Listen to thisLast night I heard playwright, filmmaker and story writer Sam Shepard read in Taos New Mexico. I have always liked his work. In his character’s dialog and actions he has this incredible ability to create a sense that something is sitting at the edge of their consciousness that they can not grasp. It is there in the spaces between the words pulling them forward and influencing the way they are behaving. In movies like Paris Texas, the play Fool for Love and many of his short stories, the reader/viewer is captivated by trying to figure it out. What’s going on that’s not being said. We want to know even if the characters don’t. Something is making them behave this way. What is it? The tension for the characters can be almost unbearable at times it seems. And then in other stories or character sketches he uses a similar technique to make us laugh. There is a sad yet uplifting quality to his humor because somehow he is able to see and show it in the context of a human condition that resonates with what we have experienced.
Most of his work is about character, not story per se. He develops his characters and what they do in a way that interests us. We can see and relate to people in his sketches and doing this we learn something about them and us. His characters and dialog feel real because, although they are not “Xerox copies,” they are based on people he knew, including himself, and his experiences, many of which occurred in his youth. Similarly the scenes he creates in his sketches draw us in. There is a sense of place we can relate to or want to know.
So it is sometimes in youth work. Much of youth work occurs in those spaces between the words, the pauses and times when we are communicating with actions rather than words. We are in these moments with youth, our own and others. Often, however, in writing or talking about the work we tend to steer away from this very important part of the work. We want to prove or make it better or show how it works, rather than describe how it is as we see it, and learn from what it is while we let our actions together take us where it will. This is not to minimize the fears and anxieties many youth have about the known and unknown. These feelings are real for them, and as workers we should as best as we can, help them understand and learn from these feelings.
What I am suggesting is that sometimes it is better just to let it go, not to try to seek an answer or make it better and instead just to be in these moments to see where they take a youth and us. Knowing when and when not to do this of course is another one of the master competencies in our work, but there is something to be studied and learned from here. How do we as workers as characters with youth learn to let the situation evolve to a point of discovery? How do we allow ourselves to be between the words listening and hearing “that something” just at the edge?
Most of Sam Shepard's characters are troubled. They are dealing with loss, addiction, and many other problems that we can relate to. Life is not perfect in a Shepard sketch, play, or film. When asked about how he is able to capture the essence of their experience, he says it’s “all in the music.” There is a rhythm that carries the moments, actions, and words in a way that makes us curious about what happened or is happening. The tension is palpable and unbearable. We want to stay and leave; look at and away. We should listen more for the music in our work, get to know the spaces between. Maybe something will appear at the edge, just beyond our reach and compel us to stay there for a moment longer. Maybe we will hear something we haven’t heard?
