There have been times that we've had arguments with Brad [Dourif] because he comes in with very strong ideas and, as in any working relationship, sometimes you're going to disagree, and he always goes to the mat and I've just always appreciated that attitude, that he takes it so seriously.
On the way out to the car, Philip turns to me. “How could you be so stupid? I shrug, stung in spite of myself. “I thought I grew out of it. ” Philip pulls out his key fob and presses the remote to unlock his Mercedes. I slide into the passenger side, brushing coffee cups off the seat and onto the floor mat, where crumpled printouts from MapQuest soak up any spilled liquid. “I hope you mean sleepwalking,” Philip says, “since you obviously didn’t grow out of stupid.
I try and get on my yoga mat at least three times a week, and if I don't, things start to unravel. I admire routine and ritual, but I am not inherently good at keeping a schedule. I eat at different times every day, I wake up at different times, I change my mind about things I was so sure of the day before. Perhaps I am too passionate, too willing to bend the rules in the name of fun, or to pass the time, or who knows what? Being on stage is truly what puts it all into perspective, and after I get on stage, I take a moment to reflect, and I am set for another 24 hours.
I have never got on with the quietist movements: they lapse too easily into self-congratulations: I have found the oneness, you have not. I prefer to look outside myself if I possibly can, not inside. Meditation reminds me too forcibly of being made to lie on a mat at nursery school and take an hour's nap.