There's a trick kids do, squeezing the fingers of one hand around the wrist of the other. Rubbing and squeezing until all the blood is gone. Your hand feels dull, grey, and cold, Suddenly, they let go, and the blood pours back in. It feels fizzy and dizzy and bubbling, like your hand is violently being flooded with life, fighting with energy and pulsing inside itself.
In rehearsal, I listen in the wings as a voice floods the stage. She hits a tender point, and her voice catches in a sob, emotion raking her throat. My heart freezes and that same tingling feeling races up my spine, making me shiver.
I don't know what it is, or why it happens. Maybe it's the thrill of performance, or raw emotion, or catharsis. That's why I do theater. For the rush of tingling dizziness that makes me feel alive.
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