if . . .

Jessica a Ceremony is a reimagined reworking of Jessica by Maria Campbell and Linda Griffiths. The book of Jessica: A Theatrical Transformation documents the collaboration between Maria Campbell, Metis writer, playwright, filmmaker, scholar, teacher, community organizer, activist and elder and Linda Griffiths (1953-2014), a Canadian actress, producer, writer and one of Canada's most lauded modern theatre voices as together they created the award winning play Jessica . To honour the 45th anniversary of Maria Campbells's memoir Halfbreed (1973), regarded as a foundational work of Indigenous literature in Canada, the E.D. Feehan Theatre Guild brings you the story of a young Metis girl struggling to find her voice.  A story that resonates even more today. The cast diligently sourced the original script by improvising around scenes to develop their own path which they wish to share with you. We welcome you to join us on our journey. Elder Vitaline conjures up the spir...

... the huge yellow bellied bird flew directly at you ... it was early afternoon ... bright ... yesterday had been dark ... the clouds had let you sleep ... not today ... the festering open sore on your ring finger from the burn of many days and miles ago worried you ... ... the bird flew at the window ... you gasped ... it wanted to peck at the sore ... you clean the sore with your tongue ... you’ve been told saliva is the best medicine ... you don’t remember who told you or if it’s true ... still you suck the sore ... ... mosquitoes silently sucked your blood at night ... you wake to mounds of red blotches ... don’t scratch ... press your nail next to the redness and make an exclamation mark ... you’ve been told that helps ... actually you just made that up ... yet you believe it does help ... ... how much of everything you say is made up ... you peel away ... this is what comes back in memory ... let time slip away ... the will to stop dying ... you don’t care if you ...

... just finished reading Jacob Wren “ Authenticity is a Feeling ” on the plane to Seoul ... in fact read the entire book on airplanes ... what sticks the most is the passage describing going to a round dance: “ ... that this was what I’d always been looking for in art. The way everyone could participate or not participate, how the dancing and singing and drumming was just going on in and around us, part of daily life, and at the same time we were all always part of it. (Well… I wasn’t but everyone else seemed to be.) Since, of course, this wasn’t only or even mainly art, it was culture in a larger sense. ... I couldn’t help but think: wasn’t this related to what I’ve always been working on. A performative feeling of community where the performers were no different from the audience, where everyone knew the rules yet engaged with them in some way where the rules barely seemed to matter at all. I was of course watching all of this as an outsider and a settler. I had no idea what ...

… the last days at cite internationale universitaire de Paris  ... in the first floor apartment at Pavillion Victor Lyon  were bliss … the fever from the travels passed, strength slowly returned, pressures of the year evaporated and sleep returned … a peaceful dreamless sleep … the sense of disheveled and somewhat unpleasantness of June dispersed  …  morning strolls, afternoon siestas and night walks shaped the days …  … the weather was miraculous … perhaps a bit warm but the heat proved soothing … the bio-diversity of the surrounding park, the sky full of birds I could only guess as to their nature ... the gentle breeze ... were a cure for all ills … even getting caught in a sudden thunderstorm one evening proved refreshing ... the walk after the rain along a street of gardens was intoxicating ... the perfume of flowers and vegetables filled the air ... … the multitude of cultural residences never ceased to surprise with nooks of fantastical scu...

… after a delayed flight we arrived back from Casablanca late running to catch the last bus … made it … exhausted we went right to bed … well not exactly both of us …  i spent time cleaning off Ae’s table cluttered with conference material, programs, essays and various notes so we would have a place to eat in the morning ... emptied my luggage tossing most in the laundry hoping to get a start on that tomorrow ... looking at the desk I finally gave up … that required a major effort  …  Ae was sick the last two days of the FITUC Festival … she had gone to bed and stirred fitfully moaning the entire night … … eventually crawled underneath the crisp, clean white sheets aware of the beginning sore throat/fever/nasal congestion plaguing Ae was nibbling at me … dreamt … woke up at 5:44 am … the room was stifling hot … couldn’t move … every fibre of my body ached … it was as if each and every muscle had contracted … stared into the darkness terrified...

::Note:: ... thing about FaceBook embed is you must be a FB user ... this is just a placeholder till more appropriate time ... if it works for you then fine ... not my preference ... simply still digging in this infernal world of the web ...

… wait … before the banishment … everything came from something that came before … the circle … the red circle … walking on stilts … images of scholars talking to stones … ringing gongs by the river of forgetfulness … videos of a mask walking through tall grasses … a video … …wait … i was watching a video … i had been taking notes … it was a long time ago i had climbed a ladder looking for an escape … found … … remember … there were two ways … one to have a sixteen foot ladder and open the ceiling trapdoor or to lean a ten foot ladder and work up to the second shelf-like section to open the second trapdoor … i kept hearing noises and wanted easy, ready access to scale quickly up to the attic at a moments notice … built a permanent ladder … … wait … when the dreamer had asked about the video i knew something else was in the dream … something what was meant when it was really about another thing … when writing as the scribe it was necessary to look past the first given word...

