I am excited to share that as a current graduate student in the Master of Fine Arts (MFA) Theatre Education and Applied Theatre program at Emerson College, I am hosting a series of free, virtual workshops this fall to explore themes of connection, belonging, and empathy as part of my MFA thesis project (more details about the project are below, including a downloadable version of the call).

Interested in being part of the free series? Have a friend you think might want to join us? Please contact me at melissa_bergstrom@emerson.edu if you have questions or you would like to learn more, and I would be happy to connect.

A huge thank you for considering!


About the Workshops
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Applied Theatre utilizes theatre games, storytelling exercises, and a variety of creative activities in nontraditional theatre settings, adapting them for a variety of purposes, including exploring self-expression, cultivating empathy and connection with others, and working towards social, cultural, or political change. 

As part of her MFA Thesis Project this fall, Melissa Bergstrom is facilitating a series of three, free virtual workshops that use community-based story circles, storytelling, writing prompts, and drama exercises to explore themes of connection, belonging, and empathy.

Seeking Participants 

Melissa Bergstrom is currently seeking six to eight participants, who are:

• Age 18 or older;
• Interested and available to attend all three virtual workshops (all dates / times below). The final workshop will include a sharing session at the end, during which participants will get the opportunity to share their stories for a small invited audience.
  

There is no cost to participate, and no theatre experience is necessary. All participants must sign a consent form.

Workshop Dates 

• Sunday, September 19th, 3:00 - 5:30 pm ET
• Sunday, September 26th, 3:00 - 5:30 pm ET
• Sunday, October 3rd, 3:00 - 6:30 pm ET (The last hour will be the informal sharing session for a small invited audience.)

About Melissa Bergstrom

Melissa Bergstrom is a Boston, Massachusetts based actor, playwright, teaching artist, and current graduate student in the Master of Fine Arts (MFA) Theatre Education and Applied Theatre program at Emerson College.

Big news, Friends! The documentary play that I co-wrote with Kate Marple back in 2015 is finding a new digital life this spring with the wonderful students of Lenoir-Rhyne University, under the deft direction of Dr. Lindsay Weitkamp (everything she touches is magic), and I couldn't be more grateful or giddy.  From now until March 24th, you can visit this link to watch Big Work anytime you like (as many times as you like) for FREE!

Also available to watch via the YouTube link above are two panel discussions with me, Kate, Lindsay, and some wonderful folks at the University, chatting about life purpose, big life questions during the pandemic, and building a life that feels meaningful outside of the workplace.

Big Work is a documentary play created from interviews with more than 40 folks across the US that examines what it means to both make a living and create a life. This play was one I co-created early on in my documentary theatre journey (how was this six years ago already?) and though my artistic wheels continue to turn and experiment in different ways, I'll be forever grateful for the chance to make this play, as it completely transformed the way I think about my own day jobs and my work in the world:

Job=how I make money
Work in the world=my deeper purpose and reason for getting up in the morning.

Goodness knows I have been musing about my relationships with day jobs and creativity for a long time (my essay about day jobs and artistry was published in Howround back in 2015). The equations above have changed the way I feel about how I walk in the world and have immeasurably affected my self worth when it comes to work. Sometimes "job" and "work" crossover, sometimes they don't, and because I got to make this play, I know the difference, and I'm at peace with that process. 

Also, not for nothing, I was the kid that dreamed of acting and writing when she was grown up (as you will learn more about if you watch the play, as I'm a character in it - I know, theatre can get weird sometimes!), so grown up Melissa is feeling all kinds of great big gratitude to get to make theatre all these years later.
Theatre can entertain, education, advocate, expose, elevate, and heal. I'll go to my grave ever grateful to be able to have built a life in this space, even considering all the challenges, droughts, doubts, and (inner) critics. Dreams matter. Stories matter. Always. Keep. GOING.

As always, bowled over by your support many of you have sent my way this week! I am grateful to every single generous person who shared their story with us for the play, and for all of you who continue to lend your enthusiasm to whatever it is that I happen to be making in the moment.

