In which Our Hero finally does something right
Impulse is not a Sunday afternoon jog; impulse is race day, the gunshot ringing in your ears.
Oftentimes, a theater player starts with strong, vibrant impulse… and then that impulse drops to the floor.
Instead, bring the impulse out to the audience. Up to the sky, sometimes. Never to the floor.
We played a game today where students were caught by their fellows (in a trust-fall sort of way), then launched forward and back across the room, like boxers bouncing off the ropes. The impulse of being thrust forward is unmistakable. The challenge: you must then take the impulse with you as you run, careening to the other side with vibrancy and vigor. Do not confuse impulse with speed. A snail crossing the road can embody more impulse than a hollow-eyed sprinter at 10,000 times the pace.
Now, add text atop the impulse. When you speak Shakespeare, are the words flat? Do they sound like some archetypical Shakespearean Actor, or do they erupt FROM YOUR VERY SOUL???
Impulse is that soul expression. It’s a small green twig poking out through cracked concrete. A baby bird pushed from the nest: now falling, fly or die. Can it use its vigor to propel itself forward? A person on soporific drugs, sapped of their vitality: they lack impulse, which is perhaps why seeing them is such an emotional pain. It reminds us of the lifeless state to which we will one day return.
I felt, today, the vigor of impulse. To land my words on top of this impulse like a pebble skipping across the pond. If each word you say comes with VIGOR, with REALITY, with EXISTENCE, being ENOUGH AS ITSELF,
the ripples will cascade farther than the pebble ever could. Impulse is where creation comes from. And creation is everything.
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I was told today my impulse was good. My voice was good (Our teacher: ”We will not need hearing aids”). My fixed point was good. I remembered the game. As close to a compliment as one receives at this school: I received the lessons and demonstrated them today.
Impulse isn’t mere theory. The day after my breakup, I applied to clown school. That’s impulse. Nurture it. Follow it. Help it grow.
Now, at clown school from October through June, the goal will be: keep the impulse alive. Stoke it. Add fuel as it requires. Harness it when it becomes too spastic. Power forward with the impulse. Even through each fixed point.
Of course the impulse powers through fixed point. You can stop the body, but never The Game.
Julian Wise 