[I'll elaborate on emotional memory later on - this is a lesson that needed to be discussed right now, however, so we'll talk details and specifics in another post.]
A professor of mine at school described the acting tool of "emotional memory" as a swinging door (I always pictured one of those old west saloon doors, but a little tougher and harder to get through) that requires a muscle to open and close.
Human beings, by their nature, are very adept at closing those emotional doors. As a defense mechanism, we tend to hide our feelings and bottle up all intense emotion. Learning to access this emotion, these taught, barricaded feelings, is definitely something that takes practice.
I tried using in-class exercises, but for one reason or another I could never open up the way some other people did. Asking personal questions never prompted an emotional response - my saloon doors never even started to swing open. I didn't even know how to get them to start moving. I could shut them to hide anger or fear or sadness in everyday life, but opening them is so against our nature it's very hard to do.
I began to learn how tonight. Yeah, maybe it did take some rough emotional times in my life. Maybe it did require some booze to loosen my tongue, but one way or another it happened.
I felt it deep down, that buried sensation of being able to cry, under layers and layers and layers (I personally feel it behind my face, far back, but still pressing up from my chest and behind my face - it may be different for you - be aware of the small, distinct feelings like this. It will help you access emotion and action later on) pressed back behind my face, coming up from my heart area. I knew I could, but I've never known how - I said so. I don't know how - it's there, but I can't get to it. The muscle that opens the doors is too weak.
He said, "What scares you? On a deeper level, what are you the most afraid of? Losing something, anything, what scares you?"
And I knew exactly what it was. I felt my instinct trying to push it down, to make it go away. It's just my nature to hide it - it's all of our natures to hide our weaknesses and hurt. I felt it in my brain and then, the strangest thing, I could
physically feel those doors I was talking about before, I could
truly feel them moving and cracking open. And as they opened, he kept talking to me and I was afraid at first, but two tears ran down my nose and then I couldn't stop. I needed to cry.
I was aware of those doors, and every time they started to shut I just remembered what was hurting me so badly, what I was so scared of right then in my life, and I could reopen the doors. As much of a therapy session as it was (and it was, trust me), I exist in my actor's mind, so I'm always working on something. And this was a major step in accessing emotion for me. It was good to cry. I haven't cried for a very, very, very long time.
Feeling is a frightening thing. It's not tangible, it's not truly logical, and we try to protect ourselves from it. But as an actor, we have to be able to access those feelings to be able to portray a true person trying to protect themselves from their own emotions. You can't bury an emotion that isn't truly there. All part of the learning process.
And I needed that hug. More than I think he'll ever know.
