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RE-NOTICING THE UNNOTICEABLE
“Get up and walk across the room!” my acting teacher, Marian Gallaway, insists. I’m part of a circle of seated college students who are at the beck and call of the charismatic and flamboyant woman we all call “Doc” Gallaway.
Doc Gallaway is addressing me directly, so I have no choice in the matter. I’ve got to take to the runway and become an example for the class. I know the routine. Having been in a play directed by her, I have learned that she is dictator and I am subject. I arise from the folding chair and, well, just walk as if I’m going somewhere.
“Impressive,” Doc proclaims. “You see how he carries himself?” I keep walking to the edge of the circle, then about-face and return to my chair. “What do I see?” Doc asks the fearful students. No answer.
“He walks as if he is carrying great responsibility upon his shoulders,” Doc continues. She concludes, “Watch people, how they move, and carry this into your character onto the stage.”
That is her lesson for the day.
My earlier instructors…people who help me learn to watch humans closely…give me the courage to blatantly stare while the species goes about its daily activities. I am only now, in the third act of life, beginning to appreciate their gifts.
For instance…
Back in the day, Frances Reed, my mother, loves nothing better than to sit with me in a public area and point out details about passing people. To this day, it is my favorite pastime, uncovering clues about what each person is trying to hide, or clues about what is obvious to the viewer but invisible to the person being observed.
Uncle Buddy McGee, a decorated WWII paratrooper, returns from the War with two Purple Hearts and a passel of stories and tales about his experiences in the midst of European battles. He teaches me the value of turning swords into plowshares, for every bit of horror he observed is turned into humorous narrations designed to make me laugh while teaching embedded lessons about life.
Helen Hisey, my eighth-grade speech teacher, teaches me how to rise fearless before crowds of friends and strangers…rise fearless and just get on with the performance, making sure that every word and movement means something clear and specific to the audience.
And so on. Lots of people teach me lots of things, some of which I forget to employ, others of which I practice daily whether or not awareness accompanies them.
The peculiar thing about great Life Lessons is that they have to be re-learned or re-visited now and then. They remain entrenched in deep memory but often get obfuscated by life events and travails. They must be dug out, dusted off, and re-purposed.
Today, I am digging for buried treasure, treasures awaiting my re-appreciation.
Doc Gallaway and Frances Reed and Buddy McGee and Helen Hisey and a dozen others are visited in hidden memory and resuscitated each time I am in need of bolstering or cheering up or sobering up. When I temporarily forget their instructions, I falter and lose my way.
So, this very day is the day I re-up my observational skills. Not only will I issue forth my courage and continue my daily vigilance, but, someday soon, I will turn my Noticing abilities upon my teachers. For so long, I have taken them for granted, so now I plan to examine and observe the teachers themselves. It’s too late to teach them anything new, but maybe my recollections will turn up some more life lessons that they taught me by sheer example.
Time to re-notice the unnoticeable
© Jim Reed 2018 A.D.
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