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Storyworth: Perfect Happiness
Doing meaningful work with people I love.
Competence is my favorite emotional state. It is often underestimated and ignored, but when people talk about “flow,” or “being in the zone,” a lot of what we seem to mean is that feeling of knowing what you’re doing, knowing how to do it, being able to do it easily, and being proud to be doing it. To be focused on the task, being in the moment, not wishing that you were doing something else--that is bliss.
I love to work with other people. Not any other people--probably the vast majority of people I’ve worked with have been somewhere between completely neutral and actively annoying, or frustrating. But for me part of loving someone is to love to work together. Unloading the dishwasher with my husband, reorganizing a closet with my daughter, analyzing a script with my boyfriend, designing a set with my friend, Jo--the simplest task becomes a delight with the right partner. The ability to communicate tightly, the keen awareness of each other, the ease of sharing perspectives, and the trust in each other’s capability. all of these manifest and reinforce the connections between us.
As the child of a Protestant minister in a small town, I was part of a family business. We all participated in my father’s ministry, taking leadership roles in the age-appropriate groups, helping out wherever more hands were needed, or just showing up to create a seed-kernel of participants. We sang in the choir, worked in the kitchen, organized fundraisers, staffed the nursery, participated in youth group. At home we learned how to take messages as soon as we could reach the phone and served as a dinner-table advisory board for my father’s stories of the day. We presented a public image of family harmony and achievement that reflected my father’s ability as a shepherd for his flock.
Creating meaning in daily chores is a discipline and, sometimes, an effort. It can be challenging to find real satisfaction in the laundry. It’s much easier for me when there’s an element of performance, or presentation in the delivery, an opportunity for feedback, for me to enjoy the audience’s enjoyment.
I love to cook in part because of the delight in hearing someone moan softly at the first bite, or ask for seconds...and then thirds. I rarely fail completely at cooking, but when I make something that is only adequate--something my family are content to eat, but would never ask for again-- it feels like failure.
Doing theatre weaves all of these threads together. Each person brings their own skills and talents to a different aspect of the production. Whether it’s compelling portrayals, or brilliant work with power tools, each piece is important, every person’s role is essential. Working with people I love and building community to expand that circle, makes the resulting productions not merely entertainment, but a sharing with the wider community of our audience from our vital core. But it is not in the moment of performance that my greatest satisfaction arises, but in the joy of watching a scene come together, or gasping as the lights turn on for the first time after hours of hanging them, or grinning at each other as we figure out a solution to make the set work. It is not the result, but the experience--not the product, but the act of work that I find perfect happiness.
Competence is my favorite emotional state. It is often underestimated and ignored, but when people talk about “flow,” or “being in the zone,” a lot of what we seem to mean is that feeling of knowing what you’re doing, knowing how to do it, being able to do it easily, and being proud to be doing it. To be focused on the task, being in the moment, not wishing that you were doing something else--that is bliss.
I love to work with other people. Not any other people--probably the vast majority of people I’ve worked with have been somewhere between completely neutral and actively annoying, or frustrating. But for me part of loving someone is to love to work together. Unloading the dishwasher with my husband, reorganizing a closet with my daughter, analyzing a script with my boyfriend, designing a set with my friend, Jo--the simplest task becomes a delight with the right partner. The ability to communicate tightly, the keen awareness of each other, the ease of sharing perspectives, and the trust in each other’s capability. all of these manifest and reinforce the connections between us.
As the child of a Protestant minister in a small town, I was part of a family business. We all participated in my father’s ministry, taking leadership roles in the age-appropriate groups, helping out wherever more hands were needed, or just showing up to create a seed-kernel of participants. We sang in the choir, worked in the kitchen, organized fundraisers, staffed the nursery, participated in youth group. At home we learned how to take messages as soon as we could reach the phone and served as a dinner-table advisory board for my father’s stories of the day. We presented a public image of family harmony and achievement that reflected my father’s ability as a shepherd for his flock.
Creating meaning in daily chores is a discipline and, sometimes, an effort. It can be challenging to find real satisfaction in the laundry. It’s much easier for me when there’s an element of performance, or presentation in the delivery, an opportunity for feedback, for me to enjoy the audience’s enjoyment.
I love to cook in part because of the delight in hearing someone moan softly at the first bite, or ask for seconds...and then thirds. I rarely fail completely at cooking, but when I make something that is only adequate--something my family are content to eat, but would never ask for again-- it feels like failure.
Doing theatre weaves all of these threads together. Each person brings their own skills and talents to a different aspect of the production. Whether it’s compelling portrayals, or brilliant work with power tools, each piece is important, every person’s role is essential. Working with people I love and building community to expand that circle, makes the resulting productions not merely entertainment, but a sharing with the wider community of our audience from our vital core. But it is not in the moment of performance that my greatest satisfaction arises, but in the joy of watching a scene come together, or gasping as the lights turn on for the first time after hours of hanging them, or grinning at each other as we figure out a solution to make the set work. It is not the result, but the experience--not the product, but the act of work that I find perfect happiness.