We are about half way through the rehearsal process and we are entering the more intense part of it all.  I  find myself struggling to get a hold on the journey that Charlie takes in the play but I am seeing pieces of it appear here and there.  It is all coming together I just have to remember that the rehearsal time is a time to explore and create the understanding of the arc of the play.  Something that I have taken hold to is the power of dreams and dreaming and how Charlie’s ability to dream allows him to gain ground in the reality around him.  Without that ability, Charlie would be lost in a the savage world of war, lost without any chance of coming back.  

There are all these sayings of how “actions speak louder than words” or “you’re nothing until you can prove yourself”.  This is the dilemma in love.  There is some need to be proven, a desire to show how much we are in love when really the truth in love is all you need.  There is nothing wrong in just loving someone that you have to go an prove yourself more how deep you are in love.  That journey that two people can share with each other is so brave and brilliant that to try and render it with facts and bring a meaning to it all demeans the power of love.  Now I’m ranting.  Apologies.
I put in A.E. Housman’s “Lovliest of Trees” , well, for the plain fact that its a fantastic poem but that it also holds relevance.  Beyond the math equation built in (oh numbers), there is the idea of time and how much it matters if we are hindered or inspired by our time on earth.  It is what we are inspired by and what we do with our time that matters most.  You can think we have little time or barrels of time, but whatever we do we need to take time and appreciate the life around us, especially in such a fast paced world.  This play has that feeling as well.  As I learned from the run the other day, everything happens so fast that to try and make sense of it as Charlie would only get in my way. 
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough.
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
it only leaves me fifty more.
And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will do
To see the cherry hung with snow.
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