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.
2/20/2013
1/04/2013
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.
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.
8/26/2012
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!
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!
3/13/2012
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.
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.
2/29/2012
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.
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.
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.
:)
2/18/2012
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?
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?
10/06/2011
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?
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?
8/11/2011
Am I actually taking time to blog???
Since the tornado...I haven't really been able to articulate my thoughts/feelings. Odd. I'd think it would come streaming out of me. Course I have been a little busy. Never thought about that.
Maybe I articulated things in different ways...not directly but maybe by my directing.
My friends, actors, volunteers have no idea how much I love and appreciate them and how much joy they bring to my life and so many others. I think that's why I've been able to keep the ol' chin up.
I didn't lose anything or anybody...but I lost my "bearings." Storms scare me now. Panic sets in.
Want to do more to help. Never enough time.
Proud of what TT is doing and where it is going. My hope and prayer - to keep it running with joy and less drama (off stage). And to take a bit of time for me now. To regain my health and strength. I'm surrounded by people very good at what they do. That will allow me to take some much needed time, here and there. Can't even tell you how thankful I am for that!!!! And may all of us, build in collective and individual renewal time...
Well, took an hour for myself this morning. Better get on to work now.
And special prayers go out to Kate Monster - to new beginnings.
Good thoughts to Chas and his "get healthy" commitment. I admire him so.
And to PBC - You crazy! One big ol' Monologue -mmm, mmm, mmm. I'll pray that your brain will fire on every cylinder!
JP - you float into my life and remind me of how much I do love theatre and plays and actors and all of it...and you ARE going to be what you want to be. Keep up the hard work and diligence. I'm so proud of you.
And to my Mom and Daddy - may God hold you in the palm of his hand today - comfort and heal you. I love you and treasure you so.
Today, my goal - just breath.
Maybe I articulated things in different ways...not directly but maybe by my directing.
My friends, actors, volunteers have no idea how much I love and appreciate them and how much joy they bring to my life and so many others. I think that's why I've been able to keep the ol' chin up.
I didn't lose anything or anybody...but I lost my "bearings." Storms scare me now. Panic sets in.
Want to do more to help. Never enough time.
Proud of what TT is doing and where it is going. My hope and prayer - to keep it running with joy and less drama (off stage). And to take a bit of time for me now. To regain my health and strength. I'm surrounded by people very good at what they do. That will allow me to take some much needed time, here and there. Can't even tell you how thankful I am for that!!!! And may all of us, build in collective and individual renewal time...
Well, took an hour for myself this morning. Better get on to work now.
And special prayers go out to Kate Monster - to new beginnings.
Good thoughts to Chas and his "get healthy" commitment. I admire him so.
And to PBC - You crazy! One big ol' Monologue -mmm, mmm, mmm. I'll pray that your brain will fire on every cylinder!
JP - you float into my life and remind me of how much I do love theatre and plays and actors and all of it...and you ARE going to be what you want to be. Keep up the hard work and diligence. I'm so proud of you.
And to my Mom and Daddy - may God hold you in the palm of his hand today - comfort and heal you. I love you and treasure you so.
Today, my goal - just breath.
4/07/2011
Happiness
Finding the sunshine again in my life.
Recognizing that my mood is directly related to how much rest I get.
Trying to actually make my self a priority. Setting parameters and saying no.
Loving others starts with loving myself.
Simple lessons that I've known but not always put in practice.
I'm so thankful for the struggles...they've made me recognize the good things all around.
The perfection in the imperfections.
The simplicity of complexity.
Strength that comes in the broken places.
I have no control over what others say or do...only how I chose to respond and how I let it affect me.
And, I chose love.
There is absolutely no absolutes.
Each one of us screws it up royally...and yet, we have the capacity to make a different choice the next time.
Isn't that amazing.
I stand in awe of the rugged beauty all around, and happiness softly remains..
Recognizing that my mood is directly related to how much rest I get.
Trying to actually make my self a priority. Setting parameters and saying no.
Loving others starts with loving myself.
Simple lessons that I've known but not always put in practice.
I'm so thankful for the struggles...they've made me recognize the good things all around.
The perfection in the imperfections.
The simplicity of complexity.
Strength that comes in the broken places.
I have no control over what others say or do...only how I chose to respond and how I let it affect me.
And, I chose love.
There is absolutely no absolutes.
Each one of us screws it up royally...and yet, we have the capacity to make a different choice the next time.
Isn't that amazing.
I stand in awe of the rugged beauty all around, and happiness softly remains..
3/27/2011
Forced Reflection
I just hurry around doing my busy life and get caught up in everything I have to do.
I'd like to think that I stop and smell the roses, notice the beauty around me, take in the little things. But I admit, a lot of times I let those "moments" pass right by me. I use to pay more attention to them.
And then things happen that kind of bring me back to center.
My friend Mary Fran loses her precious Mother. I sit in a crowd of people I don't know and listen to how amazing this woman was...and I weep. Not because I knew her but because I watch how her daughter embodies her strength and kindness and life force energy. And I realize how precious little time I get to spend with this woman and this family I hold so dear. And think...why ARE we so busy? And... I long for a week at the beach again. Watching the kids play, the sunset, the laughter.
And then Ray Yeatman.