Friends, on the heels of my most recent post about reclaiming the campfire when it comes to our storytelling roots, I am thrilled to announce that The Perpetual Visitors Theatre (my Boston based company) is hosting a FREE virtual story circle event on Sunday, March 7th at 1:00 pm ET, and I would love to see you there. I will be co-facilitating with my theatre company partner, Kate Marple, and we are so excited to offer this chance to gather and connect with folks during what continues to be a trying time to be human.

What is a story circle you ask? Great question, thanks for inquiring! As you can read on our registration page, the purpose of a story circle is to build or strengthen a sense of community within a group, to examine differences, and / or to explore social challenges through their own lives. During a story circle, a small group of people gather to each share a personal story about a specific topic or theme. In a story circle, there is no audience; everyone shares, and everyone listens with complete attention. Once everyone has told their story, participants comment on the strengths and power they see in others’ stories and draw connections between others’ stories and their own. They are a powerful tool for seeing others and for being seen. Story circles have a rich history – from Indigenous communities who used them to draw out communal experiences and make decisions for the good of the community to the Free Southern Theater that used story circles during the Civil Rights Movement to open dialogue around the topic of race and create theater pieces to reflect those stories back to larger communities.

On March 7th, we will be sharing stories focused on how we are each seeking beauty, hope, and connection during these different days. It's free, but we do ask that you kindly register in advance. You don’t need to prepare anything, simply sign on and be willing to share and listen. This is a community event, not a performance, so no theatre experience is necessary. Imagine being gathered around a (virtual) campfire exchanging stories. 

I'm so grateful for how I get to connect with you in this blog space, and I truly hope that you are interested in connecting in a story circle setting as well. I'd welcome the chance to get to share my story and to listen to yours.

Questions? Want more information as you consider registering? Toss a comment below or send me a message and I'd love to see if I can help. 

When I read this quote for the first time, I immediately had to read it a second time. Something clicked deep in my bones. These new to me words took my breath away with how much big truth was stuffed into the small letters, staring back at me from the tiny screen of my smartphone. I didn't feel alone anymore reading it, despite being by myself in my dining room on a gray January day.

One of the reasons that I am a storyteller is that I believe that by sharing stories out loud, stories that we previously stuffed down into the darkest corners of our hearts and minds, stories we believe make us broken, flawed, or beyond loving, we suddenly find that someone listening says “Me too.”

It’s alchemy. Some might say magic. It's human - which might be the most miraculous of all things, no?

In the speaking of a story, we release the burden we believe we alone carried, own the experience that is both ours and universal, and find the support we didn’t know we needed.

Validation that we weren’t sure we’d ever be granted.

Imagination that can fuel the building of a life and works where everyone can thrive.

We conjure connections that come from the risk of sharing something authentic and honest and messy. In showing ourselves to someone else, we surrender to the truth that we are human. That we are whole. That we are worthy of being listened to.

Storytelling is ancient. Primal. Our very cells are wired for story. Stories about the past still smolder with life, stories bring us into the present moment, and stories are how we invent the future. Stories MATTER. 

Our ancestors told stories around the campfire, underneath a constellation strewn sky. Stories were part of what it meant to be part of a circle of community. Stories meant learning, dreaming, deliberating, understanding how we all belong. 

Now we sit alone in the dark with the glow of our phones taking the place of the stars and the furnace standing in for the bright blaze that we once built with our own hands.  Google prevents us from experiencing wonder and sinking into the Big Whys  and our social media accounts favor the ME and forgo the community that we are trying to connect with in the first place. 

We are saturated, but not satisfied.

Overstimulated but underwhelmed.

We think there must be more.

It’s our time to reclaim the campfire.

                                                                                                                  ***

I used to think “When I die, what if all I did was tell stories? What good will that do?”

Now I think “When I die, I will have spent my life telling stories.” 

GO. Tell stories. Make space for others to share stories. Listen. Deeply. Listen some more. Ask people to tell you a story about their first love, their best friend, their secret dream, hell, what they ate for dinner. Read stories, write stories, dance them out, throw stories with on a canvas. Do whatever it is that allows you to share your story with someone else, someone who unbeknownst to you, might need to hear it. Someone whose life might depend on it.