Oh words, you’ve done it again, letting me go blithely on my way believing I knew what was what. Silly me. The beauty of words is that they have specific meanings. Yes sometimes different words can mean the same thing but they each have their own unique identity.
Planning and Preparing.
They are not the same thing. When the shit hits the fan, the proverbial fan blades shred said plans without discrimination. Plans fail, plans change, plans fall apart or just lay there, ill-advised and sans intentions. Preparation involves being on your toes, poised and ready to shift, change, adapt. These are the staple verbs of survival.
I make plans every day – the infamous, ubiquitous list – and every single day I revise the list. Every damn day without fail. Because the nature of an artistic life is heavily improvised, constant change is par for the course and yet I am completely intransigent at times. This is perhaps ironic, authentic irony, not the Alanis Morrisette kind. That said, the psychology is obvious, the lack of control over when I audition or when I work compels me to strive for some sort of constancy in other areas. But the fact remains, plans are always subject to change. I rescheduled my last dental appointment twice because of auditions, I paid two change fees for a trip to New York to accommodate a booking that never happened and I forfeited this summer’s spontaneous weekend getaway for work out-of-town. This last may be ironic in the A. Morrissette vein.
On a whim back in January? February? I bought myself a three-day pass for a musical festival happening in Ottawa this summer. I had no plan, all I knew is that there was a lineup of awesome musicians scheduled and maybe some other people I knew would be going and our paths would cross. I was prepared for an adventure. And then I was offered this play. In Nova Scotia. Change of plans. I planned on posting regularly about the process and writing quick dips inspired by a new landscape. For four weeks internet connections were weak, inconsistent, or non-existent. But despite plans gone awry I prepared for the best. I was excited to explore and embrace what this corner of the country had to offer. Three months ago I had no idea I would be eating lobster rolls on the Cabot Trail, having a splash in the Atlantic Ocean, connecting with a dozen amazing Maritime artists, agonizing over lines and scene beats, learning the history of two disparate communities and playing two contrasting characters to standing ovations. I couldn’t have planned any of that. And I wouldn’t trade it for a high-speed connection.
It took a couple of decades of resistance but today I embrace the idiosyncratic nature of my days. Plans are good to have but being prepared for possibilities beyond your imagination is better. Having an awesome weekend of music turn into a weekend trip to France* is just something I could never have planned. I will still make lists but that’s more about my challenges to stay on track and on task.
*off the east coast of Canada are two small islands, St Pierre et Miquelon, that have remained French territories. I had vowed to try to get there if I was ever on the east coast. It wasn’t a plan, but I was prepared to try – and I succeeded.
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