It has been a strange duality to embody; the spirits of hope and doubt individually take up most of the space in my mind and body. For them to both exist simultaneously seems nearly impossible to me. Yet, here I am writing this in an incredibly hopeful state while knowing that nothing is certain right now.

Performers can hear those coughs and stirs from the stage as well. We are challenged by them. We calibrate our acting with the breath and heartbeat of our audiences nightly. It is true that the heartbeats of live audiences synchronize when seeing a play. Actors wait for the applause to crest before breaking from the button of a musical number and moving into the next moment. We hold for the laugh and, even though we think we know where the laughs will fall, our time onstage (and off) is spent on pins-and-needles knowing each audience is unique and ultimately not ours to control, but to be present with. We know that at any moment it could all fall apart, but we lean into the fiction of our story while holding space for the unknown, the real.

 At Ghostlight Theater Camp, we are leaning into our hope, even while we hold space for the unknown. We have rehearsed for this, as one would rehearse a play. We have spent years connecting, creating, and supporting each other in good times and bad. We have wept, laughed, and held our breath together. This moment is simply a matter of doing what we do best, leaning into our community and our optimism. We know, even if looks different than we imagined, the show must go on.