they don’t have to be. Here’s something easy you can do each month to help affirm what you’ve learnt from this cycle and what you’re aiming for in the next.

Light a white candle for peace and guidance. Take a blank sheet of A4 and on one side, write what you wish to let go of: bad habits and negative thought patterns. Use what you just written in your journal for inspiration if you need. Read it carefully and feel it deeply. This is what you are banishing.

Next, turn the paper over and write what you want to bring in: healthy habits and positive thought patterns. The more specific you are, the more accurate your affirmations will be. Read it all and take it in, you should be feeling what you’re writing. This is what you’re welcoming, and affirming.

Go outside with your white candle and burn the sheet corner by corner. You should be burning it over a bowl to catch the ashes. Once done, leave the bowl outside under the full moon. It’ll be under the moon’s energy and your affirmations will charge.  

Meditation

Time is privilege. But if you have it, 10 minutes of meditation (guided or free) will benefit your night. I don’t do anything fancy as I struggle to sit still for long. Take space on your floor or bed, or desk, and light a candle. At the moment, I’m planning for next year, so I’ll be lighting a green candle for success, career and drive. Put on instrumental music or chakra frequency and focus on breathing, your body and your space. Bask in your ritual and what you will be welcoming. Tune into the words you wrote and the goals you are manifesting. It’s hard but try and feel present if you can.

Moon Water

If you have/ use crystals this is very important. Here’s your time to charge your gems and rocks. Use the light and energy of the moon, and the affirmations/manifestations you have studied to energise your stones for use. I fill a silver bowl with water, place the crystals in the bath and leave it one my windowsill to charge under moonlight. In the morning, keep the water in a bottle or jar as it can be used for other occasions, or ready to be strengthened when the next full moon rolls around.

If you are new to crystals, get yourself some lapis lazuli (third eye abilities), amethyst (protection), rose quartz (relationships) and carnelian (strength). You’ll thank me for it.

Research

Imposter syndrome exists in witches too! (Btw I am not a witch I am a poser.) But what I mean is that it can be intimidating to get involved in the lunar cycle, due to the volume of info and criticism out there. Just know that you’re doing the right thing by dedicating a night to the moon here- she’ll appreciate it 😉.

If you’re feeling lost or intimidated though, there’s so much out there to help you. To start off, you can read this post of course. Watching youtubers or influencers isn’t really my buzz for this night, as I’m conscious of imitating people when I want this to an individualised journey. But, if you’re not fussed, get on YouTube and watch a ‘full moon routine’ or two and take some notes (in your Book of Mirrors of course.)

Apps can help too and they’re free! ‘Stone’ is for all your crystal needs (‘very user friendly’- Hannah Sears-Black) and 'Time Passages' keeps you in check with astrology.

Must be the English student in me, but books are my preferred way to research a full moon night. Here are some I have on my makeshift altar, definite recommendations:

·       The Book of Magic- Brian Copenhaver

·       Old Wives’ Tales- Mary Chamberlain

·       Sacred Self Care- Chloe Isidora

·       The Green Witch- Arin Murphy-Hiscock

·       The Crystal Healer- Phillip Permutt

Of course, there are extra things you can do. Tarot readings, sex and spells are also welcomed on a full moon, but be careful with those... I hope this post rounds up the basics-  have the most wonderful night however you celebrate, see you on the New Moon (10^th June).

Pinter Theatre’s Uncle Vanya: Chekhov’s reminder to keep going as our second lockdown hits

The first time we went into lockdown (sad to be even typing 'first time') I remember seeing an instagram post likening the situation to a Chekhov play: nothing happens, we just sit round drinking vodka. For this tiny reason, his dramas are synomonyous with lockdown, but this one is particularly so.

I was in sixth form when I realised he was my favourite writer. We were studying The Seagull and my mind was blown by the intrinsic style of drama- how every line penetrates the events, how every character is entrapped in the complexities of their motivation. A lot of time has passed since then, and my admiration for the Russian naturalist has only grown stronger, with forensic study of him at university and reading and research in my free time. I went to watch this year’s Uncle Vanya on a whim, having only read it once. If I’m honest, I was just keen to make the most of the cinemas before their imminent closure on Thursday. But, it completely knocked me for six- a piece of theatre hasn’t touched me like that in a long time.

