I didn’t consciously, after performing a show in which I was quite stressed, anxious and overwhelmed, think “I will now make a show that is calming for me and the audience”. It would have been logical if I had. But somehow it feels like various parts of my mind and body and brain and vagus system and universe-connected bits came up with this conclusion and implemented it three months later.
Since my conscious self is now better at listening to those other parts, it seems to have gone “Ah, splendid. What a good idea, let’s crack on” and lo- in a pub venue in Suffolk at the weekend, I had quite a different performance experience than usual. And, though making spoken-word shows is quite a niche thing to share a “How-To” guide about, I’m writing about this more in the spirit of suggesting that part of unmasking for neurodivergent people comes in listening to a wider range of voices in the orchestra of yourself- and then not freaking out when they start playing symphonies in an entirely new style. (Because it IS weird. I’m still getting my head round audiences telling me they found something I produced relaxing and therapeutic).
In the stressful show, I was performing in a venue without technical help and trying to operate visuals, props and sound cues. After setting up a mike, projection and speakers. Plus incorporating a musician doing some new incidental music. I was also reading prose narrative bits and poems from a script- and trying to say everything that could possibly be said about neurodiversity, Doctor Who and my life story. If that sounds overwhelming: it was. I think generally audiences found it funny, thought provoking and entertaining. But (and I’m speaking for them, reading between the lines and doing a bit of assuming), it was probably a bit overwhelming and nervous-system jangling for many of them too. Since overwhelm and nervous-system jangle is partly what society asks for and expects in its cultural production- that might not have been too incongruous. But for me, it’s a recipe for burnout if doing too much of it.
In the relaxing show, I still had no technical help, but my tech needs were now reduced to some (calming and cheery) music which I played myself through my iPhone into a small bluetooth speaker. I spoke very little prose- just memorised and embodied, often rhythmic poems - some of which pointed out (in a way which acted as a timely reminder to myself) how I find poetic rhythm to be a “stim” which helps me both focus and calm. I’d written some new poems over a period of time in quiet places and rehearsed and memorised them, also in quiet places- including, in my flat, my van and on my very very dopamine-light writing retreat. Some of them imagined an alternative future in which people act on a felt sense of empathy for people who don’t process the world like they do- and I invited the audience to sit more comfortably and do any rhythmic or repetitive movements they wanted to (or none). I ended with this poem (in audio too, below) called “Leaving the Trauma Cafe” which imagines a visit to a stimulating cafe in this more empathic world- and how without additional stressful stimuli from other people, it can be calming and not a trauma trigger. (I’m writing all this down going OF COURSE THIS WAS RELAXING, WHY AM I SURPRISED?). But the feedback from people who’d seen me perform over a number of years, and new people contained words that are not usually applied to my performances- calming, therapeutic, healing.
Leaving The Trauma Cafe
But the miracle for me
was how, when I frizzled in cafes
stopped by sounds of talk,
clattering cups, an espresso machine
rows of teas and traybakes,
kitchen doors flapping, a fug of warm air,
on an empty stomach while trying to shape
unfamiliar words
there was no longer a man, in some form,
flaring, his own channels jamming,
our primed shames and fears
snapping like crocodiles in a storm,
parasympathetic nervous systems
piloting into a death spiral,
no more fight, flight, freeze, fawn,
just bubbles settling
on white foam
around a single, floating leaf.
As I say - it is also a bit disorientating. Is this one of the outcomes of nearly two years of meditation classes, working with my triggers, post-pandemic calm seeking, avoiding chaotic relationships and doing a lot of reflection? I didn’t mean to become a performing version of the Headspace app. (I don’t really think that’s happened). It was also that my process of writing, developing and making the work was more relaxing. I simplified, slowed, pared down and started focusing on something that’s easier for me to do. Fewer bells and whistles. It’s as if I dropped some of the conditioning that makes life hard for myself (though in a way that’s always what I’ve been drawn to in doing poetry performance - the simplicity of just turning up and saying rhythmic words to and with an audience- it’s just easy to get waylaid by the call to do more/say more/be more). Anyway, on that note, I’m off now probably to have horses and bees and young children following me down the street -drawn by my calm aura and healing vibes. Or, in fact, not. Because I’m still the fairly intense overthinking awkward person that I always was, but somehow with added chill. I wish you happiness in accessing yours however, and whenever you do.