Yes.
There is a reason I chose this monologue
and
Yes.
It means something to me.
I was exposed to this poem, and several others, during my very first theater show as a freshman in highschool. I had done half-hazard lighting and props etc for my middle school's choral group but theater was a whim that first semester of high school. (That I was there, anyway- long story, but basically I wasn't around a lot in high school) I tried it because I had a lot of experience pretending to be someone I wasn't, and wanted to see a use of that skill in a more artfull fashion, honest practice. I never wanted to be on stage...the thought of assuming another personality terrified me...but I wanted to witness the magic.
This first show was Spoon River Anthology, by Edgar Lee Masters. This play is a series of monologues featuring the people, well...ghosts, of the city of Spoon River reflecting on life and death and every step in between. It was actually a rather heavy show for a group of high school students...the suicide monologue falling on a mere sophomore and the monologue featuring someone watching their father die fell to someone who would do the same in the following year.
The experience as a whole jolted me. Theater no longer became a whim, but a source of discovery of the world. Never underestimate the power theater has to show you the world, to show you yourself even. Its truths are mighty, and its presentation (when done correctly) can be life changing.
This show was life changing for me, at the first of many cross roads of my life. It was existential as much as my little 14 year old brain could handle at the time.
One particular monologue always struck me as being the heart of the show. It was performed by a-then senior who later told me he felt the same way about the monologue, especially after we competed with it at a state competition.
Why would a competition give it more power?
Because of how I lit the scene.
It was, appropriately, my first time using a light board. And also appropriate to this task of living life to the fullest? This board was in the Morsani Hall in Tampa Bay. (Google it-- its gorgeous and huge and high tech and an opportunity of a life time) The guy at the board who was supposed to be watching me had been there for 8 hours already and really needed a break. He showed me what the board was already set up to do, how to set my cues, and how to adjust should my actors wander (which, of course, they did...it was their first time on the stage!) During that, I noticed they had an odd light programed. It was down stage center, and focused straight down. (This is odd in the effect it creates) Also, to the stage up-right of this light another light was focused to travel through it and out into the audience. Why? I have no clue. But I was allowed to play around with it for about 20 minutes before our call.
While playing with it, I starting thinking to myself...I could really highlight some moments in this play with this new board. Its possibilities are endless. I chickened out at first...I was the ickle freshman at the new board. So I didn't talk to my stage manager ahead of time to show her my thoughts.
But when the show started, and that amazing cast of six actors hit their boards, I was enveloped in the experience all over again. I quietly got on the crew headsets and ask my poor stagemanager "Hey Jackie...mind if I try something with the lights"' I immediately hear two things: an unidentified gasp (later we found out the judges were listening to us and found this whole situation amusing) and the sound board opp laughing his head off. The stage manager (Jackie) replies "Uh....what?"
Me: You know how I was playing with the lights before the show? I think there is one moment in particular I can light.
Jackie: Let me think about it.
Me: In the mean time, do you care if I do area accenting while the actors deliver their monologues? If I do well, trust me?
Jackie: fine.
The show progresses. I am manually cross fading and adding cool and warm colors to the stage to match the monologue. The monologue I want to try the trick on is about to start.
Me: Jackie....trust me?
Seth (sound board op) laughs again
Jackie: Uh...I guess.
You may want to scroll down and read the monologue first. But lets just say that at the moment the actor needed to reach out and touch a star? His hand found one. And the look of triumph on his face, the look of surprise on the other actors faces (all rehearsed) suddenly took an air of beauty as the shadows cast downward and the light emanated from his outstretched fingers.
And the second he reached down, and accepted his death, and truth, the light faded and stretched across the up-raised faces of the remaining actors, showing their life and wonder.
This was all luck, with some gusts and design, but sheer luck. But maybe it wasn't. Because if you ask many members of that cast and crew, or the director...its that monologue they remember. because the acting was amazing, the words honest and moving, and a little lighting miracle to touch their hearts.
and mine.
Ive mentioned that the monologue also means a lot to me in its words.....At the end of my explanation, I've posted a version of the poem. The pieces I chose to become a part of me are in bold. Its cited if you are curious.
Whats actually most interesting in the pieces I chose. The part of the poem that means the most to me I did not pick...because I don't I deserve such words on me.
The poem, to me, is about the perceptions you choose to take in your life. Perceptions of yourself, your decisions, your peers, those you love. Its about deciding what kind of person you want to be. Its about how you chose to view life's obstacles and rewards. Thus, the culmination of the poem ends in death, beautiful death. Death of the kind that only comes to those who accomplish something in their lives, by their own standards.
The moment the star is touched, he no longer regrets, he knows, he accepts.
I am 20 years old, I am no where near that point in my life (or so I hope!) . But I am at the point in my life (and will be forever) where I must choose to define myself.
I choose to define myself by who I am in that instant, and who I could be. I choose to constantly work towards something better, stronger. I want to be able "to reach up and touch that star" one day, but it will be a life-long journey.
Thus it will remain relevant, and demanding. I am committed to it, and it is branded on my very being.
There is a theme of things that shine, and glitter. There is a theme of laughter and reflection. There is a theme of an ever-appearing slope. There is a theme of work, and struggle. There is a theme of the different tastes of love.
In short,
I want to be able to say that I climbed to the pinnacle of my potential. So I made a pledge to myself to make that climb.
And now, the poem/monologue:
I WAS among multitudes of childrenCharacter: Elijah Browning
Dancing at the foot of a mountain.
A breeze blew out of the east and swept them as leaves,
Driving some up the slopes. . . .
All was changed.
Here were flying lights, and mystic moons, and dream-music.
A cloud fell upon us.
When it lifted all was changed.
I was now amid multitudes who were wrangling.
Then a figure in shimmering gold, and one with a trumpet,
And one with a sceptre stood before me.
They mocked me and danced a rigadoon and vanished. . . .
All was changed again.
Out of a bower of poppies
A woman bared her breasts and lifted her open mouth to mine.
I kissed her.
The taste of her lips was like salt.
She left blood on my lips.
I fell exhausted.
I arose and ascended higher, but a mist as from an iceberg
Clouded my steps.
I was cold and in pain.
Then the sun streamed on me again,
And I saw the mists below me hiding all below them.
And I, bent over my staff, knew myself
Silhouetted against the snow.
And above me
Was the soundless air, pierced by a cone of ice,
Over which hung a solitary star!
A shudder of ecstasy, a shudder of fear
Ran through me.
But I could not return to the slopes--
Nay, I wished not to return.
For the spent waves of the symphony of freedom
Lapped the ethereal cliffs about me.
Therefore I climbed to the pinnacle.
I flung away my staff.
I touched that star
With my outstretched hand.
I vanished utterly.
For the mountain delivers to
Infinite Truth
Whosoever touches the star.
Author: Edgar Lee Masters
Play: Spoon River Anthology
Version: Original 1915
http://spoonriveranthology.net/spoon/river/view/Elijah_Browning
(though it matches the print copy I have)
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