Turn off my Brain

I wish that I could just switch off my brain sometimes.  Like a light bulb, poof, it's off, no more thoughts to nag at me.  As good as my life is, I am still plagued with the thoughts of "something more."  Am I doing all I can with my life?  Am I following the right path?  Can I still make a difference in the lives of others? 

I love the theatre.  I love my job, but sometimes I wonder if it is where I am suppose to be.  I know I've been given these talents and passions for a reason.  I love the people.  I love the plays.  I love the human connections.  So why is it harder and harder for me to step up to the challenge?

I've let my "calling" supersede my physical and emotional well-being.  I have not made my physical or emotional health a priority.  I think my body is kicking at me and saying "attention must be paid."  These old habits are hard to break.  I didn't have the option of not working long days for a good while.  The work had to get done, but surely I could have found more time for myself.

It seems like I'm being pulled in so many directions and everyone has an opinion about what I should be doing or how I should be doing it.  I am always open to suggestions of how I can improve myself or the work and I take many of those ideas and thoughts to heart and appreciate them.  But sometimes I just grow weary.

I am weary.  I am unhealthy and exhausted.  Still I press on.  I just pray that I can accept myself and be willing to do whatever it takes to get back to that "healthy" place again.  And if I am suppose to be doing something else, I hope God uses a big neon sign or the Goodyear blimp to let me know...cause right now I'm not sure I'd notice anything less than that.  And maybe the lack of a sign means I'm doing what I'm suppose to be doing and that I just need a nap.

Come to my Garden

This has been a delightful experience.  The music of "The Secret Garden" reaches deep into my heart and unlocks a sense of wonder within me.  I'm thankful to watch it "grow" every performance.

I want the time to dig in the dirt and plant some seeds.  To feel the coolness beneath the surface, to reach past the topsoil into the layer of memories neatly packed below.  The child in me needs a bit of earth to call my own, to have the faith and patience to watch something come from a tiny seed and bloom into something beautiful, something to care for, something delicate and yet can withstand the elements that it is natural built to withstand.  A bit of earth.  A bit of earth. A bit of earth.

When is enough...just right.

We can't just be a model. 
We have to be America's TOP model.
And we can't just be America's TOP model.
We have to be a producer with our own show top model.
And we can't just be a producer top model.
We have to have our own clothing line as well.
blah, blah, blah...

When did we decide that being good at one thing wasn't enough?
I mean my advanced degree is a Masters.  I've mastered a skill or a set of skills.
What if we asked Harper Lee to not only write but also be a seamstress?
What if we made Andy Warhol write grants?
Mozart - sculpt?

I think we should focus more on strengthening our strengths rather than developing our mediocre skills and just let our weaknesses be acknowledged and move on.

I think I'm really good at mediocre right now.
I'm better than that! 

I'm gonna get the chance soon to be good at something again.
I'm looking forward to returning to that true sense of self.
Oh that we could provide that opportunity for others whenever we can.
I'm going back to polishing the pearl and I am excited.  That is my greatest strength. 
I may be really tired but this ol' gal still gets excited.
I just gotta hold on to finish what I have begun (to quote The Secret Garden).

Hold the course, stay the path...one step at a time and I'll look up to see that I'm there - again.

After a bit of rest and a break...
Maybe it'll be just right.

Sleep

How long can a human go on just mere moments of restful sleep over a long period of time?
I guess I'm the experiment, but who's going to measure the outcome.

I can only truly sleep if there's medication involved.  And the hangover the next day is hardly worth it.

My doctor says a nightly routine is the answer.  Routine, I know.  Who can have a routine when you consistently work 12 hour days?  I mean really.  Are there labor laws that protect theater people?  Apparently not.

I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I'm glad.  When I finally get to that light, I'm gonna look around for any ghost or goblins, shoo them away, flip that light off, and then sleep like there's no tomorrow.  Pleasant slumber at last.  That's the light I hope I see.

Well good night then.  Ha.  Good and Night in the same sentence.  I mean really.  Come on. 

A girl can dream though.  Can't she?

Here's me headed off to try.

Good and Bad

I am unhealthy.  I am tired.  I am sick and tired of some things that annoy me.  I sometimes think I'm growing too old too quickly. 

