I just returned from a most delightful evening at the theatre. And by theatre I mean the outdoor amphitheater at Centennial Park. The production was A Midsummer Night’s Dream staged by Wild Rumpus Productions. The audience sat beneath the trees with picnic rugs and hampers full of food. We had Mersey Valley cheddar and Jalsberg and dips and berries and fresh bread and wine and juice and olives and eggplant and semi-dried tomatoes and fresh tomatoes. Is it obvious that we feasted? And as the sun set to the west, the players gathered around us to tell the story of lusting lovers and impish elves and fairies. No set, no props, beautiful simple costumes, simple lighting, and some wonderful good old-fashioned story telling. This was Shakespeare at it’s best. Wild Rumpus Productions claims in the program notes to create performances “that are bold, irreverent and of the highest professional standard,” and that they did. Young and old, from the four-year-old pink fairy sitting behind us, to the oldest grown-ups were all kept entertained with spirited and playful performances that bought the Shakespeare text to life. Can life get any better than this? Sydney on a beautiful clear night, summer fruits coming into season, wonderful friends,  fabulous food, and a night out at theatre. My Oberon! What visions have I seen! And thankfully, not a dream, but the stuff that dreams are made of. Wonderful.   
 
Wild Rumpus' production of A Midsummer Night's Dream is running until 28 Nov, every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday at 7.30pm. Highly, highly recommended! Tickets can be booked here. 

Last year I started listening to a FABULOUS podcast called MusicalTalk. Every week a group of Brits get together and talk about musicals. Their focus is mainly on London and the UK theatre scene, with occasional dips across the pond to talk about what’s happening on  Broadway. They talk with actors, directors, writers, stage managers, audience members, all the plethora of folks involved in making musicals, and have a whole list of very well known industry folk on their interview credits including Stephen Schwartz, Alan Menken, Anthony Rapp, Johnny Depp, and Stephanie J Block to name but just a few.

So a couple of weeks ago, I was listening to MusicalTalk and I thought, I like talking about musicals! Why don’t I do my own podcast? And talk about Australian musicals? And in a rush of excitement I told the girls at dance about it. And they got very excited. And then, last Thursday after Chris had whipped us into shape in Broadway Jazz, Flick and I sat down and attempted our very own podcast. The results are here for your listening pleasure. In this inaugural episode we talk about our first experiences of musical theatre. It was ridiculously fun to sit and talk musicals. It was ridiculously fun to sit and edit the thing (thank you Apple and your wonderful GarageBand invention!). In short I had a total blast. Do what you love. And you will be happy. The end. 

PS. We need a name for the podcast. Suggestions welcome!

In the past 7 days I have had several beautiful, inspiring, and exciting experiences...

On Monday I went down to Canberra (the above image is actually a photo of the air con and personal light on the bus!) to visit my good friend Susie La Q and her boyfriend Ryan, and after a delicious lunch in the CBD, we headed off to the Australian War Memorial. Even though I have been to the memorial countless times, each visit is an emotional, confronting,
and inspiring. It is a beautifully designed space, and the exhibits never fail to move me. It seems that the more I learn about conflict around the world, the less I understand it. At closing time, the crowds are ushered towards the exit, and we were privileged to witness the “closing ceremony”, a simple service at the Pool of Reflection. A different soldier is remembered each day, his story read out to the crowd, and at the conclusion, a moment of silence followed by a lone musician playing The Lament on the bagpipes. Looking around the  crowd, a multicultural mix of tourists from all around the world, I couldn’t help but wonder, what is the point of all this conflict? I am standing with people whose nations at one time or another Australia has most likely been at war with. And for what? Has it made the world a better place? Or does it just make people more mistrusting of each other? 

On Tuesday Susie and I visited Floriade. If you ignored the carnival rides and Easter Show-like stalls, you could almost believe you were stepping into an Impressionist painting. The rainbow of colours of poppies and irises and English daisies and chrysanthemums, the light green of the weeping willows dotting the perimeter of the lake was breath-taking (I love how in the photo above, the image has pixelated and it looks like a painting). The gnome knoll was a surprise highlight, with a myriad of brightly and imaginatively painted gnomes grinning up at intrigued passers-by. Thank you to Susie La Q and Ryan (and Sulley!) for a lovely couple of days!  

On Thursday I took Phoebe and her friend Sara (aged 7 and 8 respectively) to the Rock’s Discovery Museum for a school holiday program called HMS Discovery. Each “sailor” was given a passport, and the embarkation point, Plymouth, was stamped onto the yellow page. The year is 1792. Captain Natalie (not quite historically correct having a female captain, but we’re willing to be a little more open minded these days) reads her crew of 10 sailors, ranging in age from about 5 to 11, a letter from Captain Arthur Phillip to King George, requesting supplies for the colony of NSW. A projected image on the wall behind the ship tells us we are at the Plymouth dock. Over the (anachronistic) loudspeaker we hear sounds of a busy wharf - sailors stomping up an down the gangplank, cows and pigs mooing and
oinking, the horns of the ships.

