One topic of conversation between the director and I has been the idea of fractals - parts of the whole reflect the whole.  It's something central to the jo-ha-kyu concept from Noh theatre (and subsequent SITI-ization of this form) - in every aspect of the beginning, middle and end contains in itself a beginning, middle and end.

(And yes, I know jo-ha-kyu is more than "beginning, middle, end" - but for my writing purposes here, let's leave it at that.)

Well, I realized that what I was going through Thursday was a fractal of what the show is about.  I was mourning the ideas and work I felt I had lost.

And I think somehow I knew I just had to wait it out.  The automatic reflex to fix things is not unique to me.  In fact, one of the comments I heard when developing the theme for this show was that in the U.S. (and increasingly elsewhere) we strive to always be happy.  And of course, we can't be happy all the time, so when we are not - we feel like something is wrong.

Having a crappy day is normal.  We can't have better days if we have no worse ones.  Yet we believe that our (emotional) gardens will grow if the sun shines every day, and it never rains.

I assumed I would find out some pretty interesting things while working on a show about grief and loss - but I didn't expect to learn them this way, outside  the rehearsal room as much as in.