Ode to Cornelius

I might  have been a famous dancer in an earlier life.  Might have been.
I love dance.
I envy dancers.  Dancer's bodies.  Dancer's lives.
I love it.  All of it.  All kinds of styles.
I still love my leg warmers I wore in the 80's.  They made me feel like a dancer.
I might still wear them around the house...maybe, maybe not.
Gotta dance.
Someone loan me their dancer's body, please.
My dream is writing checks my body can't cash.  
But I still dream.
In my head, I can move like a Fosse girl - the younger versions of Reinkin, MacClaine, Chita, Rita...Even Tommy "Too Tall Texan" Tune.
I love the dance.
I just love the. dance.
In my mind - I leap.  I fly.  
Don't judge me.

UNLUCKY!!

I have always been unlucky.  I never win anything when I buy the scratch-offs  in Texas or Louisiana.  I never win at Bingo.  My name is never pulled out of a hat.  I never win the jackpot or the prize.  So, I don't put much stock in luck...since I'm unlucky anyway.  I do have a superstition or two but that is different than luck.  It's 2013, and for many 13 is an unlucky number.  Did you know that many big hotels don't have a 13th floor?  Corporate superstitions, now that's heavy.  I've never really been afraid of good ol' scary number 13.  In fact this year, God willin' and the creek don't rise, I am going to embrace ol' 13.

If I had to pick a lucky number, it would be 12.  Roger Staubach wore No. 12 for the Cowboys.  He was my hero.  When I played on my high school Volleyball team, I wore No. 21, which is 12 switched.  I'd have worn 12 but an upper classman had already picked it and I wasn't about to ask her to change.  See I wasn't even lucky enough to wear my lucky number.  Anywho...

12 wasn't such a lucky year for me.  Declining health over the last few years reached a new low and I found myself scrapping the bottom of the barrel.  Pretty empty.  Most people who know me realize that goes against my basic principles of joy, happiness, faith and self worth.  As much as I hoped and willed for better times, things just seemed to get worse.  My depression flared alongside the multiple staph infections I had and by the time the wintery season arrived I was in full blown discontent. 

It's hard to know what to say to someone with depression, I know.  You want them to just snap out of it.  Just make the choice to be happy.  Will it away.  If only...sometimes the harder you try to feel better, the more guilty you feel when you can't "make it go away" and so you think you are a weak person and that you are disappointing everyone and the spiral downward gets even worse.  What's been hardest for me, is that as the leader of my organization I set the tone for the entire company.  If I am down, then it drags everyone and everything down...failure...more depression.  It'll beat you up, I mean beat you up.  Many people are supportive and understanding but come on why should they be?  You aren't their problem!  "Get the job done! Get over it! Not our problem! Fix it!"  Nope companies aren't built with souls.  And they shouldn't be I guess.  Kick 'em to the curb, get someone younger and healthier.  Your experience, drive, wisdom, education and expertise don't matter.  You don't matter.  -- this is the constant chatter I hear in my head.  And everyone is out of patience and compassion because it has all drug on so long and they have their own issues to worry about - who could blame them?  They've tried their best.  I can't find my butt with two hand right now, how can I find my best??
Stop Whining!  So many people have it worse.  Some people died this year.  You are still here.  Still here.  Still...here...dammit.  Still.  Here.  

13 - I place myself at your feet.  I bring a lot of baggage.  Weight, diabetes, depression, SAD, exhaustion, staph (seriously bad news bears staph), high blood pressure, crazy hormones, hot flashes, anger, frustration, a totally out of shape body...but I'm here.  This is the year I turn 50.  Maybe just maybe, I'll get lucky and the 50's will turn out to be the best decade yet.  I'm gonna give it my best shot, cause I don't believe in luck, says the unlucky girl.  I'm still here and that makes me lucky enough...and determined.  I'm here!  I'm here!  I'm here!!! (cue Elaine Stritch)

Oh and as a post script...15 is also a good number.  We don't need no stickin' luck.  We will leave that for the Irish to believe.  Roll Tide Y'all.

