The Process
“Life itself is a process – ever changing, ever unfolding.” – Bruce I. Doyle III
When my daughter was four years old, I dropped her off at her first theater camp. It was in the Music and Arts building on LSU’s campus on a hot and sticky June afternoon, and she cried. A lot. While clinging to my arm.
She was little and scared and unsure about walking into a new place without me. I left her with her favorite stuffed animal, “Bunny Bear,” a shaky amount of confidence and a smile that I am certain did not stretch all the way to my eyes.
“You’re going to be OK,” I mouthed as the teenage counselor pulled her towards the group of campers and away from me. I walked with my toddler son down the hallway where we sat for about 15 minutes, away from her, but close enough, hoping that she would enjoy the camp that she was excited to take and pushing away the mom guilt that rushed in.
There were two complete and opposite thoughts that stayed with me that day. One – She is in the absolute best place for her. Two – What did I just do to her?
Performing has always lived in her soul. When she was three years old, she spent six months acting out the “I’ve Got a Dream” song from the Disney movie, “Tangled.” She gathered all the hair bands, scrunchies and rubber bands she could find around the house and tied them all together, asking me to secure the final one to her ponytail. And then she dragged the six feet of Rapunzel “hair” behind her, hopping from couch, to ottoman, to the floor, reenacting the song while the rest of us tried hard not to trip on the long “locks.”
When she was four, she discovered the show, “So You Think You Can Dance,” and while it played on the TV in the background, we paired up, cha cha-ing and hip hop-ping across the living room floor. She always snagged the role of the girl dancer because she wore skirts and dresses (mostly the Rapunzel dress), and I was the boy because I wore pants and shorts. She could move her body in a way that I wish I could. The music seemed to just resonate through her.
She grew up and got involved in more theater and dance summer camps. She had an insatiable hunger to learn everything she could about theater. And as she got older, she started to audition for more plays. Her world had always been a stage and that first, tearful theater camp at LSU was the catalyst for all of it.
In the last 11 years, theater has become a constant in her life. She barely finishes one show before she auditions for the next. She has been cast in ensemble roles, supporting roles, lead roles and sometimes she hasn’t even received roles. While every role and every production has been so different, one thing has always remained the same – the process.
Somewhere along the way, my theatrical daughter learned a very important lesson with just six words: Fall in love with the process.
We live in a fast-paced world where we are always aiming for the finish line. That result-based thinking creates a lot of anxiety and uncertainty, and when we finally reach that finish line, the elation is brief and intangible. It seems to disappear as quickly as it arrives.
The process allows us all to be where our feet are. For my 15-year-old, the process is six weeks of five-day per week rehearsals and a three-show run that creates friendships and family (and the occasional show-mance), and a grit for the boringly beautiful repetitive nature of practice that is critical to shine on opening night. The process is where authenticity lives – getting up early to practice lines, staying late to learn choreography, sitting with castmates in the hallways who feel overwhelmed, late dinners, early bedtimes, waking up to do it all over again.
She barely looks back now when I drop her off at rehearsal. It’s just me and my dog, watching her skipping into the theater. As I watch her grow up and grow out of childhood, my tears are the only ones shed and that’s OK. The goal is to get our kiddos out of the house – as fully independent human beings who will make the world a better place.
But the process of getting them there, that’s where the beauty can be found.
November 3, 2024