Part 6…
“I will. I promise…”
I am sitting at an Airbnb in Rotorua, New Zealand. I am here for the Recovery Street wānanga (gathering). I have just come off a 19 hour flight, with a 4 hour layover in San Francisco and a 5 hour bus ride to Rotorua. I am tired, but I am also very excited. I am about to meet the Recovery Street Whānau, family, in person. I am somewhat nervous, but not nearly as much as I would have thought. As I sit and wait, I review the story that I am telling at the Recovery Street show (June 25-27th at Te Pao Theatre in Auckland). I begin practicing and as I tell the story, I say, “I promise, I promise, I promise.” I have told the story of how my first musical, “This is Treatment,” came to be, in this particular format, a few times before, but never have I said “I promise.” The promise was to my 5 year old self who just wanted to play the piano, and to my 13 year old self who said she wanted to write a musical one day. That’s the wonderful thing about this type of unscripted, first person narrative storytelling; more is revealed each time you tell it. As I finish practicing, I see the van pulling in and immediately I say a prayer and remind myself, “I know who I am in truth, I know what I am in truth, I know how I serve in truth.” I ask that I be used as a vessel for His will, and take a few cleansing breaths. Ah, here they come.
There are hugs and smiles and curiosity. We have a group WhatsApp situation, but it’s nothing like meeting the Whānau in person. One of the dear ones, a beautiful Maori musician who worked in tourism and with young indigenous people, opens the group with a Karakia (Prayer) and as we all go around, people are claiming their Maunga (Mountain), their Awa (River), their Tūpuna (Ancestors) and when it comes to me, I just claim what I can as a person from Boston Massachusetts. I find Te Reo Maori to be a gorgeous language and this ritual to hold a level of depth and reverence unlike anything I have experienced in Boston before. I ask questions around what each thing means and there is a willingness to share and a kindness in each response to every question. Chris, the Founder and Executive Director of Recovery Street, asks if I want to say the prayer before our meal. I say “yes.” We sit together and eat delicious food cooked by Chris’ sister and we get to know one another. And now it’s time to do a read through of the show.
It’s now 7:30am the following day and we are headed to the lake for a cold plunge. I watch some of the Whānau go into the water. One of them sits there, seemingly unbothered, just receiving what the water has to offer. I love their presence, their calmness, their spirit - the connection to Papatūānuku (Mother Earth). I don’t go in as I wasn’t prepared for such a thing, but I promise I will go in next year. Ah, next year…
We begin our intensive rehearsal process. I am used to hearing recovery stories, each story brimming with courage, resilience, grit and grace, but the fact that these are Maori recovery stories - stories of connection to their Tūpuna, their culture, rituals, gods, the harms of colonization and how that has led to addiction, mental health issues, trauma, loss of identity, etc… While many things are similar to other recovery stories I hear, the Maori aspect of each story adds an additional layer that I wasn’t anticipating and didn’t realize I needed to experience until I was experiencing it. I am not attached to any particular culture, I don’t know where I really come from, I don’t feel a particular connection to my ancestors, I don’t have a mountain or a river or a set of values gifted to me from my ancestors. In some ways, I feel like there is a shallowness to my experience, identity and connection to Spirit. What I see in them is a knowing that goes beyond words. Like, they don’t have to try to be anything, they just are. I find it refreshing and know that the more I work with these dear one’s, the better of a human I will become. And the more connected to ALL that is I will become.
It’s Saturday night and we are headed to a Maori residential treatment facility. There are only two in the country. This is the first time anything like this is being allowed in the treatment facility. Residents, staff, family, and graduates are there. They greet us with hugs, songs, prayer and a delicious meal. Now it’s time to perform.
