25th February ~ All The World’s a Stage…

~Sunday is most people’s day off. It should be perfect - a proper rest and change from the preceding week. So often however, it turns out to be rainy, boring, and too full of family arguments. ~ “Sunday Bloody Sunday” ~ It’s understandable I guess; we play our parts all week and by the weekend it is so often a case of “Will the real Me stand up.”
Shakespeare wrote: “All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players“. As an actor, I emerge from and then return to my dressing-room, at the begining and end of each performance. It sounds very like the Afterlife and I’m sure that Shakespeare was well aware of the analogy. It becomes more fascinating, if I consider my life, outside the dressing-room and the theatre. I would not consider the Australian Bar opposite the Manchester Opera House as being Heaven, but in a way it is. I am no longer an actor, smiling and laughing for an on and off-stage audience, irrespective of my real internal feelings; I am part of and happily anonymous, within a larger picture – just being “me”. I can remember rushing home each weekend, to enjoy my “free” time. Once at home, I would so often, become bored and unsure of what to do and neglectful of my family, as I irritably spent Sunday, on a fruitless search for the “I” in infinity.~

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on…”

“I” had woken from my dreams this morning, feeling pretty good, but it was in church that the real Joy started. Each week we have a different ‘medium’, on a sort of spiritual touring circuit, around our area. Today we had Aileen Davies, a redoubtable lady I had never met before. Aileen turned, “May I come to you Sir…” “Yes” I replied. Aileen then described my mother, “Expressive and theatrical, although she was not on the stage” “An elegant lady, beautiful in her time”. Aileen then sensed lilies, my mother liked ‘lily of the valley’ soaps and perfumes. At this point, I started to hope that at last, after nearly two years, that my mother was contacting me. The messages became more direct; “She suffered with her breathing; she had problems with her heart…she died suddenly.” That was true. Then: “She is your mentor, she will guide and support you with your new project.” Aileen went on to tell me that Christina had written a lot, particularly poems and that I had all her writings and read them often - that my project was a literary one which had just begun and that I should go through “the gate”. I was so happy and kept thinking of the words the farmer heard in Field of Dreams, “If you build it, he will come”. I’m still wary - ever the doubter, but the accuracy of Aileen’s contact with my mother, made my Perfect Sunday.

We are such stuff As Dreams are made on


“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts…”
William Shakespeare

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