Despite my tears at the play’s tragedy, there was definite reassurance in having such a strong reaction, as the theatre we know’s future is uncertain. This particular production was stopped mid rehearsals in March; it was an icon of the pandemic’s disruption and the government’s negligence. It was uncertain whether or not it would ever be performed. The decision was made to keep its staging at the Harold Pinter Theatre, but there would be no inside audience, just crew and a camera man. It would instead be streamed to cinemas nationwide. This alters the play’s dramaturgical symptoms: the rigidity of naturalism's compulsory fourth wall is disrupted and softened slightly, as you’re hyper aware that you’re watching theatre without audience, with actors performing soliloquy like sequences directly to a camera lens. This disturbance to Chekhov’s routine only makes the translation of Vanya’s modern implications more relevant, more haunting.

The play takes place on a provincial estate, with an esteemed, but pretentiously stupid, professor visiting. He ends up staying and residing- altering the lives of all living there ever so slightly, but also absolutely completely. The titular Vanya (Toby Jones) is a hilarious, sarcastic and quickly intelligent man in his late 40s, but a strong depression has lulled him into a state far beneath his potential. His life is one of the play’s tragedies. The professor (Roger Allam) was married to Vanya’s beloved sister, and they had a beloved daughter, Sonia (stellar performance from Aimee Lou Wood). The professor leaves Sonia in Vanya’s care and they work tirelessly to keep the estate running with the accounts in surplus. Sonia shares a love interest with her new stepmother, the beautiful, sad and enigmatic Yelena: handsome philanthropist-come-hedonist Doctor Astrov (Richard Armitage). The play orbits their little dramas over about a year’s period, until the devastating climax in the final act. 

Lou Wood’s Sonia is heart breaking. Her character doesn’t change, as much as Chekhov feeds you more about the person behind her tireless empathy and you discover her not to be innocent, but just as violently depressed as her uncle. But she is a voice of hope, of strength, and her relevance to our current time is palpable. Her and Vanya are stuck in the same house, doing the same things, whilst watching (and assuming that) everyone close to them have change in their life. They both experience crushing unrequited love, only strengthening their love and willingness to cope for each other.

Chekhov’s writing aligns with Stanislavski’s method: every line written and spoken holds an objective direct to the character’s arching agency. This means his characters can transpose time, their intentions involve other characters but are not particular to the socio-political climate, history or technology of the time. Despite being late 19^th C, his realism is not that of a history play. This production applies directly to now.

Its relevance is perfect. At its time of composure the creatives were not aware that it was going to be staged to a country on the brink of its second lockdown. It is one of the most raw, visceral and brutally accurate depictions of domestic depression I’ve encountered, on stage or screen or page.  Sonia’s final lines, about the need to push through and how to persevere, should be broadcast nationally. I was in floods of tears as the play ended, but left with a calming hope. Doctor Astrov incessantly refers to the comfort he finds in thinking of people 200 years from him ridiculing and making light of the tribulations of 19^th C life. This message holds true to now: remembering your macro insignificance to micro importance to those close to you is a key to getting through the struggles facing us all in November- it relieves the mass pressure Boris and co are criminally shifting our way. Sonia’s empathy is her strongest virtue and saviour, and it should be ours as well.

(Also, shout out to the elderly gentleman on my row in the cinema who offered me his hankie and a minstrel when I started crying. Appreciate it.)

Sea Wall Film: a short review

There is little point me attempting to write a synopsis of Sea Wall- I feel incapable as I’m not clever enough to sum it all up. The play’s official description says it best as a ‘uniquely intimate portrayal of humanity’. It is a masterful and honest monologue, written by Simon Stephens and performed by Andrew Scott, perhaps the two most talented men in their fields right now. Scott plays Alex, a man telling stories of his life’s little joys and great tragedy- he is completely open to whoever’s watching. His stories are written and told in flurries of words placed perfectly in tandem feeling, and rhythm.

