With the passing of Robin Williams yesterday- I went from thinking it was a hoax, to disbelief, to sadness, to denial. I began the mourning process for a man that I loved deeply but who didnt even know my name. Today, he is all I can think about. His twinkling blue eyes, the audio tape of Aladdin that I played over and over in my closet trying to imitate his voices and rants, my brother and I watching mrs doubtfire together on VHS and laughing and laughing with bowls of popcorn, how much I wanted to be in a food fight with him at that table in Hook, his suspenders and grin, his provoking dialogue in Dead Poets Society, his quiet stirring stillness in One Hour Photo, his jokes, his ability to not be funny- to be seen as vulnerable. The list goes on and on... I watched him like a treasured family member. Sure that I knew him and that he could see me. I wanted to be him. I saw myself in him. I saw what I hoped to be. I was sure he could see me. Every part he played seemed to be speaking to me- in my sadness. In my growth. In my journey. In my laughter and tears. It seems a lot of us felt this way- All of us with these beautiful treasured memories of Robin Williams. But we all didnt see HIM. We didnt really see. It makes me turn to my community of artists and musicians. Poets and comics. Writers and dancers. It makes me look at my friends. These folks in society who make us laugh and make us feel. The people who dig deep down within themselves and pull out every broken heart, loss, tragedy, triumph, giggle and fear- and turn it into a song, a joke, a painting, a book. The makers of emotions for the masses. We often may be alone in our creations and in our minds as artists. We give ourselves so others can emote, laugh, cry and see. But we are not alone. You are not alone. We must seek out joy and safety and support. We must SEE each other. With love. You are not alone. You are not alone.
Posted on: Tue, 12 Aug 2014 17:18:15 +0000
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