I’m depressive. Six or seven years ago I didn’t know if I had the stuff to stay alive. This was after a MacArthur grant and two Tony awards, but still everything was like sawdust. So what do you do? One way through is to keep working. Going to therapy is another. So is looking into the eyes of the people who love you. For me, that’s the man I married, Bjorn [Amelan], as well as my associate artistic director, Janet Wong, who whenever I’m despairing, looks at me in a way that says, “Why are you indulging in this? It’s not who you are. We have work to do.” So doubt is fought by love and commitment to something bigger. And I take it to be sacred doubt. I come from potato pickers, poor people. Why am I not a doctor or a stockbroker? Because when I discovered the magic of arms and legs and time and space and an audience being moved by someone going from there to there, suddenly that was my religion.