Professional theatre production in my bedroom…really

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Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, theatre

My daughter was in her bedroom, my husband in his office, and I in my bedroom, when we made our individual calls and were connected to a robot who managed our individual hour-long theatre experiences with another theatre patron. It seems correct to refer to this event as avant garde since it was off the charts as far as any theatre performance I’ve even been to. Providing excitement in a safe environment, this production called “A Phone Call” offered theatre and the requisite intrigue.

It was not a “get to know you” call, and it was not a conversation. It was a tennis match of questions asked and answered alternately between each of us and our partners. I learned a bit about what another random theatre-attending human is like. We had to describe what we were sitting on. I had to say what year I was born and in turn she was asked if she was alive at that time. She had to describe a photo of herself as a child. I had to hum a song I knew. She had to say what was missing from her life. And then to recite something from memory, anything at all. In my daughter’s case this ended up being the Preamble to the Constitution which she’d been required to learn in middle school. I was asked if I had any tattoos, and when I said “no” I was asked why not.

It’s difficult to do this experience justice here, but as a theatre patron I liked the creative effort that went into devising questions that by virtue of the need to provide answers, skewed one’s understanding of the other person.

It all seemed to revolve around the idea that it takes more than just words to know someone. The answers to questions elicited intrigue as we each got a fleeting peek into someone else’s world. When asked what we’d remember most about the other person I said it would be how my partner got choked up when asked to describe something no longer with her. She’d remember the scene I described of my father hard at work at a desk late at night.

It was fascinating and ingenious and thought-provoking and emotional. It could trick someone uncomfortable with revealing themself or looking inward into doing just that.

Trying not to expect too much

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art, birthday, chocolate, cocktails, fun, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, love, movies, skating

You cannot will yourself to have a happy birthday, especially if there’s a pandemic limiting your life. Typically my husband and I would hop a train to NYC and see a Broadway show, then walk around town and get some great dinner before heading back home.

This year was different, and somehow, even better than all that. My husband prepared a gorgeous breakfast of eggs Benedict, then entertained me by using a silly gif that substituted my face for Dolly Parton’s or Jack Sparrow’s. For lunch we a fish fry delivered to our car from the local fish market, then took a dear walk around our county seat where we ate Eclat chocolates and then Dia Doce cupcakes. We had to hurry home, though, for the best part of the day.

It was the Frick Museum’s Friday at 5:00pm Cocktails with a Curator via live stream. My husband made the complimentary cocktail for the piece of art the curator had selected to discuss, and then we set ourselves outside in the January air on our front porch to enjoy it all. There we sat on fluffy blankets and sipped our drinks while we learned about Boucher’s “Four Seasons.” This has become our mandatory start to the weekend. But besides relaxing with a cocktail, the study of art signals a departure from the week’s work to a focus on the spirit and matters of culture.

To make this outdoor experience even more lovely, a young lady stopped by, a neighbor home from virtual college, and talked to us on the porch for twenty minutes or more, an in-person surprise that further bolstered my happy day. And, as if that were not enough, my daughter and husband agreed to take the hour-long drive to the dairybar of my choice at 6:30pm, to finish off my day with a hot fudge sundae.

The rest of the weekend was just as thrilling. We went ice skating in center city Philadelphia, played hilarious games with my sons and daughter-in-law via zoom, then met up with a friend, live, for a two-hour walk around a cute little town where we shared bonbons and stories. I even indulged in a midday movie via zoom with cannolis which my son arranged to have delivered, to wrap things up. Friends dropped by with gifts, and texts and phone calls came in.

A trip to NYC is wonderful, but this year I was reminded how these simple acts of love, the smaller, sweeter experiences, and my relationships with others renew my spirit and allow me to stop for a moment to appreciate all that I have in the world right now.

Lucky stars

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being yourself, higher power, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, nature

What great good luck do I have that I may go to the state park, late, and lay down in the bed of the truck to watch the Perseids meteor shower? We had pillows and warm breezes and barely any light in our eyes, and so the stars came into focus as we settled ourselves in.

Every August, when our grown daughter inspires us to step into the dark late at night, it reminds me of walking out to the end of the lane in Arden on a starry evening and happening upon a meteor shower. Back then we were just kids killing time in a lonely place, steeped in nature, free to wander. The end of the lane promised a show as my older sister, who knew the constellations, pointed with authority upwards into our own personal sky. Sometimes while debating which particular stars she wanted me to see, we’d be charmed by a spark that painted a fleeting arc across the scene.  Before you knew it we spotted another and then several more. It made it clear that the world is large and we are just specks. Shooting stars, any stars, are just part of the landscape. Yet, at the same time they are so special that I imagined them bestowing us with sparkling good luck.

