Integrity, Odin, soft summer

Early summer. My house glows. Golden floors, quiet sunlight, white walls. Outside, an explosion of big-leaf maples, green-tipped firs, cotton poplars, vine-maples, giant ferns, and a tall stump crowned with salal. Buttercups sprout among the licorice grass.

Sun is the one factor that throws off software schedules in the Pacific Northwest. We creep outside, rain-white faces to the sky, blinking.

My mother can sleep on the water. She is the only one of our family buoyant enough to do this. I rest in my life right now, that same boneless way.

After seven years of rigorous training toward having a group-theatre company, I spent February and March in a Director Residency at the Odin Teatret in Denmark. The Odin, led by Eugenio Barba, is one of the finest ensemble theatres in the world. And one of the oldest. They turn 40 this year. "It is not natural to stay together this long," says Eugenio. "Most group theatres live about ten years. It is our mutations that have kept us alive." I would say, it is their deep practice of presence. When the moment changes, they are able to recognize and change with it. Even if, phoenix-like, it is the moment of destruction for where they have lived or how they have worked.

I lived in Grotowski's room in the theatre, observed rehearsals of Andersen's Dream, cleaned the great-room, worked on my book, and gave Chekhov Training to the apprentice actors.

The Odin is a company of shining integrity. Integrity, like excellence, is a process that grows one decision, one act, at a time. Living at the Odin was a fine clean time. When I came home, I could see what else to clean up.

My next step requires, like an electron leaping orbitals, immense energy and momentum. For now, I drift on the soft air of summer.