The performance is incredibly moving and meaningful. I get to be more of an observer, watching the Whānau during the performance. I am feeling somewhat overwhelmed - I keep wondering, “how did I get here?! I am in New Zealand telling one of my recovery stories, what?!” I think back to a moment when I was talking to the dear one about my vision – doing storytelling with Maori people. I told her that I wanted to learn about their culture, rituals, stories, etc. That I felt called to work with them/learn from them. And not even a year later, here I am. Yes, I am overwhelmed. When you see things manifesting in real time – all I have in this moment is utter gratitude for the journey, for recovery, and for listening to the calling on my life.
It’s now Sunday and we are about to wrap up the wānanga. After we close our gathering, the dear musician brings me over to a young one he worked with. She is a musical theater fan. He encourages her to sing for me. She starts the song “Stand Up” from Harriet. I know this song well. We sing it together. It is an utterly magical moment of connection. The song ends and we hug. It is a very tight hug - she has tears in her eyes. This young one has the voice of an angel and a spirit that matches her voice. She wonders if I'll be back for the musical she is in in October. I long to come back to just write a musical with these dear humans. My heart is so full.
As we leave, I feel a level of connection that I haven’t ever felt before. And as we drive, I get a feeling and internally, I hear, “You kept your promise…” And I say, “yes, Papatūānuku, I kept my promise…”
Off to Auckland I go.
To be continued…
Where Did She Go…? Part 1
I have just arrived in Helen, Georgia. My friend/colleague and I are here to train some clinicians in recovery storytelling and embodied storytelling. I am so excited to be away from Boston and in the country, though when checking into my room, I had to sign something acknowledging the fact that there are Black bears roaming the park and what to do in the event that I come across one. I am a city girl, so, this is not something that I find joy in, unlike some of my less melanated friends and colleagues. I walk into my room and my view is of trees and the mountains and it is breathtaking. I can breathe easily in this room…
I am experiencing some sciatic pain and my back, legs and joints are so achy, and when my body feels this way, I also find negative thoughts and uncomfortable feelings like to join the party of discomfort. But, being in nature, away from the noise and energy of the city, is always a balm for any discomfort I may be experiencing. It’s a reminder that while city living may come with a variety of privileges, nature and bodies of water are what makes my nervous system happy.
Helen, Georgia is such an interesting town deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains. My words would not do it justice, so, here is a link to learn more, lol. https://helenga.org/. As my friend and I marvel at the beauty of Helen, my mind wanders.
It is a bright Sunday morning and I am working a Brunch shift at Veggie Galaxy. The song, Sunday, from Jon Larson’s “tick… tick… Boom!” describes it perfectly, though today is slower than usual. Just as I put in an order, I overhear a table talking and feel my energy shifting towards their conversation, “Spiritual beings having a human experience…” They are speaking my language. “Can I join your conversation?” I ask, to which they say, “of course!” And we begin having a very otherworldly conversation and my whole body begins to tingle. We find our way to talking about alcohol and we speak to the idea that imbibing alcohol is like piercing a cosmic veil and inviting lower vibrational spirits into your vessel. If you go to any bar and are sensitive at all to energies around you, you can feel/sense that there are parasitic entities circling. The conversation is over and contact information is exchanged and I am left thinking about what I might have invited in during my days of active addiction.
“These California rolls are so good!” I think to myself. Sushi in Helen doesn’t disappoint and our server is a beautifully tattooed man with deep brown eyes and is oh so kind. As I eat my sushi, I say to my friend, “Where did that Elizabeth go? I was a black out drinker but we know that the avatar is still going even if you are not there… Where did I go?” And my friend, who isn’t as sensitive to these such spiritual/metaphysical things as I am, receives a download and says, “You were in some other realm surrounded by darkness just trying to find your way out…” And with that, my body is aflame, the energy is so strong that my friend feels it too. And she isn’t one who feels such things. The energy is of a lower vibration and is so powerful and I am filled with pain and sadness and… knowing. I can hear that Elizabeth calling me. Needing me - wanting me to find her and… set her free.