The crew were briefed on how to run a ship by playing Captain’s Coming, and were  quickly inducted into the technicalities of port, starboard, bow, and stern, climbing the rigging, sewing the sail, and scrubbing the deck. The crew assembled in the Plymouth Storehouse, and were ordered to load the ship. Sacks of tools, timber, flour, and sugar, heavy chests with currency, a large sack of mail and cages of animals were quickly despatched onto the ship by the willing crew. Once all were aboard, the gangplank was removed, the ropes were thrown in, and the sail let down. 
 
The ship was off! The image on the wall changed to  a painting of a ship at sea, and the sounds of the ocean could be heard all around. The eagle eyed crew quickly spotted that the ship was overrun with rats, and spent time running around the ship throwing fat black squeaky rats overboard. Each sailor took turns in the important tasks of furling and unfurling the sail, throwing the ropes, and steering the ship. As evidenced by the sound effects, and a new image on the screen, the ship sailed into a storm, and the crew tied themselves to the
railings to avoid being flung overboard by the rollicking sea - thankfully everyone knew how to tie a reef knot! They charted their way down around South America and found themselves in Rio de Janeiro. The crew avoided scurvy by eating lemons, limes, and bananas, and dancing to the music of Rio de Janeiro. But the stop was only a short one, as there was still a long voyage ahead. 

Finally, after 8 long months at sea, the crew could hear seagulls, which meant land was at last nearby! The distinct sounds of the NSW bush could at last be heard - cackling kookaburras and lilting lyre birds. The image on the wall transformed into Sydney Cove, and the crew rejoiced at having made the long voyage successfully. The cargo was unloaded into the Sydney storehouse, and all sailors were given a new Sydney Cove stamp in their  passports. A most wonderful way to spend an hour in the school holidays... now I need to find a version for adults! 

The War Memorial visit re-inspired me to keep learning about conflicts around the world, and after a delightful couple of hours in the City of Sydney Library on Tuesday afternoon, I have a new stack of books on Afghanistan to keep me busy for a while. Yesterday I finished reading Three Cups of Tea, a powerful book about the importance of providing education in Central Asia. Once again, the more I learn, the more I want to know, and the less I seem to understand... the contradictory joy of learning!
 
So a very busy and wonderful week, with much to inspire me! And the best part, all of these activities were free! WIN! 

Right now, life is nice, because I'm doing what I love. I’m getting paid to watch theatre 5 days a week at the best job in the world (well, second best. The first best would be getting paid to be on stage... but that will come in time!), I’m singing and dancing, I’m writing, I 
discovered the State Library has hard copies of Variety magazine film reviews dating back to 1910 (perfect for my Movie Musical Project), and I have time to hang out with my little little sister during her school holidays and spend an entire day at the zoo marveling at the weird and wonderful creatures that inhabit our planet. 

Do what you love, and you will be happy, and all the things that you worry about will sort  themselves out, and it will all be ok!!!

When one thinks of moments of beauty, inspiration, and excitement, a cemetery is probably not on the list of things that spring to mind. Let us travel back to the Victorian era... First of all, death was considered in an entirely different way to the way we view it today. It was much more out in the open, publicly discussed, shared, and mourned. Concurrently in this period, we see the development of public green spaces - large beautifully designed parks and public spaces for people to enjoy fresh air, sunshine, and be close to nature. Central Park, Hyde Park (both in London and Sydney), and the Sydney Royal Botanic Gardens, are beautiful examples of such parks. 
 
These two notions came together in the form of the necropolis, or “city of the dead” (from the Latin words “necro” for dead body and “polis” for city), a large open space that was at once a park and a cemetery, or as it was referred to by our Victorian counterparts, a garden  cemetery. A space for people to come and bury their dead, mourn the loss of their loved ones, and be in a beautiful environment. In Sydney, we are home to one of the the largest necropolis’ in the world, and what is considered to be one of the best examples of a Victorian necropolis in the world, Rookwood Necropolis (a tiny portion of which is pictured above, picture is from the Rookwood website). Located between Lidcombe and Strathfield in Sydney’s west, Rookwood comprises 700 acres of burial grounds, featuring beautiful gardens, architecture, and the names of over 800,000 people who are interred within the grounds.  

Arriving at Rookwood on the free shuttle from Lidcombe Station for the Open Day yesterday was entirely bizzare. There were bands playing music, sausage sizzles and Devonshire tea stalls, face painting for the kids, and people everywhere. People of all ages and backgrounds were wandering around the grounds, looking at headstones, listening to volunteer tour  guides share the histories of the cemetery and some of its more infamous inhabitants, and looking for graves of relatives and ancestors. If there is one thing that unites humanity, it’s death. No matter where we are born, under what circumstances we live, what we do, at some point or other, we will all no longer be living. 