Stephens once came into my school, to do a talk, and he was unforgettably fascinating and inspiring. I went home, googled him and found a 2009 Guardian review of Sea Wall at the Edinburgh Fringe. I remember the writer coining the performance ‘the most devastating 30 minutes’ you’ll ever have in the theatre. I still remember that phrase.

It is a ‘devastating’ play, but it is significant now that the devastation isn’t in a theatre. This pandemic has removed theatre, the concept, from theatre, the place. It has meant that new meanings are cast onto archived pieces of work and Sea Wall encapsulates how and why this has been successful. Watching Scott’s performance as Alex feels so centred, so direct and almost personal. This filmed version of the play isn't a live performance recording, but a film in itself that was released in 2o11. Now it can be streamed on YouTube. In this rare chance, theatre can exist accessibly as one person talking to one person listening. The residual symptoms of watching a play are eradicated and I think this makes it more intense, more true.

The way Stephens writes love, life and God makes you really, really feel something. Humanity is in one sentence ‘completely falling inside [oneself]’ and in the next merely a ‘bit of meat and air’. The rugged juxtaposition of the poetic against the literal grants Sea Wall the ability to be both grounded in a reality and elevated in concept. Stephens is able to sum up the giant philosophical pillars of existence into anecdotes about supermarket shopping, and it works really beautifully.

Scott is perfectly cast. Watching him breaks you out of any consciousness that you’re watching someone act, or even speak. His fluidity and rhythm convinces you that you’re just watching a person be. You’re entranced by his story: who Alex is, what he’s been through, or why he has chosen to tell you. The openness is so raw and so moving. Scott’s performance is dynamic, like the ambiguity of Stephens’ writing. You’re witnessing an existence that is both transient and permanent.

Sea Wall is available to watch until the 25^th of May

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j01kVmBoJW0

The Five Stages of: UK Lockdown

Having just turned the grand old age of 20 as we went into 'lockdown', I shortly embarked on a quarter-life crisis... I didn't know what to with myself, now as an adult stuck in my childhood bedroom with nothing to do. I did eventually get out of being selfishly stressed out- there is more to life than missed internships and cancelled festivals. I broke down how I was feeling into the generic 'Five Stages of *insert trauma here*', and it helped. This is an incredibly tough, weird Orwellian time that we're all in together.

1. Denial

No doubt, you sat watching the peroxide coloured man we call a Prime Minister announce lockdown in his 17:30 broadcast, and feel something like the world shattering around you. It was, of course, the right call to make and should have happened earlier. However, it is daunting to have to put every bit of your working, social and academic lives on hold for, well we don’t know how long for. It’s safest to space out and believe it’s not happening! Simply just ignore the piles of emails and attempted 'zooms' from professors, never learn what ‘furlough’ actually is and turn your phone off for a week. Deny, deny, deny…

2. Anger 

Turns out there is a limited time frame on attempting to drown out the world in crisis with TikTok. It’s time to wake up from the blissful haze of ignorance and realise that we are in a big old mess! You now watch the news like it’s a crime drama to binge and begin to spiral: spiral deep down into a tangled web of conspiracy theory, sceptical online ‘newspapers’ and angry, angry twitter threads (from your Grandad in my case). Blaming grossly rich societal figureheads (Richard Branson/Tim Martin/Victoria Beckham) for the state of our country becomes your new hobby, and tea with your family resembles those old white men booing over each other in parliament. You don’t actually know know what is going on (because who does?), but boy, are you angry about something. Very angry- thank goodness for your daily walk because it’s keeping you sane.

3.  Bargaining

I don’t think this particular stage will ever be one to get over- the stage of the ‘What Ifs’: what if lockdown hadn’t happened? The anger has melted away as, unlike a middle-aged woman (a ‘Karen’ most likely) you can’t stay full of rage for too long. Now, you’ve moved onto reminiscing life pre-lockdown. This is a highly dangerous period of vastly over romanticising anything you've ever experienced. Rogue nights out fizz in your memory as wild adventures, slogs in the library are remembered as eureka moments and hungover shifts are dazzling career highlights in your foggy recollection. In this weird time of home imprisonment, anything before it seems like a past life lived in a perfect, effervescent dream state. In reality, it was just fine. But, if it’s going to take living retrospectively to get you through the day then I think that’s okay.