... never wanted to be the scribe ... had not trained to write or even be a listener ... it all came to be much later ... after the banishment ... couldn’t keep my mouth shut ... delivered words with a snake tongue ... it wasn’t terrible but led to a time away ... returned after the self imposed exile to the imagined home ... took some time to read the land ... run the rivers ... ferry over the straights to islands and backed onto the blew treez prairie ... a sorrowful canadian dropping down station to station ... ... oh but that glorious age of eerie exile ... running amok in the sunfield room at the top of the stairs ... a place deserted by priests searching beyond the holy theatre ... part of a desperate group of renegades ... howling, twisting, fermenting traditions ... something fishy and playing along through bottoms forest dream to the robinson crusoe nightmare ... radicalization of ritualization … gesture transforming … ... before that were farm field tricks and furn...

... you watch the video a second time ... it is on endless loop ... abruptly you realize the opponent you had faced had not been a man ... you had that suspicion during the battle ... and an exchange had occurred ... parts of each of you were transferred ... it had been surprisingly easy to give yourself over ... it happened so fast ... without warning ...  ... you were adept at hiding from others ... a bold pivot had ended the struggle ... that was then the transformation had occurred ... the blood merged ...  you grabbed ... silence ...   my god you recognized the woman ... the women in the video was your sister ... your sister had  died a decade ago ... a blood disease ... after you sisters’ death your family had changed ... you ...   ... silence ... i had a vague notion of the dream being lost ... the dreamer was grasping the images hoping they wouldn’t vanish ...  unknown ... let me be clear ... i am only a scribe writing the d...

... a battle was about to ensue ... you needed to be patient to find a vein to feel the flow of life  ... to get time on your side and balance the space ... you took the next step plunging into deep mud ... it begins to snow ... someone was lurking ahead ... a lone wolf misfit or a hermit from antiquity who’d abandoned the world zigzags mysteriously ... the vagabond appears hurt blood oozing from a wound ... you feel a pain that hasn’t yet hit him ... you can’t accurately grasp the features of the face ... you need to discover what lies at the core ... something hidden ...  ... i stop writing overcome with nostalgia ... needing time to recover from the shock... the dramatic conversion about to occur is nothing more than traces of a memory induced by a sort of deviance akin to madness ... my burden is to write exactly what is spoken ... abandon etiquette ... my insights are no longer the product of reason ... the violence will be excised ... the episode may be written els...

... do you take any stock of your dreams ... do you make decisions based on your dreams ... are dreams crucially important ... do dreams trigger ... do they make things clear ...can dreams be your friend ...do you ever remember your dreams ... can you ever forget ... can you erase dreams ... do you think about anything else other than your dreams ...  ... i’m reminded of a dream ... i don’t want to restore the dream even if I could ... it would lead to despair ...  yet it was there ... it was there with all its obstacles ... it was a crazy dream ... an unfulfilled dream ... well it had been partially  realized ... like a dream made visible through a fogged up window and you can see your own reflection though not out the window ...  ... you see a physical reflection of yourself in a fog ... walking through this long tunnel in an art gallery ... you’ve entered the back and are walking the wrong way ... at least the opposite of the intended way ... you’re a ...

You play in dreams Blissfully free You shout You work towards dreams They change You age You search new dreams They stop You fail You lose most dreams Feel empty You wonder ... You wish all dreams Would reconcile You laugh You know some dreams Are foolish You cry You watch the dreams Pass by You remember You expand one dream It contracts You resign ... You forget other dreams Too late You reason You memorize last dreams Repeat endlessly You haunt You dream the dreams To death You finalize You dreamed a dream To wake You sigh ::Note::  ... you dreamt... not a dream ...

in the blue-grey lit room  they lie exhale sighs till full vibration open eyes to rose-gold  sunlight breathes  song  ::Note: ... wish everyday started like this day ... At end the day inquired from the student what song he had introduced he replied “For the Dancing and the Dreaming” emailing later ... “The song was written and composed by a man named 'John Powell'. He has composed a very large number of musical numbers for a variety of movies. The arrangement was by a gentleman who goes by the nickname 'ThePandaTooth' he has also done a variety of pieces that can be found around the media world. Here is a link to the original song as performed by the voice actors in the movie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sLcrxhE_xQw I also have here a version of the song by a young vocal artist that I really enjoy as well: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0AgkDJ2NHg This version of the song adds a great amount of soul and care to the piece an...

If ... you stay in one place long enough it will come to pass ...  ... a murder, a fire, a break-in, a flood ... a hack, a robbery, graffiti, rats ... police, dog crap, ladybugs, bats ... cats, needles, dumped mattresses, slashed tires ... smashed windows, a leaky roof, sewer backed up, a car on fire ...  ... piles & piles of leaves ... ... dandelions, caterpillars, spiderwebs, spiders ... rehearsals, concerts, workshops & plays ... smoke alarms, power outages, furnace failure, broken plates ... a song, a dance, a film, a murmur ... english, korean, russian, ukrainien ... masks, mandolines, drums, shakers ... luggage, boxes, bags, sacks ...  ... moss on the roof ... ... tree stumps, rocks, fabric, puppets ... chalk, pens, pencils, paints ... love, hate, shouts, tears ... hugs, slaps, bumps, somersaults ... balls, pucks, birdies, ballons ... broken mirrors, burnt toast, cut fingers, bitten tongue ... lost teeth, black eyes, kidney stones, hea...