Crimson, White and Blues

My struggles with depression have not been a secret.
It is a constant battle, sitting on my shoulder, an ever morphing "something" whispering in my ear... but I'll tell you one of the things that can shew that little creature off my shoulder is Alabama Football.
Just saying "Roll Tide" out loud, even if I'm the only one that hears it, lightens my step and brings a smile to a sometimes tear-stained face.

We are weeks away from what many would call THE most wonderful time of the year.  It is a time of renewal; of convergence of both types of blood relatives, red and crimson;  a like-minded physical and spiritual gathering - a gridiron revival meetin', if you will.

Being a "bury me with my boots on" Texan runs neck and neck with my "Roll Tide" passion.  I love both so very much but I dare say that as much as I love my motherland that Crimson and White might overshadow the beloved Texas Star on my funereal wreaths, and not just because I live here now and lived there way back when...but I must admit I'm thankful that crimson and white isn't far from, especially by those with faded vision like me, the ol' red, white and blue of the greater good and the once separate country in which I was lucky enough to be born and raised.

Don't get me wrong, I love that my beloved homeland paints their red-white-blue-single-star-studded-state flag on everything that sits still long enough to be painted.  I do love that, I really do, but just a glimpse of that Alabama "A" or a whispered "Roll Tide" under a stranger's nod at a foreign airport like La Guardia sends chills up my spine.  It is a pride that goes beyond a sport or shall I  say sports, particularly with 4 national championships under our belt this very year of our Lord 2012.

No, it is more than that.  It is a feeling so hard to describe, a need to be a part of something bigger.  I remember a similar but not so strong a feeling after I moved to Tuscaloosa when I would see a Texas license plate on the vehicle, particularly a pickup,  in front of me.  I often wondered if I knew the person, suddenly feeling a kinship as if I'd just found a long lost relative.  It is the feeling of connectedness, whether experienced first hand as a student and later an alumni; or simply as one who has chosen the allegiance as a graduate of the school of you better believe it; or by those who grew up in a household that worshiped at the church of "Bear and his Saints."
I don't think it is any coincidence that The Bear and Stallings both have Texas as part of their through-line, kinda even makes me even more of gritty royalty, don't you think?

So, the blues that are so hard to shake off are slowly being painted over by Crimson and will soon be engulfed in the saturated hues of stadium white lights.

Sometimes I join the throngs that ritually gather each fall - first in small groups with the most kindred spirits like those of us that meet at Rowand-Johnson; who merge with the larger membership onto the sacred Quad;  and finally ride the wave to join the other one-hundred plus thousand who worship in the house of Bryant-Denny with Saban as our pastor.  While amongst those present at the revival, during commercial time-outs we often reach out with our cellular arms to those less fortunate who can't be with us in body but can truly be felt in spirit, texting "Roll Tide" and "Rammer-Jammer."  We relay the gospel according to Eli and recount testimonies of the many who were washed by the Crimson blood.

These days most sacred Saturdays I chose to home-church even though I am mere miles from the open-air temple .  I must admit I actually prefer my gospel in air-conditioned HD.  But nothing, I mean nothing, even gourmet snacks on a five-star gold-rimmed platter can beat a stadium dog while watching the Million-Dollar Band spell out B-A-M-A.  And of course the chill that comes when you hear the familiar music and see on the big screens the legends of the Fall that lead up to those big beefy Bama boys running out of that tunnel with "I ain't never been nothin' but a winner" ringing in their ears.  Why then do I not always join the masses you ask?  There are many reasons really - heat, bad back, exhaustion, parking, but none of those have ever truly stopped me if I feel the call.  No, mostly because I like the comfort of my trademark PJ's and the relatively new "rewind" capability of live cable TV.  I like to see the game up close and personal, but mostly it allows me to scream my favorite choice words into the void where only a handful are highly offended.  Sorry Mother, I can't help it.  I just hate (fill in team of the week here).

