One of the things I appreciate the most about going to a live musical is the opportunity to get completely 'lost' in the beauty, the music, the experience. Your phone is off - and so is that of every other person in the theatre. No one comes in or goes out - or if they do, the public outcry is great. (Being scowled at by others in Britain is probably one of the worst things that can happen to someone.) When the lights go down and the stage comes up and the music begins to play, time obligingly stands completely still and lets you forget that there are train times and flights to catch and work to do and a life to live, and you are allowed to become completely swept away.
I'd never seen Les Mis before - it was Caitlin's particular favourite, so I booked tickets for her birthday and (by a combination of being-aways), four months later we were sitting in the red plush seats and ooohing and ahhhing at the glass chandelier, the posters on the walls, the decorations, the entire theatre. Having never seen the performance, and only making it 1/3 of the way through the book thus far (although I will still highly recommend it, and am pressing on in finishing it by the end of the year), everything was new to me. I had no preference as to actor or performer, and everything amazed me. I began by thinking 'This is pretty good', and by the intermission was absolutely stunned. There is an intensity in a musical, and in a live performance, that you never feel when watching a film on your computer or the tv. I felt as though Jean Valjean was staring directly at me, that Eponine was singing to me, that the little wink the boy-soldier gives as he watches over the others is between him and me. And someone singing their heart out on a small stage causes the sound to fill the entire place - there is nothing left for other thoughts, other distractions. You don't care about anything else you have to do that day, as a matter of fact you almost forget who and where you are. For three hours, you're in Toulon, you're in Montfermeil, in Paris. The revolution is rising around you - the red flag is waved, the smoke billows, shots ring out, hearts are broken, love is kindled, sacrifices made, and lives are lived out before your eyes. It's the most incredible condensity of lives: all the small details are there, and the main story is there, and you feel you have lived several lives in just a few hours. When you come out of the theatre, blinking against the bright sky, it's a surprise to see someone breakdancing to loud music, people selling things everywhere, the Tube station, modern clothing.
It was an absolute pleasure to not only experience the beauty, but to get completely lost in it . To forget anything and everything else around, to be fully 'present' in a way we often are not. Mobile phones, computers, Skype, Facebook....everyone is constantly in three or four or twelve places at the same time. No one is content just enjoying a new food, a new country, a funny story - it all has to be on video or on Facebook or quickly photographed. I cut my hair a month or two ago and actually had people tell me that if I didn't take photos of it, they presumed it didn't happen. That kind of bothers me. Can't we just enjoy things, or notice them, without having to self-publish all the time? Is it surprising that I can cut off a foot of hair and only one or two people actually notice, because I didn't take pictures and publish it on Facebook so everyone can make comments and only participate in life virtually? I far prefer the Les Mis option, where we weren't telling people about the experience halfway through: we were there, living it, seeing it, loving it, actually experiencing it.
May you experience something fully today.
I'm fully experiencing a good ale right now!!
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