 4. Depression

It’s very important to not use this term too lightly. Feeling ‘depressed’ isn’t some castaway adjectival phrase, it’s a medical condition. In the case of these stages of lockdown, I took it to mean the almighty grogginess we’ve all become victim to. Motivation has been sucked out of our systems like the last dregs of a McDonalds milkshake though those paper straws. You’re sleeping in and then staying up, succumbing to the routine of an indecisive insomniac. It's hard to be productive (whatever that means) when you've forgotten what you're working towards. As long as you’re looking after yourself and others, I don’t think one can have too many duvet days. They’re good for the soul.

5. Acceptance 

And... before you know it, you’ve reached the final stage: accepting that you have no clue on how to do things, and that is ok! Making a playlist for every single possible mood is a successful use of your time, it is ok if you didn’t run 5K in 20 mins and it is more than fine if you don’t have a politically intelligent and ethically mindful opinion for everything that’s happening (*yawns*). It is enough to just be. Message your family, talk to your friends and get outside if you can. Notice your privileges and look out for those around you who aren’t safe to just 'stay at home'. Coming to accept that you’re living through such a strange and upsetting time is hard, so congratulations. Lockdown? You’ve completed it mate.

Places to donate to those who need it:

https://www.nhscharitiestogether.co.uk/

https://www.trusselltrust.org/make-a-donation/

https://donate.refuge.org.uk/page/51133/donate/1

https://www.refuge.org.uk/get-help-now/help-for-men/

https://www.mind.org.uk/donate/

https://england.shelter.org.uk/donate?reserved_appeal_code=20190401-DF-10&gclid=CjwKCAjwkun1BRAIEiwA2mJRWYU46TbJHbAygBeZfq4Lc_uM8jbIsQ7nigKS98xQxFU8yn--TXN8pRoCf08QAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds

Normal People: an adaptation of beauty and pain in the noncommunicable

Just as a pre-warning, this is going to be one of those posts you are probably sick of after last weekend. It’s going to be a plea to watch Normal People as soon as you can, and hopefully an ode to its story that will make you want to do so.

I am relatively new to the world of Normal People. I was aware of Sally Rooney and the accolades she’s been (rightfully) showered with since the novel’s 2018 release, but I had never read her work. That was until World Book Day this year, on the train from Nottingham to Sheffield with nothing but my Kindle to keep me company. I downloaded the book out of the blue and devoured its contents. I soon realised that the book was becoming one of the best I had recently read: one of love, class and mental state in today’s climate. It is a tale heady with rich and incessant internal monologue from the two protagonists, Marianne and Connell. Their thoughts and feelings are communicated through Rooney and then to reader, rarely direct from character to character. When the news came of BBC Three’s adaptation I couldn’t wait, and my hopes were high- I love this story.

As a pair, Marianne and Connell are joined though circumstance, but their relationship is fractured by differences in class and social circle. They are somewhat only level in their intellect and attraction to each other. Behind (heavy) closed doors, the pair become close and feelings develop- but the politics, macro and micro, of their social situation create barriers. The pair go through immense feeling, whilst their lives move at the routine pace they are expected to. Rooney is dissecting the intoxicating percolation of the Irish class system into the minds of young people. The plot, dense with literary reference, echoes the mantra of 18^th Century dramatic realism: everything is happening to the person, whilst nothing is happening to the people.

The internalisation of such a delicately subtle plot is surely a challenge to translate from literature to television- it is rarely attempted. I wondered if there’d be constant voice-over playing, or something else obvious. There is no need though. The actors’ performances, the writing, the sound and the lighting of adaption weave into each other, creating a web that communicates Marianne (Daisy Edgar-Jones) and Connell’s (Paul Mescal) emotional developments. It builds beautifully, without leaving the viewer in need of a climax- we feel fulfilled to have seen and shared what we have with the two lovers. It is enough.

