The Healing Power of Theater

This first tidbit has nothing to do with anything, but I was tempted to use the British spelling "theatre" in the title of this post instead of the American "theater." Somehow, the American spelling looks vulgar to me today, though the British still looks a little silly. Anyway. I digress.

There have been numerous studies done that illustrate the actual physical and psychological benefits of participating in artistic endeavors, be it music therapy or art therapy or just the general sense of well-being and calm or heightened creativity one experiences after watching a play. I think most of us know by now that art is good for you. "Earth without art is just eh," as the saying goes.

The thing is, it never ceases to amaze me what happens to me physically when I get on stage. Be it a performance or a rehearsal, the physiological transformation stuns me every time.

I bring this up because it is that time of year when my sinuses need to remind me that they are the ones wearing the pants in our relationship. And by "pants," I mean "slimy mucous balls of goo." I don't have a very large nose to begin with, so it doesn't take much to fill it up and make it difficult to breathe, so it is entirely possible my issues with my sinuses are not nearly as bad as the issues other people have with theirs. But I will tell you that I woke up this morning, completely plugged up, with that tingly feeling in the roof of my mouth and my teeth that you get right before you sneeze, but it lasted for probably fifteen to twenty seconds. Before you poo-poo that feeling, pull out a stopwatch and time out twenty seconds. Then imagine being literally (pronounced the way Rob Lowe says it on Parks and Recreation) on the brink of a sneeze for twenty seconds. My teeth actually hurt by the time I finally sneezed. And the sneeze didn't feel nearly as cathartic as it should have for all of that build up.

In short, my head feels like ass.

In rehearsal last night, though, I felt perfectly fine. The little twinge in my knee didn't bother me. I barely had to sniffle. I only sneezed after coming off stage. So what is is about the theater, about being on stage, that cures whatever ails me?

I would like to think it is part of the transformation into another character. I would like to think that I am living so honestly inside someone else's life that she doesn't take on my sniffles, aches, creaks and pains. I would like to think it is an indication that I am doing something right when I'm up there.

Though it does also make me wonder if my ailments are partially psychosomatic and when I get on stage where I have other things to think about, they go away.

In any case, theater is good for me. Theater heals me. And I can't wait to get back on stage.