And they did. Since I left Arden, a place that I loved, my life has only improved, no doubt aided by the power bestowed on me by the energy inherent in that happenstance dust.

Unlike in Arden though, this week our trip to the state park is deliberate and we are impatient as we wait and hope for the next shooting star, aware now that meteor showers are predictable. We were not disappointed when all three of us saw a fireball cross the sky in a long screaming streak that seemed to never end. 

Some kind of good luck is on the way, I think to myself.

Friendship isn’t easy on a good day

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being yourself, change, dreams coming true, express feelings, fear, forgiveness, friends, friendship, inspire, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, listening, passion, relationship, teacher, trust, words, writing

 

5 Things I Want to Tell My White Friends

Having close contact with young people, like my three grown children, has helped me take steps to educate myself about systemic racism in America. With their current interest in the injustices around us, I have been inspired to also learn. Robin DeAngelo’s White Fragility taught me much, opening my eyes to issues that have been right in front of me my entire life but to which I have been blind. Movies like Selma, Fruitvale Station, Do the Right Thing, I’m Not Your Negro, Who’s Streets, 13th, and Malcolm X, gripped me and illustrated themes that drive home what I have learned recently by listening better.

I am trying to be part of the solution rather than part of the problem and so I welcome articles like this one above that focuses on cross-racial friendship. It’s a heartfelt and generous letter from author, Christine Pride, to her white friends.

My book trailer is on the way – almost done!

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being yourself, book trailer, dreams coming true, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, play, words, writing

 

This is my Author’s Team, three high school students, myself and my not-yet-putrid Putrid Doll.

Just in time, back in February our team went out into the creek to film these beautiful scenes. Since then we have worked remotely to put together the two-minute trailer featuring a tea party on a rock in the middle of this raging creek. It hopefully will entice the viewer to want to read You’ll Get Over It, Jane Ellen. A discussion group organized by readers of the manuscript will get to preview our masterpiece this Thursday.

Sisters

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being yourself, change, dreams coming true, express feelings, forgiveness, friends, friendship, inspire, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, love, play, relationship, security, trust

 

To all my acquired sisters (and brothers) out there: I love you and appreciate all that you bring to my life!

But my background is unusual, and a little fraught, and so the idea of having carried a sister with me from that difficult past into today, to help interpret what was and what is now, would be terribly sweet.

A scene like this picture above always makes me take pause. It is two sisters. Before the pandemic, I used to see them often and just like this, eagerly engaging in whatever it is they have to share, obviously friends. They report, lest I be confused, that as sisters things are not categorically smooth all the time.

I do love romanticizing the idea of two women who have know each other their whole lives. Partners in life who have seen it all. A trusted friend who knows what others do not and can engage in the lifted eyebrow communication reserved for so few in our lives.

My own sisters and I took different paths, primarily characterized by flight. One ran away physically, and the other, although she did move a thousand miles from home, fled by engaging with everyone through that effective distancer, anger. I haven’t gone as far away on the map, but my world is profoundly different than the one I shared once with them.

I’ve always thought it would be fun to have a sister. But it’s kind of too late now. One is gone at the hands of breast cancer and the other has herself hidden far away. There was so much threat in our lives we learned not to trust anyone, even each other. Real communication, like sharing our feelings about anything as it seems these two sisters above have been doing for a lifetime, that’s off the table.

Too bad, too. I was always up for it.

Join me at the Langhorne Writers Group

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being yourself, change, control, dreams coming true, express feelings, friends, friendship, goals, inspire, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, mentors, passion, psychotherapy, trust, words, writing

Next week I’ll be talking to a writers group in Bucks County about the lengthy path I have taken as a writer. Meet me at the Sheraton on Oxford Valley Road in Langhorne, PA at 6:30pm to join in the conversation about This Writer’s Journey.

I knew I had a story to tell when I realized I’d reached adulthood unwilling to trust anyone. Back then I knew to take things seriously. Not to say out loud anything that mattered to me. Not to expect anyone’s help. To be leery of people who wanted to help. To leave my body if I needed to. That is all different now and it has been eighteen years since starting my project.

I’ll be using Austin Kleon’s book, Show Your Work “a best-selling guide to getting your work discovered,” to help me describe my own path. I’ll be using his points to make my points. He says that work, or in our case, writing, “is about process not product and that by being open and freely sharing your process you can gain a following that you can then use for fellowship, feedback or patronage.”

My own process has been slow for good reason, and I’ll talk about the hurdles we all face in trying to move forward in the seemingly solitary pursuit of “being an author.”

