Safe Harbor

It’s been a long time since I sat here in the SAC and wrote in a notebook. Mme Day’s class was cut short today due to her not feeling well so I decided to come in here and drink a cup of coffee, eat a muffin, and write.

Now, I know there are a thousand other things I could be doing but this was my decision. I am not going to waste any more psychic energy than this on the choice; I am aware that I could be sketching for the diary

Of/on what subject shall I write? One of me is suggesting a game to play. It involves making overtures in my blog(s) to see if a certain one is reading, the question comes up; if so, then what?

Often in the past I have embarked on such ventures, not often into personal but more often a road to participating in some activity only to have it turn out to be s.t. not desired and then dropped. When the activity involved others it often turned messy, or at least the termination of it wasn’t handled very sensitively.

Where it involved an organization, it could be terminated without rancor and where it was a skill activity, it could be terminated with simple abandonment without regard to repercussions. Some value could be salvaged financially through the sale of the asset; some for more than paid, some for less.

The one being suggested is a slippery slope onto which I shall not venture.

I recall a time in C60 when I had put things right. It was 1975/6 and I had organized the division such that it was functioning without my direct intervention. There were periods of weeks, even months, when I had nil to do. I had designed an organization, assigned responsibilities, set goals in each of ten areas, interacted weekly, but not to interfere, with those who were in charge and reporting to me.

I had finished my work in C60; I could add nothing more to it. There were even times when I would go for walks in the vast shipyard, from one end to the other to get ideas. But I didn’t have a next move and I was only thirty-six years old. The move came out of left field, in the guise of NNI, a complete change of venue and type of people. Whatever went on behind the scenes to suggest this change, I was not in on any of it. It could have been an extensive analysis or a quick decision; I don’t know.

I am an organizational genius, a systems nerd, an innovator, a person who plays the hand dealt. While this sounds good, it is lacking in an important area. It is even difficult for me to express what that is. Is it a philosophy? Is it an over-arching goal? Is it a desire to fill a need? Is it a reluctance to make a change? Is it being overly sensitive to the feelings of those with whom I am now involved? Is it a fear at the bottom of all these questions—fear to do something else?

In a big way I am there/here again; and have been for almost ten years. The house, the life-style, the income, budget, and activities; all satisfying and the very picture of what anyone could want; then the family, the affection they show, the Acting, golf, riding, and pool, which are the core endeavors. And under that layer, 14 more endeavors and a performance evolution method that works for me. IOW, I have what I set out to get—now what? One answer is to develop the acting endeavor into a professional career, as an actor v. an agent, or director, or trainer, or techie.

I am, however, caught in a web of comfort. A good analogy is that of a sailor who, on a good boat, made it to port, through storm, tide, shifting winds, rain, and night and is now safely moored in a quiet harbor, riding calmly at a mooring with enough provisions to last indefinitely. What does he do now, just sit there?

If my past is prologue, he will weigh anchor, put up the sails and go forth without making a definite choice of destination; sail on to see what islet pops up. Perhaps a small one that allows for quickly exploring it then sailing on to somewhere else. A larger one may take more time but eventually, like now, would also be known/ explored/ understood and the same wanderlust would set in; sort of a Gulliver.

I sit here having attained an age of seventy-one, the result of all that has gone before, ready to set sail again. Perhaps acting is the destination. If it is a genuine desire, it will appear ever larger on the horizon until I anchor in the protected cove on its coast.

I don’t however feel that I have left the anchorage of where I am. I am visiting the harbor pubs, trading lies with the patrons, hearing the stories, building the desire but I haven’t shoved off as yet. An odd question, will it be a decision that is made or one that is recognized after the fact as having been made?

I realize I’ve said that I am now an actor; I could just as easily have said writer, consultant, trainer, or speaker; saying it doesn’t make it so. I’m working at the art of acting by studying, auditioning, learning lines, rehearsing, and performing; by putting myself out there to be recognized, by putting myself in target rich environments. It seems to be working, because I am working and getting paid for it, albeit little. In the longer run, I suppose we will have to revisit this whole thing in another year or so and see where is the boat.