My Ancestors, Seen From The Mirror

“Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free
‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained,
To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come ’round right.”

– Simple Gifts, Shaker Song

I catch sight of myself in the mirror as I leave the dressing room. I am wearing a stage version of a festival dirndl, complete with corselet, apron, and headdress. How many of my forbears kitted themselves out like this on holidays? Or wore simple versions of this all their lives? Minus the mask of stage makeup I am wearing, I wonder if I could go back in time attired just as I am, and help my own great (times six) grandmother churn butter. I think I could. I join the rest of the cast on stage for a pre-run chat with the director. Observing my entrance, he says with a smile “I think I once had a Dutch doll who looked like that.” I have to agree. My looks perfectly fit this costume.

I am recently returned to Toronto after an exhilarating three weeks in Fredericton. I was out there performing in Frankenstein with Theatre New Brunswick. I had the time of my life. My colleagues were delightful. It was my first Equity contract! It was an incredible adventure, and it felt like a turning point in my career.  Part of me felt like I had won. After several attempts, I had won an awesome contract at an important theatre. I had done it! I was victorious!

Back in the dressing room, I have time to contemplate. How really did I get here? How many of my ancestors would ever have thought that their line would lead to this? To me being paid to wear our traditional clothes on stage? I am struck with how choice and chance go hand in hand. I have made deliberate choices that have led to me staring at myself in this dressing room mirror. There are also many factors involved in which I have no control, the obvious one being that I am just plum lucky to have been cast. But there are deeper, murkier, factors at play here too. The choices of my family have made this moment possible in ways they could never have imagined.

As my life goes on, I realise more and more that life is a journey of acceptance as much as struggle. We cannot run away from our looks, or our essential natures. Looking at myself in that mirror, I saw something specific to me but also something as old as time looking back. And I felt so lucky. I was lucky to be there, lucky to be playing this part, wearing these clothes, able to contribute something important to the creative whole which was mine but not mine. I felt humble and lucky and alive.

Looking into the mirror, it came to me: we are what we always have been. Maybe even down generations. There’s a comfort and a terror in that. We spring from what we are, and while we may change, there is always something that is the same. As we change and grow, it is good to remember that what came before is with us. What yet may be is a continuity of a great pageant, in which we don’t know if we’re playing bit parts or leads.  So it has always been. So it ever will be.

We hope that we succeed because we work hard. And we do.  But sometimes we’re lucky. You are who you are, and almost everyone can see it. I felt like I had been given a gift I did not deserve. It felt like my ancestors had pulled a prank, and were gently cackling through the mirror at me. This was supposed to be my own great triumph, my leap into the future, and looking back at me from the mirror was the past. I laughed back at them. It was good to have them there with me. We walked out onto the stage, and played the play.