The stagethough terrifying and intimidating to some with its grand and daunting heightcolossal and open spacetorrid and incandescent spotlights and the vulnerability it createsis my favorite place to be. Its smooth, charcoal surface freshly painted to hide its chips and flawsis where my feet love to stand.On that hard, polished, simplistic dark exteriorshoes glide effortlessly.  While vacant, this stage is an empty canvaswaiting to be painted onbegging to be painted on.I am its painterbrush poised above the canvasready to make it come alivewith my heartmy bodyand my soul. Silently and softlythis stage is a siren singing to a fishermanluring him to the vast sea. Daringly, the effulgent lights are blinding their purpose not only to illuminate the stagebut to block out the real world for the actor.  As the actor’s reality fades in the blazing lightsa magical kingdomeerie woodssunlit gardenexotic islandor delightful little cottage is spawnedand the actor transforms into a king, queen prince, princesspeasant, knighthero, or villain.  When I sense this anticipationthis emptiness of a blank slatefilled with possibilityI can’t help butignore all of the stage’s deterring angles. After stepping onto the stageI never want to leave