BUT...
Sometimes
on days like today...I think - if I just believe hard enough and wake every cell in my body with the Crimson Prayer "Lord help us all!"  that Bama will win the game.   I feel like a 16 year old girl who did not get kissed at the end of her first date.  My guts wrenched at the loss.  But I feel youthful and alive.  Because I believe that we must get back on that proverbial horse and ride and win again.  Just like Peter Pan and Tink - "I believe!  I believe!"

So I still love my big beefy Bama boys but I would not want to be even one of them this week on the practice field or in the locker room!  And that's what I love about Nick Saban.  He makes me feel alive.

And on top of that...I ate good food and excellent cheesecake.  And although it was bad for me...it sure tastes good and that makes me feel good, when I need to feel good after such a loss.

And life is serious when it comes to football.  And often makes me feel so good.  But even when it makes me feel bad, it's good cause it is a place to put my passion.

I sometimes think I've lost my passion for theatre.  It has become my job and sometimes a burden.  It has cost me my health and my mind sometimes.  But still, I love it.  At times.  And other times I think I could walk away from it and never miss it. 

But it still excites me to see a show and dream about what that show would be like if I were doing it with the good actors I know and love.   And that makes me like theatre again...so for the time being, even though it is bad, it can still be good.  And I guess I'll stick with it for now.

I'd like some rest.  I'd like a vacation.  I'd like to be thinner.  I'd like to be healthy.  I'd like to have less stress.  But it is relative, I suppose.  And althought sometimes it can be bad...ultimately it is all good. 

Or at least until something better comes along!

And my prayer tonight is -
"God be with those Bama boys and let them know we love them and still support them.  And God give them the strength to win next week because after all it is Ol' Miss and Homecoming.  And God keep those 'other' fans away from me for a day or two - because I might just take their head off.
 And God thank you for good friends and for Ernie and for cheesecake and for theatre.
Roll Tide and Amen."

An inspiration

I thought about Bill Coffin today and decided to go back and read the words that always seem to inspire me.

I had the joyful experience of spending an afternoon with Bill Coffin.  He was the kind of man that enjoyed getting to know people.  You knew he could tell within an instant if you were being authentic or not.  We laughed and talked a lot about his dear friend Arthur Miller, who also happened to me one of my heroes.  The afternoon was simple sipping iced tea at his kitchen table in his sweet old house in Vermont.  Beautiful, peaceful little town.  

My brother told me what a great theologian and preacher Bill was.  I knew he'd been a freedom rider and that he'd been spiritual adviser to MLK, Jr. among other great leaders.  But you would have never known by his attitude or appearance that he was anything other than just a kindly spirited older man who loved the little things in life and loved sharing with others.  His book CREDO is profoundly interesting, but these words have been an amazing comfort and inspiration to me.  Just felt like sharing this today.   

(Beth, you may recognize some of these words.  I sent this to Andy for Bob's Eulogy.  I think of you so often and hope that as the days are passing that you find "peace in the dazzling grace that always is."  I miss Bob. I miss you.)

