That is not the whole story

     I remember the first time I saw Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods.  I had attended a school production where the director had decided it would only be appropriate to put on the first act.  The music was fun, the story cute, and the lyrical rhymes of Mr. Sondheim were pure genius.  However, my sister informed me that this production was not the full story, and she had me watch the entire Broadway production that had been filmed for PBS with the original Broadway Cast.

            Of course, now I have seen this show countless times in countless places, including the Disney movie produced only a few years ago, and it is one of my favorite pieces of musical theatre.  I have never forgotten the importance of the lesson of my sister that day: that is not the whole story.  At the end of act one, as the narrator points out, everyone is happy ever after.  All the stories have been tied up in pretty bows with their neat little endings, all the bad guys have been punished, and all the characters have gotten their wishes. It is the happy ending we have become accustom to seeing and expecting within our entertainment and often our lives.

            The second act has a more realistic take on what happens after happy ever after.  What goes on behind the scenes of what is seemingly perfect.  And the lesson of not understanding the whole story is something that has spilled into my life and helped me to be a more empathic person.  It has also helped me in my profession, learning to not take things at face value, and understand that there is often more to the story that people do not want to share, that they are afraid to share, so they put on the face of happy ever after. 

            One of my countless flaws is that I find myself jealous of others at times, especially others who have natural beauty and bodies that fit the societal expectation of thinness and attractiveness.  As a forever short, stumpy, chubby girl, this is something I admit has left me  with feelings of inferiority and imperfection.  It has only been within the last few years that I have opened my eyes to the larger story.  One of my dearest friends is someone who is thinner as a mother of three kids than I was in sixth grade, and she runs marathons. Seriously.  Marathons.  I spent a great deal of time jealous of her. At one point during our friendship, she confessed to me her struggles with depression, the difficulty she has had finding the right medication, and the challenge she has on a daily basis to face life.  I was floored.  Her was this beautiful woman, three lovely kids, fabulous husband, seems to have it all, and she struggles to get out of bed.  I did not have the whole story.  My jealousy was based upon the fairy tale I had chosen to believe.  I had ended her story at act one.

            And so it goes.  The friend who married her high school sweetheart and has more talent in her pinky than anyone I have ever met, I watched her marriage fall apart in a manner similar to mine.  The fun and spunky friend who seems to never be down, her family almost lost their home due to job loss.  Friends who do not live authentically based on fear of prejudice or shame, friends who work hard for something that just doesn’t come their way, friends whose loved ones hurt or cheat or abuse them.  Do we have the real story?  Or are will holding on to a jealous picture of what is likely just a beautiful yet first act façade. 

            The genius of Sondheim continues even further, because while the reality of act two, or the reality of our own lives may not have bows or frills, or neat dreams, it does have something much more important.  It has empathy and true understanding.  In what lands on any list of my favorite musical songs, Sondheim teaches the truth that some things are bad, some things are good, “bad” people can be good, and no one is alone. You may be angry at a person who harmed you.  They are not alone.  You may feel lost, like no one is on your side.  You are not alone.  “Sometimes people leave you, halfway through the wood.” We open our hearts to love, care, connect, and sometimes our hearts are broken, stomped on, and left alone.  But, no one is alone.  When I have been at my lowest and my worst, I have had friends who come to me, and show me that they have always been there, they have always cared.  What is more important is that when I have been at my worst, I have been able to open my eyes and see others there with me.  Others that need to be picked up, brushed off, and encouraged forward.

            Because that is the final beauty of it all.  When you have the whole story, you get to enjoy the happy ever after moments, learn from the difficult moments, connect in the tender moments, and build even more “moments in the woods.”  Thanks to a full viewing and understanding of Into the Woods, “I know things now, many valuable things that I never thought to explore.”

            Musical Theatre has taught me to open my eyes, explore my world, connect 

to those in my path, and look at the whole story.