 

If you notice that you are unloading all of your issues on your fellow humans on a day-to-day basis, maybe you should talk to someone

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being yourself, change, control, express feelings, fear, goals, inspire, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, listening, psychotherapy, relationship, security, teacher, trust, writing

 

I love the title of the book Maybe You Should Talk to Someone by Lori Gottlieb. It’s a phrase we hear often, but the subtext is a serious one that is easy to ignore. So by making it the title she highlights the notion that no, really, maybe you should talk to someone.

Lori Gottlieb shows us in her informed examination of the psychotherapeutic process, that making contact is the primary goal when a patient shows up on the therapist’s couch. She gives us a sense of what a therapist might experience as they go about their work day attempting to assist those who come to them seeking help. Meanwhile, as she tells us about her various patients and what they talk about in her office, she herself is struggling with her own crisis. This comes in the form of jilted love that derails the life she had been planning, and for which she also seeks the help of a therapist.

It’s a bit of genius to open up the role that is traditionally held secret, that of the therapist but also that of the patient, to demystify the process and therefore welcome us all into what some may see as the scary world of psychotherapy. By positioning herself as both therapist and patient she shows us that it is not that easy to get the job done. That it is not just a matter of showing up and paying the money and claiming you were there, no matter which role you take. Both must engage. Both must make contact.

I know this firsthand for having wandered into a psychotherapist’s office when I was 27 and then staying for about another twenty years. A good therapist can open up their office as a symbol of what it means to be real. I went in believing that psychotherapy was a place to “learn more about oneself” whatever that means, rather than to work on any problems. I actually believed I had no problems, except at some level I must have realized the benefits because I went willingly and openly. A capable therapist, as Lori shows herself to be, has the power to help people make huge changes in their lives if they are able to welcome the opportunity. You must give yourself over to their leadings, trust in their training, their intuition, and their humanity, to guide you where you need to go. And a talented therapist can do it.

Lori Gottlieb is not afraid to show us how this works as she offers both the details and the outlines to the processes undergone by her patients and herself. Each of us at our own pace and in the therapy office, must let down the very useful defenses that keep us from unloading all our issues onto our fellow humans in our day-to-day lives, and Lori shows us that in this engaging book.

 

 

 

Susan Holloway Scott meets Project Runway

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being yourself, inspire, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, listening, natural talent, passion, teacher, words, writing

Soon after meeting Susan Holloway Scott this week, the best-selling author of many historical novels including her latest, The Secret Wife of Aaron Burr, I went to her Instagram account. There I found a treasure trove of Project Runway-perfect inspirational photos. Not only does Susan delight in crafting stories about historical figures, she posts lots of artwork. She’s attracted to pictures of women, often wearing clothes of either great richness or great simplicity. I couldn’t help but imagine the designers on Project Runway running away with ideas inspired by the frocks in the many paintings she selects. The dresses themselves tell a story.

Great examples are “The Painter’s Honeymoon” by Frederic, Lord Leighton, c1864, “Lille Marie on Neky’s Arm” N.P. Holbech, 1838, and Kehine Wiley’s 2012 “The Two Sisters.” Thank you, Susan, for sharing these images with us.

Billie on the Street

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being yourself, control, express feelings, fear, friends, fun, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, words

About the most fun I’ve had in a while was eating dinner with friends and talking about the goofy Netflix show starring Billie Eichner called “Billie on the Street.”

He absurdly approaches a random woman on the streets of NYC, camera crew in tow, waving a dollar bill, screaming at her to “Name two people!” Somehow it is hilarious to see victims become paralyzed when talked to in this abusive manner, even when it is simply to “name two people.” He really means any two people, such as “Mom” or “Joe.” You see their panic as they realize it is as simple as it sounds yet they cannot make themselves calm down enough to come up with the names of two people. I mean, even saying, “the milkman” would probably suffice, but even that is impossible for these ambushed deer-in-the-headlights people.

I’m not saying I wouldn’t also be terrified. Being abused verbally is not actually funny. It is truly terrifying. But in the spirit of the old comedian Don Rickels, Billie Eichner insults and abuses for a laugh. He’s angry and rude and screaming, impatient with the world and particularly, you.

Because of the humor, I can see his actions as a social experiment. He exposes the truth that we freeze up when treated badly, lose our heads and have no sense of the moment. Become ineffective and weak. Powerless. He shows us that no matter the content of the abuse, we are vicitms simply by virtue of it.

Fighting back is an option, but few people on this show have the presence of mind to do so. That’s why, I guess, we had a hilarious dinner, topping each other with one silly “Billie on the Street” story after another.