Hubris

Around the time that we began the Raks Nativity project, I learned the word "hubris": exaggerated pride or self-confidence. In other words, "who do you think you are?" And secretly I would tell myself – this is hubris, doing this. Who do I think I am? I'm not an established choreographer, a well-known teacher, or even someone that has put on a small hafli. So what am I doing? But, I told myself – I had this vision, this idea, and so, who better to do it? If I don't do this, who will?

Nevertheless, I planned for small things, a small theater with a small financial investment, small expectations for the event, and small demands on my cast. I didn't want to overextend. After all, it was the very first time I was doing many of these things. Sure, I can dance – but I had never choreographed for more than two people before. I hadn't written and directed a show aside from that time in sixth grade. I hadn't even acted in any community theater since I was eighteen. I certainly had never asked people to put their faith in me, first the performers who agreed to put in hard work and effort into this newborn show, and the audience, who had never seen a show like this – and not from me.

With encouragement from my co-producers, we forged ahead, even when things seemed darkest, like when our original choice for roles were injured, when we lost the full involvement of one co-producer for a time, or when only a few people showed up for auditions. At the very beginning, we even got rejected from a charity! They did not want our money, I kid you not. Bravery was required when I signed the contract with the lighting/sound technician, knowing that my nightly anxiety attacks would end (and they did) once I knew that we'd have that taken care of – but committing a large portion of my expected proceeds to this cost – the first one I couldn't just pay out of pocket.

I do credit my own project management experience in some of this. I evaluated the risks – running late for example – and tried to mitigate them. I kept endless documentation and sliced and diced the show data in dozens of ways, providing documents for different people according to their needs. I organized a collaborative website to communicate with my co-producers. I used my technical skills to create the website and set up the online payment, and then my writing skills to write press releases and occasional email blasts. So, that's the special thing I have brought to the table – the skills I use daily in my completely unrelated day job – that not every dancer or show-organizer has. So who the heck am I? A technical project manager AND a dancer, and I needed both to pull this off. Cool.

Of course, our cast members all came to the table with their own talents, from graphic design, to stage management experience, musical theater, a collection of Middle Eastern clothing, local knowledge, and technical writing. Everyone contributed in ways more than their performance alone. For the scenes themselves, it's important to note that while the broad framework – and in some cases the choreography – was set forth for the performers – the performers brought their own ideas, choreography (or improvisation), and creativity.

So it is with some amazement that I look back at Raks Nativity two weeks ago. That thanks to the hard work and diligence of all involved, we had a seamless show in a nearly sold-out hall. Friends came through and played our bit roles, in some cases, becoming the stars of the show (hellllo sheep!). We raised more than my meager expectations for the charity, adding to that number with the DVD sales. Now I must face one of my greatest demons – math! – as I calculate for the expenses versus the profits, and the money which is stored in various formats – cash, PayPal, checks – and try to bundle it into a single donation for Cradles to Crayons.

Happy holidays to all in this cold and yet generous season and here's a toast to things to come in 2011!