There will never be a chance to really thank him for all those things he did for Theatre Tuscaloosa. For all the times he worked so hard to make tailgaiting so much fun. For the way he took care of ALL the ladies in his life. He was quiet but paid attention to everything. He did those thankless tasks to make our lives easier. He was funny. He was cute as a button. He was smart. He was wise. And he was an anchor of strength for Teresa, Jill, Joyce, Tracy, Nancy and all the rest of us. And his "farewell" was so beautiful and moving that I felt an amazing connection with everyone there...he did that.
And then Doug Perry.
Spent so many hours with Doug. Truly one of the funniest, most clever people on this Earth. Always can count on Doug to brighten my day. And it's those little things he does...shared August birthdays. The great cards he'd slide under the door or send in the mail. The cocktails, perfectly planned and mixed on his porch.
He is the one that is quick to remind me that, yes the arts are great, but love, life and friendship are even greater. I sat helpless at his bedside this weekend. Realizing that something greater than all of us binds us together. And that I am truly grateful for this life. All of it. The ups. The downs. The pain. The joy. The sorrow. The love.
There is no time like the present to let change creep in. Deeper breaths. A smile even when I am alone. Acceptance of change. Being present. Letting things go. Loving others without expectation of love returned. Remembering to say "Please" and "Thank you." Taking time to laugh more. Catching more sunsets. Accepting the kindness others show. Singing. Dancing like I want to, when I want. Letting go of guilt. Choosing happiness and being open to wonder.
Thank you Mrs. Abell and Ray Yeatman for a life well lived.
Come back to us Doug. We miss you.
I'd like to think that I stop and smell the roses, notice the beauty around me, take in the little things. But I admit, a lot of times I let those "moments" pass right by me. I use to pay more attention to them.
And then things happen that kind of bring me back to center.
My friend Mary Fran loses her precious Mother. I sit in a crowd of people I don't know and listen to how amazing this woman was...and I weep. Not because I knew her but because I watch how her daughter embodies her strength and kindness and life force energy. And I realize how precious little time I get to spend with this woman and this family I hold so dear. And think...why ARE we so busy? And... I long for a week at the beach again. Watching the kids play, the sunset, the laughter.
And then Ray Yeatman.
There will never be a chance to really thank him for all those things he did for Theatre Tuscaloosa. For all the times he worked so hard to make tailgaiting so much fun. For the way he took care of ALL the ladies in his life. He was quiet but paid attention to everything. He did those thankless tasks to make our lives easier. He was funny. He was cute as a button. He was smart. He was wise. And he was an anchor of strength for Teresa, Jill, Joyce, Tracy, Nancy and all the rest of us. And his "farewell" was so beautiful and moving that I felt an amazing connection with everyone there...he did that.
And then Doug Perry.
Spent so many hours with Doug. Truly one of the funniest, most clever people on this Earth. Always can count on Doug to brighten my day. And it's those little things he does...shared August birthdays. The great cards he'd slide under the door or send in the mail. The cocktails, perfectly planned and mixed on his porch.
He is the one that is quick to remind me that, yes the arts are great, but love, life and friendship are even greater. I sat helpless at his bedside this weekend. Realizing that something greater than all of us binds us together. And that I am truly grateful for this life. All of it. The ups. The downs. The pain. The joy. The sorrow. The love.
There is no time like the present to let change creep in. Deeper breaths. A smile even when I am alone. Acceptance of change. Being present. Letting things go. Loving others without expectation of love returned. Remembering to say "Please" and "Thank you." Taking time to laugh more. Catching more sunsets. Accepting the kindness others show. Singing. Dancing like I want to, when I want. Letting go of guilt. Choosing happiness and being open to wonder.
Thank you Mrs. Abell and Ray Yeatman for a life well lived.
Come back to us Doug. We miss you.
1/23/2011
Peace and Pieces
Peace and Pieces
We’ve got our men suited up
Guns a blazed
Finger on the button
And we think on the pulse.
But what happened to kindness?
What happened to understanding?
Why must God be placed on his judgment throne
When He simply wants to dine with us?
We wrap ourselves in the flag
We gaze at its fifty stars.
And yet the infinite ones above us
Burn in all our eyes.
Why do we not wrap our arms
Around those who are angry?
Why do we not gaze up at the wonder
even with those we call friends?
We’re so busy making places,
Faces, traces
of remnants that will be lost in a short while.
How can we reach across the seas
When we can’t reach up,
Or out,
Or around our own collapsed shoulders?
We fight in the name of peace
But not for ourselves within,
And that landscape is familiar terrain.
Yet for years unchanged, unmoved.
Dry as the desert on which those boots pound.
Yes, I can move mountains
But won’t move an inch
In the name of being right.
The hope turns to hopelessness.
Where does it end?
When did it start?
In the beginning…
Comfort myself, then the one next to me,
Then the one at arm’s reach,
Not as big a distance as it once seemed
And soon maybe the stars and stripes
Will have meaning again.
At least for me.
Tina Turley – January, 2011
12/11/2010
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.
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.
10/24/2010
Come to my Garden
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.
10/15/2010
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.
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.
10/11/2010
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.
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.
10/10/2010
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."
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."
10/08/2010
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.)
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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10/07/2010
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 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)
10/04/2010
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.
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.
10/02/2010
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.
This should be fun.
Stay tuned.
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