The aches and pains subside, our training for the dear clinicians who work with young people struggling with a variety of challenges goes exceptionally well. I am tickled by the fact that I get to train clinicians in utilizing creativity, play and storytelling to support their clients. But the thought of 20 something year old Elizabeth lost in some other realm of existence all those years ago is haunting me. I ruminate on what it means to wrestle with one’s darkness in search of one’s light. My light. And I think about the journey of integrating all those different parts of myself, the stories, the experiences, in service of wellness, of… wholeness.
Yes, where did she go and how do I get her back? How do I let her know that she need not roam in the darkness any longer? And in these questions, I hear, “write me home.”
To be continued…
Because I Just F*cking Want It!
It Pays to be Delusional…
A memory: A dear one and I are walking along the water…
“Seeing is believing…” the dear one says to me. That is a lyric from Andrew Lloyd Webbers, “Aspects of Love.” And at first I say, “Yes, you have to see it to believe It.” And then I think, “Wait! No, that’s not true.” And then I try to explain why that lyric is actually problematic but they don’t hear me... “Not everyone thinks like you, Elizabeth.” We just keep walking. I keep thinking…
I am sitting at my piano playing through the 30 minute presentation I have prepared for an upcoming recovery conference. I am reminded of how much I love playing the piano. As I am playing through one of the songs, I see a notification on the phone. It is an email from one of the three actors performing in the presentation. “Sorry, Elizabeth, I am not able to participate in the performance…” It is 9 days before the show. 9 days before an opportunity I have wanted, longed for, dreamed of, chased, for the past 12 years. Oh, I suppose I should give you a little backstory before I go on.
When I began writing “This is Treatment” in February of 2013, I desperately wanted hospitals, institutions, treatment facilities, etc., to know about the show. The very first performance was for people that worked in mental health and recovery. There was always this desire to include those that worked to support people in their recovery journey. I longed for partnerships within this community. And, that did not happen. While people who worked in mental health and addiction treatment did come to performances, there was still something missing around understanding how this work added value to the conversation on ways to support people in their recovery. There wasn’t yet an understanding of the role creativity, theatre, specifically, had in recovery. Overtime, a theme emerged: I had a vision that nobody understood. They couldn’t see it. They didn’t understand it. I knew my show was going to be a tough sell for Broadway (can you tell me how many Black female composer/lyricists/librettists who have stories like mine have gotten their show to Broadway?) but people that worked in recovery? And it broke my heart that they couldn’t see it the way I saw it… And now, 12 years later, they are finally starting to understand.
Okay, 9 days to go and I do what I have trained myself to do over the last 12 years, I ask myself, “what’s possible, Elizabeth? What is the opportunity here?” I think about this for the next hour and then I go to bed knowing that the idea will be there when I wake up.
Side note: the day before the actor quit, I had a dream. My dreams are incredible. Lucid. Vivid. Prophetic, at times. A dear one, an Angel, really, showed me the journey of “This is Treatment” and “Chasing Grace” in a way that I hadn’t seen before. I think that’s a story for another time, but when I woke up, I thought “What a journey it has been…”
It is 6:30am and I wake up with the thought, “they have to see the journey…” And just like that, I go into the archives. I look through 12 years of video. I cry, I laugh, I dance, I sing, I remember how important these musicals are to me; how it has been its own form of narrative therapy; how in the early years, the rehearsal process was like group therapy. I am reminded that though it was an awful lot of hard work, I was so full of doubt, and insecure as all hell, I created what I and so many others needed at that time and it was beautiful.
It is now 3 days before the conference. I have created a 4 ½ minute video highlighting some of the journey. The finale of “Chasing Grace” underscores the video. Upon finishing it, I cried and looked up to the sky and said, “Thank you.” I wouldn’t have done this had that actor not quit. I needed to really reconnect to my “why” and this walk down memory lane did just that.
When I think about that time, I think about the fact that in order to be where I am at today, I had to believe it before I could see it. I had to use my imagination to create a new possibility, create a new way of being in order for that possibility to be realized and thus create a whole new way of life. And 12 years later, I realize, this is the only way of being that makes sense to me anymore. And that, if you stick by your dream – your vision, people may not see it initially, but eventually they will see it. And, now you have become a person capable of making their dreams a reality.
