Theater is powerful - slowly, yet tantalizingly, it draws the observer into the plot; it weaves a web of intrigue or suspense, humor and love, and ever seeks to wrap you firmly in a cocoon of emotional brilliance.
It's on my bucket list for this current year to see an opera at The Metropolitan Opera House. I want to buy a new dress for the occasion and real heels from Cinderella of Boston. For one beautiful and glorious evening be transferred to a place where music sets the soul on fire and reveals its nature, where the cares of life melt away in the lust for justice and the quest for love. It all comes down to love, right? Love drives theater (and specifically, opera). Love in all its forms, but largely, romantic.
I want all the romance you can dream up. You can buy me a milkshake. You can casually offer to sit on the inside of the Scrambler and whisper, "Just let go." Have you felt that rush of joy at the abandon of letting yourself slam against a rock of safety over and over? It makes me blush and giggle but the speed of the ride, the wind, and a safe place always make me want to plunk down three tickets to ride the Scrambler.
I don't let go often enough. Not nearly often enough.
The theater gives me the chance to do just that. I can release all those hormones and chemicals that I'm required to keep at bay at all times. I allow myself to be swept through the notes, drowned in the words, only to rise and applaud those who gave me this gift.
Maybe theater doesn't do it for you. Maybe you'll never listen to the strains of La traviata. But there is something or someone who helps you let go. Even for an hour it allows peace to cover your head. Even for a few minutes they brighten the room of your soul.
Keep these close. Embrace the gift. Allow yourself to enjoy. For life is made for such as this.
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