Whilst Rooney’s novel is great, this is one of the rare occasions when a TV adaptation is on par with, or perhaps surpasses its literary inspiration. The story feels very real, and I know I’m not alone in being unable to find the word to describe what it is that makes it feel so. The depictions of school and university are raw and gutting without overdramatising; it is the experience of ‘normal people’ and our everyday lives. Lenny Abrahamson’s direction is masterful and touching.

The production is incredibly tranquil- it is stripped back and ambient so the emotional power of the story can be communicated without question. There's one point that demonstrates this perfectly... Connell and Marianne are on a train and an acoustic cover of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ is playing: it creates a moment where the viewer and characters are being moved to the same conclusion. We are brought to the realisation that it is only love keeping the couple apart, as they have finally overcome other barriers. It feels freeing. As they physically move through Italian towns, they are understood to be moving through their fear of being together and it feels as though the song is being heard by them as well as us. It proves Normal People to be a perfect transference of storytelling, from page onto screen.

National Theatre Home: One Man, Two Guvnors

‘CRIMINALS, GANGSTERS, PRINCESS MARGARET’

In 2013, the National’s Olivier stage hosted Richard Bean’s One Man, Two Guvnors. It became The Performance that catapulted James Corden’s career and, of last Thursday, it became available for you to watch at home- on YouTube. Hailed as one of the best shows ever staged by the National Theatre, it works as a brilliant opener to the theatre’s efforts in solidarity from the arts.

Under Nicholas Hynter’s direction, the piece was an almighty hit. The play works as an English adaptation of the old and beloved, Servant of Two Masters- a piece of Italian commedia del’arte: one of the earliest forms of what we know today as pantomime , it’s a piece complete with exaggerated stock characters, gender swaps, mistaken identity and, of course, a love story. One Man, Two Guvnors has all this in abundance, but with a lovable British flair, making the well-known tale accessible to audiences up and down the country.

Corden stars as our ‘harlequin’ Francis, who gets tangled in a comedic web of lies and disguise. As the title suggests, he ends up being the one minder for two masters. The two masters are of course linked, but all is to be revealed- no spoilers here. He bursts onto the stage to deafening applause; his entire performance proves well deserved of the accolades he received. He argues a magnificent case for celebrity casting in theatre; the character of Francis is like bringing his Smithy onto stage and letting him run riot on the Olivier.

Set in 1960’s Brighton, the play humours the little drama of British suburbia. The piece is decked with racial, national and regional stereotypes- as the stock characters of commedia del’arte have been replaced with stock characters of little Britain: the spiv, the boarding school toff etc.. The writing’s vigour and self-awareness make it void of offence; it acknowledges the growing diversity of 60s Southern England and we laugh in its comedic nostalgia.

Ignoring Corden’s stardom, the writing of this play sure stands out as man of the match here. It is packed with punchy and hilarious one liners. Whilst watching, I had to keep pausing (one of the beauties of at home streaming) in order to scribble them down- they just kept coming! There’s a standout feminist prediction, stellar with dramatic irony, from bookkeeper Dolly (Suzie Toase). She says, ‘I predict in 20 years-time, they’ll be a woman in 10 Downing Street… and then you’ll see exactly what woman can do’, to rapturous applause, then says, ‘you’ll see a more just and fair society’, to rapturous laughter. Bean’s writing is at its best when it is directed straight at the audience. Each character has a continual monologue: a mocking of the Shakespearean soliloquy, and if there’s ever a stage to mock Shakespeare, it is sure to be the Olivier...

Its self-referentiality heightens the boisterous nature of the piece- it’s a play you won’t forget. It is sheer entertainment, and a treasure in the National’s chest. It has everything for theatre lovers, and everything for those new to plays. It has music, skits, audience participation (the famous Christine Patterson bit) and chases from wing to wing… It might be titled One Man, Two Guvnors, but it is not at all a one man show. It is a production bursting with masterful actors, who are masterful comedians. Despite streaming it at home, the show’s energy is palpable and you’re sure to laugh out loud. With the closing musical number singing out: ‘tomorrow looks good from here’, National Theatre Home has started a legacy- the perfect, and somewhat patriotic, effort at stirring optimism in the nation.

A link to where you can watch: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XzqcRwWVv8k