So. In some cases – for some people, seeing is believing, and if that works for them, God bless. And I also recognize how incredibly difficult and scary it is to take a leap without knowing if there will be a net to catch you. But, for me, and for many others who dare to go after their dreams, even when there is no evidence to suggest that they can do it, believing is seeing.
Yeah, there ain’t nothing wrong with being a little delusional. That’s how worlds are built, after all.
More will be revealed, indeed.
Part 5….
A memory…
A coffee shop near South Station. “Here.” The old friend shows me an image of her prior to leaving the states and one of her in her new home 9,000 miles away. “The lifestyle is just different.” The image before she left the states was one of stress and anger. The type of image where you wonder if a heart attack or some awful outburst is right around the corner. All the stories that one image could tell… The other image, the newer image, is one of peace and tranquility. I was amazed by the difference but I couldn’t quite understand it until now.
I am at the diner that I have worked at on and off for seven years. I have been back for a couple of weeks now. I love this diner. I love the customers, my co-workers, the feeling of ‘home’ that I get every time I walk through those doors. I also feel like I am walking through a portal into another dimension. But, that’s for the 5th musical that will be written sometime in 25/26, “Huxley’s Table 15.” “You’re back! How was New Zealand?” a couple of regulars ask. “Like there was nothing to defend against…” They wonder what I mean by that. “Y’all know I do all sorts of things for my well being - pray, meditate, exercise, breath work, cold showers, grounding, etc, but, there… I felt like the moment I woke up, I was already in that state that I work so hard at achieving here. Spirit/Nature/The Universe greeted me from the moment I woke up... Whether you are a person of faith or not, Spirit was ever present. The trees, the water, the birds, the forest, the air, it’s just right there…” Each customer I tell, has a visceral response to what I say. And I tell everyone, regular or not, that they must visit Aotearoa at some point in their lives. One of my dear regulars says, “It sounds like you found your little island, Elizabeth.” Mmmm.
I think back to the old friend who now lives on that side of the world and find myself feeling very grateful for her. She, without realizing it, opened up doors of possibility for me. The first time, I was following her to the other side of the country. This time, she inspired me to travel to a side of the world that didn’t even seem real or possible until now. The beautiful difference is, I am not following anyone or anything. I am simply following the call of Spirit. Funny how Spirit puts dear ones in your path like that. People that help guide you towards what you want or don’t want, a lesson you must learn, an experience you must have, etc. All in an effort, though they might not realize this, to help you further evolve and become the highest expression of yourself - well, if you choose to see it that way, that is… How powerful are we that we get to choose how we see any experience that we’ve had in this school called life? We create the story, we tell the story, we make meaning of the story… We can… change the story. A rewrite is always at our fingertips.
I miss New Zealand. I think back to my Sunday meeting with the dear one who runs the recovery theatre organization, and all the possibilities that lie ahead based on that one conversation. We have another conversation on the books already… I think of the feeling I had as I was headed to the airport – I couldn’t help but notice how I kept feeling as though New Zealand was trying to keep me there. When I felt that, I would say, “don’t worry, i’ll be back…” And since coming home, I hear her calling me at night. In those… in between times of awake and asleep. It’s quite strong. She is reminding me to keep my word. And, I will. I promise.
June 2025, more will be revealed, indeed…
Part 4….
It is Friday and I only have three more days left in Auckland, New Zealand. I am on my way to meet with an organization that works in harm reduction. Before I even came to New Zealand, I reached out to people doing work similar to the work that I do in Boston and New York: theatre, recovery, harm reduction, and storytelling. And while I made some connections via email, I wasn't able to meet with anyone until today. As I head over to meet with this lovely new human at the harm reduction organization, I feel the sting of my new leg tattoo.