So, I feel less blue than I did yesterday and even the threat of a hurricane or tropical storm can't dampen my spirits because it is almost time for Alabama Football (insert elephant trumpet here)!

As a post script, it does make me a little sad that I can't afford to see the Tide play in Cowboy Stadium.  I mean that IS kind of the ultimate experience for this Texas RoTider, but the Cowboys have played so badly that it is almost embarrassing to claim it as my home turf...almost. I must admit that giant Jerry Jones big screen would actually be the best of both worlds, but only if I could wear my trademark houndstooth pajamas under the stars at night that are so big and bright. 

Roll Tide Y'all.  Roll Tide!

Spring Break What?

Spring Break.
I remember when I use to have spring break.
I'm declaring right now that next year, I am going to take a whole week off at Spring Break.
I'm going to do something fun.
I'm going to visit some beach, somewhere.
I'm going to do nothing...and like it.
I'm going to vacate my brain and fill it with beautiful sunset images.
Break it Spring.
I'm gonna getcha...and it may be sooner than next year.

FEAR OF THE KNOT

It has been brought to my attention by a couple of people who really love and care for me, that I fear that this job will kill me. I've laughed about it and said it many times...but truthfully there has been a knot in my middle for a long time.

I read somewhere that it takes a head coach about five years to really build a winning coaching staff. My job is a lot like a head coach...and I have been in the job a little over 5 years.

I have been thankful for every staff member and volunteer I've worked with because they all brought something unique to the table. Some fit the team well, some suited, well maybe for another team. Some, I didn't have a choice one way or another. But I try sincerely to look at people's strengths more than their weaknesses. I've taken the "Strength Finder" test done by the Gallop Poll people and my number one strength is Maximizer. I am the person that is good at seeing clearly other people's strengths and helping them to maximize their potential. I polish the pearl. Good is not as good as great. I want everyone to find the best in themselves and follow their true calling.

Empathy is another of my strengths. I don't just understand what others are feeling, most times I begin to feel it too - you know like Deanna Troy on Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Sometimes I don't want that strength! Sometimes I DON'T WANT TO FEEL WHAT THE OTHER PERSON IS FEELING. You can't control the start of it, but you can control what you do with those feelings. It's harder when you are run down. You don't feel much in control and so you have a million feelings coming at you all the time and you try to put up a shield to not let them permeate every thought and mix with your own feelings. It becomes a battlefield of the mind and vital organs!

There are days that sorrow, sadness, grief, regret and pain are so present that I almost see it in the air - thin, fragile cracked, breakable. I move slowly trying not to stir it up or shatter.

There are days that joy and happiness rise up to meet me and I feel like I'm the most beautiful clear sandy beach with gentle waves that heal each time they warmly wash over me. I feel so alive and in the moment.

Both kinds of days happen often and sometimes the memories linger and sometimes I barely notice, feeling as if I'm standing and watching someone else.

There is something that I don't talk about much...

I feel Charlie Dennis' presence a lot at work. This last cast had several people in it that mentioned the sunsets that we see outside our scene shop door. Charlie and I spent many moments observing and appreciating God's lighting design. It was our little break time, between real work and "play" work...when it was mostly quiet. I enjoyed his company. I loved talking about plays and characters and actors and writers, directors, designers...we'd make fun of them ...and ourselves mostly. John Hisey and I chatted like that recently.  It's amazing what a lighting designer sees in a sunset that makes you notice even more beauty.  

Charlie knew the value of the arts, of hard work, of education, of teamwork, of dedication, of tiny moments not to be missed.

And yet, I think he worked too hard, too many hours, gave to much to all of us, carried a great deal of stress so others wouldn't have to carry it, ignored his own health and well-being, ignored the warning signs and didn't ask for help until it was too late. 

I think dying probably really pissed Charlie off.  

I can only imagine that besides thoughts of his family were  thoughts like-- "well dammit, this is inconvenient!  I don't have time for death, we got too much shit to do!"  He still had so much living and joy ahead.   I loved that ol' bear of a man!

Yes, I fear the knot in my chest and stomach. 