Transcript - William Sloane Coffin's Eulogy for Alex Ten days after his son, Alex, was killed in a car accident, Reverend William Sloane Coffin delivered this sermon to his congregation at Riverside Church in New York City. As almost all of you know, a week ago last Monday night, driving in a terrible storm, my son — Alexander — who to his friends was a real day-brightener, and to his family "fair as a star when only one is shining in the sky" — my twenty-four-year-old Alexander, who enjoyed beating his old man at every game and in every race, beat his father to the grave. Among the healing flood of letters that followed his death was one carrying this wonderful quote from the end of Hemingway's "A Farewell to Arms": "The world breaks everyone, then some become strong at the broken places." My own broken heart is mending, and largely thanks to so many of you, my dear parishioners; for if in the last week I have relearned one lesson, it is that love not only begets love, it transmits strength. When a person dies, there are many things that can be said, and there is at least one thing that should never be said. The night after Alex died I was sitting in the living room of my sister's house outside of Boston, when the front door opened and in came a nice-looking, middle-aged woman, carrying about eighteen quiches. When she saw me, she shook her head, then headed for the kitchen, saying sadly over her shoulder, "I just don't understand the will of God." Instantly I was up and in hot pursuit, swarming all over her. "I'll say you don't, lady!" I said. For some reason, nothing so infuriates me as the incapacity of seemingly intelligent people to get it through their heads that God doesn't go around this world with his fingers on triggers, his fists around knives, his hands on steering wheels. God is dead set against all unnatural deaths. And Christ spent an inordinate amount of time delivering people from paralysis, insanity, leprosy, and muteness. Which is not to say that there are no nature-caused deaths — I can think of many right here in this parish in the five years I've been here — deaths that are untimely and slow and pain-ridden, which for that reason raise unanswerable questions, and even the specter of a Cosmic Sadist — yes, even an Eternal Vivisector. But violent deaths, such as the one Alex died — to understand those is a piece of cake. As his younger brother put it simply, standing at the head of the casket at the Boston funeral, "You blew it, buddy. You blew it." The one thing that should never be said when someone dies is "It is the will of God." Never do we know enough to say that. My own consolation lies in knowing that it was not the will of God that Alex die; that when the waves closed over the sinking car, God's heart was the first of all our hearts to break. I mentioned the healing flood of letters. Some of the very best, and easily the worst, knew their Bibles better than the human condition. I know all the "right" biblical passages, including "Blessed are those who mourn," and my faith is no house of rest, came from fellow reverends, a few of whom proved they knew their cards; these passages are true, I know. But the point is this. While the words of the Bible are true, grief renders them unreal. The reality of grief is the absence of God — "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" The reality of grief is the solitude of pain, the feeling that your heart is in pieces, your mind's a blank, that "there is no joy the world can give like that it takes away." (Lord Byron). anyone's protection, just for everyone's unending support. And that's what hundreds of you understood so beautifully. You gave me what God gives all of us — minimum protection, maximum support. I swear to you, I wouldn't be standing here were I not upheld. After the death of his wife, C.S. Lewis wrote, "They say 'the coward dies many times'; so does the beloved. Didn't the eagle find a fresh liver to tear in Prometheus every time it dined?" When parents die, as my mother did last month, they take with them a large portion of the past. But when children die, they take away the future as well. That is what makes the valley of the shadow of death seem so incredibly dark and unending. In a prideful way it would be easier to walk the valley alone, nobly, head high, instead of — as we must — marching as the latest recruit in the world's army of the bereaved. Still there is much by way of consolation. Because there are no rankling unanswered questions, and because Alex and I simply adored each other, the wound for me is deep, but clean. I know how lucky I am! I also know this day-brightener of a son wouldn't wish to be held close by grief (nor, for that matter, would any but the meanest of our beloved departed) and that, interestingly enough, when I mourn Alex least I see him best. Another consolation, of course, will be the learning — which better be good, given the price. But it's a fact: few of us are naturally profound. We have to be forced down. So while trite, it's true: I walked a mile with Pleasure, She chattered all the way; But left me none the wiser For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow And ne'er a word said she; But the things I learned from her But oh, the things I learned from her When sorrow walked with me. --Robert Browning Hamilton Or, in Emily Dickinson's verse: By a departing light We see acuter quite Than by a wick that stays. There's something in the flight That clarifies the sight And decks the rays. And of course I know, even when pain is deep, that God is good. "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Yes, but at least, "My God, my God"; and the psalm only begins that way, it doesn't end that way. As the grief that once seemed unbearable begins to turn now to bearable sorrow, the truths in the "right" biblical passages are beginning, once again, to take hold: "Cast thy burden upon the Lord and He shall strengthen thee"; "Weeping may endure for the night but joy cometh in the morning"; "Lord, by thy favor thou hast made my mountain to stand strong"; "For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling"; "In this world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world"; "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." And finally I know that when Alex beat me to the grave, the finish line was not Boston Harbor in the middle of the night. If a week ago last Monday, a lamp went out, it was because, for him at least, the Dawn had come. So I shall — so let us all — seek consolation in that love which never dies, and find peace in the dazzling grace that always is. Reprinted with kind permission of William Sloane Coffin.
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She always seems to find the right words

Most anyone who knows me knows that I have been an avid follower of "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron for many years.  Pretty much any book Julia Cameron writes, I'm on it.  I am currently reading Faith and Will - Weathering the Storms in Our Spiritual Lives.  At first, I did not like this book.  It's not in Julia's usual style...but I trusted my long relationship with her work and kept reading.  Now, I feel such synchronicity with this book and my own life.  

I don't wear my "faith" on my sleeve.  My spirituality is a big part of me but not some slogan or catch phrase that you might find on a t-shirt.  I wrestle with it.  Prayer for me is a running dialogue I have with the Great Creator.  My prayers, of late, have been of epic old testament proportions!  Fear and trembling...and all that jazz.