Due to the sheer size of the place, I unfortunately missed the talks I was hoping to attend - behind the scenes at the crematorium, and the history of embalming, but it was rather incredible to just wander through the grounds for an hour and a half. I felt that the original designers of Rookwood would have been proudly watching over the creation yesterday. Their
ideal of the garden cemetery was not realised in the nineteenth century owing to poor burial practices, issues with sewerage, and poor management, but today Rookwood is an eerily beautiful place. It is steeped in history, and captures the ethos of a time gone by. 
 
Is it morbid to enjoy learning about the history of death? Or is it just a natural part of living? I find it fascinating, and I think we could do well to take a note from our Victorian forebears and bring the discussion of death back into a more public domain. Tours are run by the Friends of Rookwood (a volunteer organisation that works to promote the “social, historical, and cultural values” and preservation of the site), on the first Sunday of the month. It would be great to go back and experience it again.

The only constant is change. Around this time  a year ago I thought I was getting married and moving into my own apartment with my (now ex) beloved. Around this time two years ago I was hanging out at summer camp and getting ready to walk the Camino. Around this time three years ago I was despairing that I would ever meet a single straight guy who loves theatre (ok, some things may never change...). Despite many amazing things happening in  my life right now, of late I have been feeling uninspired and tired. I have to trust that this feeling will change. 
 
And so, in an attempt to remain positive and be kind to myself, I have compiled a list of things, in no particular order, that inspire me... 

meditation. musicals. running. listening to Seth Rudetsky. watching Seth Rudetsky. reading a good novel or short story. listening to classic fm. watching a movie musical. dancing. writing. spending time with beautiful people. being kind to myself. eating dark chocolate. reading  superforest. spending an afternoon in a library. going to a talk and getting fired up. candles. having a good sing. sitting in bed and listening to the neighbour practise their violin. listening to musicaltalk. journalling. colouring in. sitting in the sun on a bright blue sky and reading a good book. learning. buck’s rock. the idea of living on an organic theatre farm. travel.  the camino. eating beautiful food. cooking beautiful food. Eveleigh Farmer’s Markets. sustainability. possibility. falling in crush. superforest. reading old diaries. watching musicals on youtube. going to good theatre. creating theatre. performing. playbill.com. 

As they say in Avenue Q, “Everything in life is only for now! Life may be scary, but it’s only temporary...” This too shall pass, and soon I will have the energy to go out and conquer the
world!

I used to be incredibly frustrated by what I didn’t know. I remember being in kindergarten and being annoyed at the way grown-ups kept using words I did not know the meaning of. As a six year-old trying to fit into and navigate the world around me, I was convinced that somewhere in the city were old men in suits whose job it was to invent new words and disseminate them amongst the adult population on a daily basis in order that there would always be words I would never know. 

As a grown-up, there are still many things I do not know. A big topic at the moment is global warming and climate change. As an average person with no scientific training and a slight aversion to numbers, I don’t “get” the science behind the debate. But as an average person, I can comprehend this. The stuff we use to fuel our society, namely fossil fuels, is finite. Humans live in a way that is detrimental to our health and the planet’s.

Last week I attended a talk at Town Hall on a new report called Beyond Zero Emissions: Zero Carbon Australia Stationary Energy Plan. Thirty scientists, engineers, and academics got together and asked how can Australia move toward a more sustainable renewable energy existence. And they came up with a 200-page document thats shows how Australia can move to 100% renewable energy by 2020. And you know what got me excited? The men in suits say its possible. It’s not just bearded patchouli hippies. It’s Malcolm Turnbull and Bob Carr and former Australian Chief Scientist Robin Batterham and British engineer Allan  Jones. 

We have to believe that change is entirely possible. It’s happening in Spain and Germany and the United States. Commercial scale renewable  energy. It was something I didn’t really understand when I was walking the Camino across northern Spain a couple of years ago. I saw wind turbines and solar panels on a scale I had never encountered and I started asking myself questions about energy and how it all works. 

I still do not entirely understand the world. But tell my six year-old self that she would one day go to university and spend four years learning words she never knew and even after majoring in English there would still be an untold world of words beyond her cognition, and that’s not frustrating but entirely exciting. And tell the girl who read Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and walked across Spain and saw wind turbines and solar panels that in just over 6 months she would be working for a sustainability shop and going to the Farmer’s Markets every week and eating beautiful organic food and learning that there is so much possibility. 

The world may be on the brink of collapse, but I choose not to be frustrated by what the men in suits beyond my understanding make up and implement across the globe. I choose to believe it is possible for men, and women, to put their brains together and come up with ways to make the world a better place to live in. As Annie Leonard says in the wonderfully
eloquent Story of Stuff, with all the clever people on the planet, surely we can come up with a way to live that is not detrimental to our health and very existence. 

I live in a world where anything is possible. I can choose to understand. I can choose to make a difference. As Allan Jones said at the talk on Thursday night, “the barriers to 100% renewable energy are not technological or economic, but regulatory mindset and vested inteterest.” I may have felt powerless and small against the men in suits as six year-old. And I could continue to feel small and powerless against the people in suits today. But I chose to be inspired. I choose to be excited. I choose to believe the world I live in and the way in which I live on it can be beautiful, rich, creative, and sustainable.