I am in an Uber headed to the Waitakere Ranges, in the Waitakere Forest. My Uber driver is a lovely Middle Eastern man who has been in Auckland since his family immigrated over 20 years ago. “Have you been to the states before?” I wonder. “I have been to New York and Michigan. I might go back once I am done with school here.” We continue to talk, and, momentarily, we veer off into politics. Everyone seems to want to talk about politics with me. I am thinking of the older gentleman who stopped me in the park by the grocery store a day earlier. I do not shy away from these conversations, but I am getting tired of them... I imagine that my feelings will find themselves in a political satire of some sort years from now.
We have arrived. The tattoo shop is deep in the forest and I am a little bit nervous, but then, yet again, I hear the voice from within say, “Welcome, Elizabeth.” As I say goodbye to my Uber driver and make my way to the tattoo shop, Ace, the tattooist, and his partner, come out to welcome me. I noticed the blue ink tattooed on his two eyeballs and am taken aback, I have never seen someone with tattooed eyes before. Before leaving for New Zealand, I decided that I would celebrate my birthday with the beginnings of a tree tattoo that would go from my left ankle all the way up to my neck. I knew that I wanted to begin this journey in Aotearoa. Ace and I chat over tea and coffee, he asks me to talk more about my idea for a tree to which he then replies, “we can do what you would like to do, but just know that trees don't move with the human body, what you're speaking of wouldn't really work. But if you're willing, I have another idea.” So far my time in New Zealand has been one of exploration and intuition and a deep desire to connect. And this, right here, is a mighty connection. “Whatever you think is best… I trust you.” He sends me out into the forest to collect things for inspiration. When I come back, I have a branch, a feather from a tui bird, leaves, rocks, and a couple of other things. For the next 6 hours I am in the most pain that I've ever experienced at one time in my life. But with each stroke of his needle, he reminds me that I am getting stronger, that I am breathing in life, that if I want to learn about the Maori culture then I will learn to take the pain of a tattoo as tattoos are part of their rights of passage. Passage. He reminded me that even if I want to leave, run out that door, I stay. I endure. I am strong. He is also a light worker and I can feel the light going into my body. When he is done, I say “ I feel like I need to go and treat myself with something after this." to which he says, “your reward is rest." And I felt what he said in my bones. In my Spirit.
Over the next few days, I take it very easy. While I intended to initially get just some roots for a tree, I ended up getting more than half my leg done. I move a bit slowly and yet I still find myself walking all over Auckland. I write a lot too. Writing was one of the few things I was very sure about when planning to take this trip. It was always meant to be a bit of a workation.
It’s Thursday and it’s my birthday. I am with new friends as we eat good food. They sing happy birthday to me. It’s a very magical moment.
And now, as I sit waiting for my meeting with a lovely woman who works at the harm reduction organization, I wonder when the opportunity to return will reveal itself. I still don’t know yet. I do know that Addiction Practitioner is on the shortage skill list so there might be opportunities for the type of work that I do in Auckland, but what that could look like exactly, I’m not yet sure. My meeting begins and immediately we connect. I love how this woman has shown up to this meeting. Human as all can be. Towards the end of the conversation, she says, “You should meet with this person at this recovery theatre organization!” As I get up to leave, she hands me a card with this person's information and says, “There’s a way, if I found it, you’ll find it! Reach out to me anytime, I’m here for you!” I leave and go straight to a coffee shop where I hit up google to start my search. “What is this recovery theatre organization all about?” I wonder. Immediately I am taken aback by how handsome this human who runs this organization is and think, “well, now, I wouldn’t mind finding love in Auckland! It would make immigrating a hell of a lot easier!” I laugh at this thought, but I can’t tell if I am joking or not. I open up IG and gmail and send this handsome human two messages. I am leaving Monday and it’s Friday, so I am pretty sure there isn’t enough time to meet, but I hope that he and I could zoom in and chat about our work and find a pathway towards working together. The next day, I open Instagram and see a message and gasp, " We can meet on Sunday if you'd like.”
To be continued…..