Everything old is new again

Hello you wicked witch of the west.

We went to see the 20th anniversary tour of Rent this week, and for those who know me well, you will know that any time listening to/watching/ belting out a musical is always time exquisitely well spent. There are several shows that pack an extra-nostalgic punch for me: West Side Story, Wicked, Les Miserables, Into the Woods amongst these, along with newer ones like Hamilton, Dear Evan Hanson, etc... And I would count Rent in this list of my personal list of "Best of the Best" musicals-- ones that I can listen to again and again (and again and again and again and again and again and again) and still get verklempt with a particular song or moment in the story, and continue to be swept away by the music in ways that pop or rock music never could for me. 

Rent came out in the mid 90s-- an era that has its own distinct cultural overtones-- but it was also a pivot point for me in my own life's trajectory: moving from childhood to adulthood, graduating high school and moving away from home for the first time, figuring out what it meant to be me as an individual human being. It was a transformative time, and Rent was a big part of my soundtrack for that era.

With that small trip down memory lane, I was thinking a bit this week about nostalgia, memory and our present experiences of our past selves. Nostalgia is an interesting phenomenon, where we can look back at our past lives and past selves with fondness, but also get a lot of comfort from that look backwards, and use that positive energy as fuel as we forge ahead in life. To be honest, I tend to be someone who likes to look ahead more than behind in general. But there are lots of benefits to nostalgia, and because we are often both the subject and object of a nostalgic trip down memory lane, re-experiencing these personally meaningful moments can feel particularly intimate and powerful.

But what if the nostalgic thing you thought you knew all of a sudden feels new and different?  I was pretty surprised with my experience of watching Rent this week. It initially felt like a typical nostalgic experience of my youth, like a visit with an old, dear friend. "I know you, you know me, we know how we relate to each other and its is comfortable and predictable and pleasant."  There is a contentedness in that predictability and familiarity, and my expectations for the show were clear.

However, as I let myself sink into the experience of seeing the musical live again after so many years, I had a really new experience of the story, and was really touched by some of the themes like being acutely aware of the finite time we have on earth, the fleeting moments of happiness and connection, the love we passed up or lost because of our own fears or pain. I knew about these themes of course, but its like they moved from two dimensional to three dimensions (or more). It was like seeing an old friend in a blazing new light, and I was surprised that I could experience something so familiar in such a different way.

I was prepared for the cast's interpretation of the show to be different, their distinct voices and cadences, etc... but I was not expecting to be surprised by my personal experience of a story I knew so well..... And friends, I know that musical: every word, every note, every pause, every subtlety of that show. I could recite the entire thing to you right now.  But as it turns out, to pay attention to what is in front of us, the brain uses filters, not a spotlight. And it seems some of my filters have changed.

And so the saying goes: sometimes what was old is new again.

I did not anticipate that my own evolving perspective on life could affect my experience and appreciation of something so familiar and known-to-me.  It was a pleasure to be able to look at something so loved in a new light and to have a new and touching experience of watching it again (for the first time).

In short, I thought I knew everything there was to know about myself and my relationship with that piece of art. But I was wrong. And that is awesome. 

There is huge value in broadening our horizons, trying new things and expanding the breadth of what we enjoy and give meaning to in our lives. The world is a rich cornucopia of awesome! But this week I learned a bit about the value of leaving space to re-experience some of my old favourites, and as I grow and evolve as a person, I want to remain open to new ways of seeing and experiencing the things I think I know.  A lot of learning in life comes from abandoning assumptions, letting things be as they are (including yourself) and giving everything the space to delight and surprise us; and to challenge or reinforce what we think we already know about ourselves and the world.

As Lao Tzu says: "When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be."

PLUS: these dispatches have been sadly bereft of musical theatre references lately.  So there you go! Musical theatre-reflection WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!

And a final reminder that next week, we will start our month of guest dispatches from the platypus community (and I begin my NaNoWriMo journey)! So watch out for these fresh November voices-- it is going to be a fun month all around! 

But wait! Is all this talk of nostalgic looks at the past feeling a bit too intense on a sunny Sunday morning?  Then please enjoy this article about how talking with your hands is an expression of the beginning of human language.  

Still too much realness?  Then check out this video of a bevy of baby alligators and their uniquely Star-Wars-esque vocal skills.

From one musical-loving person to another, I am glad that we can learn from this most awesome of art forms together. I hope you enjoyed this dispatch, and have a breaking-out-into-song-filled week!

Until next Sunday,
The Earnest Platypus