Never have I been so challenged as I have this past month. While my heart rate has had moments of acceleration, this test has been mostly cerebral. I’ve had to work feverishly to awaken latent brain cells and even nurture new ones in my nearly 65 year-old brain. Suddenly I’m learning how to memorize and deliver lines, and how and when to move onstage.

Please don’t misconstrue the following paragraphs as a stream of braggadocio prattle. I am merely trying to present some context about the level of challenges I’ve faced.

I’ve run class III whitewater, in loaded canoes, on remote northern rivers, hundreds of miles from help. I’ve backpacked the precipitous Napali coastline trail on the island of Kauai. I’ve carried a backpack at 14,000 feet along the Inca trail in the Peruvian Andes.

I’ve run a marathon, cycled a century (100-mile) bike ride and a year later cycled a 150-mile up and over Alaska’s majestic Coastal Mountain range. I’ve cross country skied the 55-kilometer Birkebiener ski race.

I’ve slept outside in late December with no tent when the mercury dipped to -38°F. I have been bitten by a piranha in a Costa Rica river. And have been 30 yards from a Yukon grizzly as it walked into our remote river camp.

But playing Pa Joad in the Grapes of Wrath has pushed all my limits. How would I memorize all the lines and movements. After the second night of practice, I was utterly despondent and any self -confidence was blasted away like an Oklahoma farm during the Dust Bowl. I wanted to quit. That night I slept miserably. To continue and fail would not only be embarrassing but it would let down a wonderful cast.

My wife, Nancy, is also in the play as Ma Joad. She is a musician who is seasoned in performing. She has played roles in other productions including three one-woman shows she wrote. While not entirely a rookie, I was in a couple of high school plays, a community rendition of A Christmas Carol and I wrote and performed a one-person show.

Nancy, being the excellent life coach she is, nursed me along with supportive words. And Jackie, the play’s director, handled me well, balancing feedback with needed criticisms and praise.

Her mantra to all of the actors is to “Move with intention.” These are wise words for living.

We are days from opening night. I’m fairly comfortable with my lines. In fact I have come to enjoy several of them for their humor and for the fact that I ain’t got to be proper in my delivery.

Not only have I had to learn poor grammar, but also I’ve had to explore “the whys” of Pa to understand his emotions and situations. Jackie has demanded, when necessary, that I toss out any Minnesota Nice delivery and release my “mean dad” voice.

To complicate things, we often deliver lines while changing props and scenery.

How will I ever remember to cross stage to my far right to pick up the toolbox after I deliver a totally unrelated line? Clearly, I’ve got more trailblazing to do in my brain.

But oddly enough, the stretching of neurons in my cranium has made me feel better and I do feel sharper. I am growing new connections in both my brain and with a cast of fine people.

Granted, moments before the opening night performance, my stomach will be home to roosts of butterflies. But I will be intentional and I ain’t gonna let it stop me.

The lesson learned here is more than perseverance. I need to be more mindful of being more intentional all the time and to walk confidently on to all life stages.

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