Irrational fear of death? Irrational fear of the unknown? Irrational fear of not being in complete control? Irrational fear of being like Charlie and taken out of the game too soon?  

Irrational - yes.  Fear doesn't care. 

This knot of fear is standing in the way of me really seeing the joy.  

I play for a living.  

I'm surrounded by wonderfully creative people who are so talented and so smart.

I get to see people fulfill their dreams.

I get to explore my thoughts and beliefs about the human condition with others who are curious about truth and life.

I get to bring to life really great stories with really great storytellers.

I get to see brilliant sunsets -- out my back door!  

I have known and still know GREAT LOVE in my life.  

I have a loving family, created by blood and by choice.  

I have laughed more than I've cried.

Fear not the Knot!!

 Gotta remember...

Breath unties the knot.  

Rest unties the knot.  

Quiet unties the knot.  

Smiles untie the knot. 

Hugs untie the knot.  

Kind words to and from others untie the knot.  

Laughter unties the knot.  

Exercise unties the knot.  

SLEEP unties the knot.  

Meditation and prayer unties the knot.  

Lullabies untie the knot.  

Pets SOMETIMES untie the knot!  

Gratitude unties the knot.  

Letting go of control unties the knot.   

Release of grief unties the knot.

Children playing unties the knot.

Giving up trying to understand "why" about everything unties the knot.

Letting go of wanting to be right unties the knot.

Choosing NOT to say what I'm really thinking sometimes, unties the knot.

Forgiveness of myself and others unties the knot.

Love unties the knot.

A MASSAGE would really untie the knot!!

Charlie, don't go away but hang beside me and gently remind me truly that TO BE, the KNOT MUST NOT BE.

:)

INSIDE OF ME IS AN OLD BLACK PREACHER

Watching Whitney Houston's funeral, I realize there's an old black preacher in me trying to get out.

I like that good ol' gospel music.
I like how folks just let go and shout and cry or whatever.
I like the laughter even through tears.
I like the simplicity of it.
I like the hope presented.
I like the picture that is painted of heaven.
I like the ebb and flow and use of language and the full vocal range. 
I like the gentleness that the preacher can pull out when needed...when some are about to break.
I like the absolute confidence of a Higher Power in charge and in love with us all.

I feel like I can go to heaven now cause the angel that I've always thought needed to be in MY choir is now there.
I try to imagine how Charlie Dennis explained Whitney Houston to "The Bear" and finally giving up and just telling her to sing The National Anthem.for him.
I bet my MawMaw grabbed her up hugged her and made her some biscuits and gravy so she'd feel comforted...cause that's what she really wanted.

I'd like to be an old black preacher. 
Stir it up, bring it home, and sit it down.
Strange fruit, isn't it?

And what if we did?

What if we decided to really follow our heart? 
What if we really did act on what we love? 
What if we really did want to make a difference? 
What if we did take a risk? 
What if we started right now instead of waiting? 
What if we didn't care who got the credit as long as the job was satisfying and well done? 
What if we loved more than we hated? 
What if we woke up and made the choice to be happy rather than angry? 
What if we did let things people say roll off our back? 
What if we chose to be kind rather than bitter? 
What if we went out of our way to make people's day better? 
What if we looked for things to be thankful for? 
What if we smiled rather than frowned? 
What if we looked people in the eye and said hello as we passed instead of judging them by what they were wearing? 
What if we took the time to sit still and breath?
What if we chose to learn from our mistakes instead of continually beating ourselves up over them? 
What if we truly looked for the good in others? 
What if we forgave unconditionally anyone who had wronged us? 
What if we gave to others with no thought of ever being repaid? 
What if we laughed more? 
What if we played more? 
What if we decided to do one thing a day that would make a difference for someone else? 
What if we read more? 
What if we talked less? 
What if we listened more? 
What if we didn't care about sharing our opinions but were just happy to have them? 
What if we wanted to build up instead of tear down?
What if we didn't always have to be right?
What if we went barefoot for just thirty minutes?
What if we DID change our mind? 
What if?