I need to die. Not literally, but I need to die, and be reborn. Because right now I'm (figuratively) on the sick bed, lamenting my fate and being miserable, and that doesn't help anyone, least of all myself.

Bear with me and the California New-Ageyness of this all, but I'm definitely creatively stuck at the moment. I can see the path ahead that I've intentionally carved for myself. It has changed direction several times over the years, and I've continually pushed further and further off the well-trodden one into more exciting, and harder to hew, territory. And I've always aimed for the peaks - maybe not the highest of the lot, since the sharpening focus of my reality-based binoculars has guided me to nearer, less-ambitious peaks rather than the further ones draped in clouds of prestige, privilege, connections, great compromise and yes, I grudgingly admit, real talent and drive that perhaps I do not ultimately have.

But even in this revised journey, I've physically exhausted myself. A few years ago I determined ultimately what was worth it was not necessarily the peak; although that would be the official goal, I'd just go about it in a slow, steady, roundabout fashion. My creative direction was really about the journey - I told myself (and I still believe this) that even though I'm aiming for something in particular, I still want to make sure that even if I never get there, I've enjoyed the journey. And I would say so far, in that respect, I've been really successful - I don't regret any of my journey in the theatre and performing arts.

But 2006 was defined by wonderful high emotions and the exercising of my talents in worlds almost completely separate from my performing arts world: I got married (three ceremonies, in fact, so it took all year), and I left my employer of 10 years to start a new job - a new job not in the performing arts. And now as I turn back to the creative path I've determined for myself, I realize I'm exhausted, and this creative journey is no longer fulfilling my needs. It's a task I've given myself - yet another task in the long list that overwhelms me.

I don't pretend I'm exhausted because I've achieved much, and I "deserve" a break. I see the path ahead I've consciously chosen, and I tell myself it's what I must do. But I'm not feeling it. I look back and I see other people who - I lead myself to believe - are relying on me to do this. I also see a greater number of people who - my worst self suspects - don't think I'll ever get anywhere on this path, other hikers in the great creative wilderness who I fear will judge me as harshly as I've judged those in the past who've done exactly what I'm considering now. Stopping. Getting out. Turning back. Returning to the comfort - and lack of expectation - of the Lodge of Just Living.

I don't know what I'll be doing at the lodge. I just know that I'll be taking the year "off". I'm not planning any Balé Tech activities this year, which is an enormous burden off my shoulders. I'll be running the drumming workshops, and if someone invites me into a project I'm not necessarily going to refuse it - but one thing I'm trying to combat is the need to fill the space. Any and every time I've been faced with a setback, I immediately go about filling the space with some other project. That has helped greatly in me being able to continue doing work - but right now I know it's not about me producing work, it's me checking in with what I ultimately should be doing. I say "should" here meaning: what will make that journey ultimately fulfilling, even if I never make it to any of the peaks I've always intended?

So I'm dropping out of the creative space for a while, just to see what happens with myself. I've given myself a year. Will I forget it all and move on to other activities? Will I discover I need to do this, whatever "this" is (theatre? writing? performance?). Who knows?

In any case, I suspect my current path isn't "it". The "it" of finding the path that will make the journey as fulfilling as the destination. I've talked a lot with colleagues and other performers about my desire to create a space - in performance, on a "stage", whatever, but primarily in a shared space - that allows me to access that state of grace that comes when I'm in a club dancing, or drumming with other musicians. And I'm not getting that.

I suspect that I'm fairly close - but I know that personally, the closer I am to something, the harder it is to see. And I know that I can push harder in my current direction, and I'll crank out another piece of work, and another, but I'll be re-inventing who I actually am. Because the person who can achieve that state of grace - personally, and in performance - is not the person right now considering another show, another round of workshops for the ensemble, another series of script revisions, much less production details like rehearsal space and lighting tech. That person right now is very tired of all of that, and is taking a break.

I'll still be in this space - this website - since I'm going to continue (for the time being) the drum classes. But other than that, I'm focusing on my new job and consulting work and - you know what? Paying off those goddamn debts. I'll see you around - perhaps in a drum workshop, perhaps somewhere else. Maybe even in a show in the future. But I'm not promising anything.