And then I read small words that lead to big truths in my life.  Here's why I love Julia Cameron and why I dream of spending time with her some day.

     "Perhaps when we say 'thy will be done,' we are committing ourselves to a life of adventure.  Perhaps God's will involves expansion and not constriction.  Perhaps we will be asked over and over again to commit to becoming larger and more generous.  Perhaps God views us as capable of endless growth and renewal, endless diversity and creativity.  Perhaps God expects us to fulfill our fullest potential and will actually cooperate with any plans that make of ourselves that which we dream of being.
     What if that which we dream of being is actually God's will for us?  What if we are the ones who hold back, setting an arbitrary limit on what God's power in our life will be?  What if we are the ones who decide 'this is too good to be true?'  What if we turn back God's gifts over and over and over again?
     ...Unless we are careful and alert, we automatically presume God will be adversarial to our plans, not cooperative, and so we set about  trying to accomplish our dreams under our own power, using our own limited resources.  And what happens?  Our dream often remain beyond our grasp.  For all of our trying, we are not able to wrest success from the Universe.  We grow tired and very often we grow bitter.  In our bitterness, quite often we blame God.  We act as if it is God's fault that our dreams were not fulfilled when we never asked God for help in fulfilling them.  More often we may have actively barred the door to any help from God, and yet we seldom see that.  We are like angry children who would not allow God to join our game and then are angry at the game's outcome. 
     ...God does know our dreams, spoken and unspoken, but that does not mean that we are not to speak our dreams.  In the act of articulating our dreams for ourselves and for God, we reach a necessary humility.  We make ourselves right-size when we acknowledge that there are dreams beyond our reach that we yearn for.  When we ask God to expand our lives, we acknowledge that God is an expansive power.  We become as the tiny mustard seed, holding a world of potential."

Faith and Will - Weathering the Storms in our Spiritual Lives by Julia Cameron (excerpts from pages 138-140)

I thought I knew

I thought I knew a lot.  I mean I have 3 college degrees.  Did well in school.  Had good jobs.  Nice husband.  Nice house...had it all figured out.

And still I searched for something that seemed just beyond my reach. 

I turned it all upside down.  Topsy Turvy.  Caused pain.  Wretched with guilt and pain tears came down like a ocean-fueled waterfall.  Night after night on my knees, sometimes fully face down in my own puddle of sorrow.  Knowing and yet not knowing.  Met with understanding from people I never took the time to understand.  Met with questions and found no answers would form upon my lips.  Some things are simply too deep to give voice.  The smallest gestures, smiles, pats, kindness to one so undeserving meant the difference at times between rest and restlessness.  No one could hurt me worse than I could hurt myself.

I thought I knew...myself, others, friends, family, faith, life, art, theatre...but I didn't.  Like a newborn I took it all in.  And sometimes I wailed with lungs full of primal cries and sometimes glistened with the wonder and beauty of all that I could now see for the first time...again.

I can now take a moment and catch a glimpse in the eyes of some people and see that there is so much more than what is on the surface.  It is worth the time to stop and connect.  Even if it is just with the look of "I know.  I know.  It's okay.  It will be okay.  You will be okay."  There are people who need my understanding and love and kindness.  I know that now.  Having been to the wailing wall, you recognize those who are headed there.  It's important to take their hand and kneel with them at the wall...to go back as a guide and visitor.  They don't need my advice.  They don't need my opinion.  They don't need my religion or my god or demi-gods.  They just need my hand, my breath... my time.

And yet the ironic thing...the most amazing grace and forgiveness was defined for me by the one who by all accounts had every right to resist it.  And that, I did not know would happen.  And for that, I am forever changed.

And so, I dwell in a new place of belonging and yet it has the feel of some place I've known all along.  And I thought I knew people, but I don't.  I thought I knew God, but I didn't.  I thought I'd seen so much but really nothing at all.

And yet...not knowing is...for now...the path I must take.  Because faith is traveling on the road to a destiny not revealed.  I thought I knew where I was going, but now I do not know where I am headed.  And yet, I know that when and if I arrive, it will be a dwelling filled with the artwork of my traveled heart.

My first post

I'm amazed that as much as I love to write...I never do it.  As much as I love my job in the theatre, it doesn't give me time to write.  So...I created this blog.  Who knows what I will write, but at least I will write.

This should be fun.

Stay tuned.