Everyday Miracles

As the ubiquitous "they" say, AH! THE HUMANITY!

Of course, I mean my own humanity. It's been an interesting few weeks- most recently I have been transforming as a person in a quiet way. After last year's bout with walking pneumonia and the resulting exhaustion, I have consciously changed my life to eat cleaner and purer, breathe slower, and not take on so much. It's not that I love stress. I love my artistic passions! And therefore I love to do a lot and get carried away- but- more than that....

Last night in my acting class, my teacher pointed out something about the "way I learn" that, in a circle of thought, I realized was holding me back from not only "career success" but further enjoying my personal life. She pointed out that I don't celebrate my wins, that I don't study regularly, and that I therefore don't have consistency.

I don't. Ever since I was a kid, I just got stuff in school really fast and ended up skipping out on stuff that at first was too easy for me, but later, it became a problem. If I wasn't instantly the best at something it wasn't worth my time. Therefore I ended up rebelling against anything that was either a) too easy or b) I couldn't do right off the bat. And THEREFORE I missed out on a lot of normal life stuff. Like normal high school dating. Never did it. Normal studying and a normal college experience? Oh, no, mine was fraught with brilliant papers and rehabs.

Look. It's hard to talk about yourself objectively, but I am so excited about last night's revelation. I was doing everything in my power just to receive the critique. It was in response to a scene gone WAY OFF THE RAILS and an evaluation of the fact that I'm either HIT or MISS in class. I don't have grey zone. I didn't beat myself up, as I consciously do not do that. But I noticed the next rung on the ladder of emotional and psychological practices that do nothing for me:

Ye Olde Pity Party.

Ah, that old game.

But instead of it being the usual rigamarole, (I'm misunderstood, I never got to fulfill my dreams and go to the college I wanted, blah blah blah) it was: I have worked against myself all those years, not allowing myself to go through the pain of learning day by day, of doing normal things. In a way my life has been magical because of my strange stubborn attitude that everything must be magical and beyond amazing in my life... a life of literary proportions... but... now I see that so much of that was running and hiding and rebelling from a fear of being.... usual... normal... boring.

Oh, how wrong I was, though! First of all, I'm nor sure anyone is actually any of those things.

Second of all, by whose standards?

And thirdly, in my attempt to have an amazing life, I seemed to have forgotten that my life is based on my humanity.

Ah. Oh.

So, in my effort to "change my script," which is what I am doing every time I catch myself being negative, being a disbeliever and misanthrope, being upset by the world... I rewrote my life story thusly:

I am so excited to get to practice love in every moment, whether I am on stage singing or washing the floors or at my day job or having an ice cream. Each moment is precious, I see that now, and I am willing to be of service to Divine Love in whatever form NATURE so brings it. My intention is to use the best of my gifts as an artist to be of service to the Love, and I will simply flow with my passion an allow the river to carry me where I must go. I will ask humbly to remove any blinders that get in my way and I am grateful for the opportunity to have fun doing all of this.

That was last night.

This morning, as usual, my dog Henry and I went for our long walk through the secret passageways of the Valley, a long pathway full of sage and lavender and flowers and sunlight and trees and shadows, butterflies and birds and the occasional passerby. 

As I walked, I realized that my pity party had been hiding another poison, and that was, I was tallying up all these resentments and angers in my head... all the ways people had acted against me... I was building an entire case- not even consciously! Just ruminating on all of it. I stopped short as the smell of Jasmine from last night's bloom wafted mysteriously in the air. And then I asked if please, all of my anger and resentment would please just be taken from me. Please. I didn't want it any more. None of it. I didn't care if I was right or wrong, I just didn't want that anymore. I wanted to be of peace and love, of service to music and acting and writing, a poet of joy and service. I didn't, and don't, want those old stories to have meaning for me. I wanted to let it all go.

I exhaled and

at that exact moment, on my iPod, of thousands and thousands of songs,

what should pop up but Stuart Sharp's Angeli Symphony...

Those of you who don't know the story, please, visit www.angeli.tv and learn of this amazing tale... a man with no musical ability whatsoever dreamed of a symphony written by the angels upon the death of one of his children, and he struggled for years and overcame many obstacles in order to have the London Philharmonic record his beautiful symphont.

Of all songs, that one!

Not just a song, but 30 minutes of divine music, of proof positive of the ability of humans to transform and triumph in love with the help of spirit and, one another....

I smiled all the way home, and as soon as I got here, I sat down to write this. I just couldn't wait to share it with anyone who wanted to read or hear.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H6Oy7EQnNAk

With Apologies to Shakespeare

This has been a constant subject of conversation lately, and while I would love to write an astute and pithy article about marriage and motherhood, and the disparity of opinions between my married friends in their 50s (married 20-30 years) and my married friends in their 30s (married 5-10-15 years) in regard to what *I* should do (you will be surprised who tells me not to do it!) (And my parents NEVER enter in an opinion. They respect my freedom to make mistakes and winning choices both on my own)... the case is, at the moment, I can only present this light hearted monologue which I discovered in a little known {haha} play by some obscure Elizabethan scribe...

With apologies to Will, here it is...



SCENE 1. A Room at The DaySpa

Enter Single Gal in long term relationship.



SINGLE GAL 
-->

To Mother, or not to Mother: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The diapers and showers of outrageous fertility,
Or to take arms against a sea of hormones,
And by opposing prevent them? To get pregnant leads to sleep
No more; and in losing sleep, say we also end
The mani pedis, dates, and the thousand nights out with friends
That woman’s flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd-  To avoid impregnation, to sleep-
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub.
For in that sleep of solitude what dreams may come
When we have shuffled through this fertile window,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of still impregnable life…
For who would bear the whimpers and screams of babes,
The spouse's wrong, the in laws’ contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the doctor's delay,
The insolence of school and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When she herself might her quietus make
With a good massage? who would weight gain bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary 40^th week,
But that the dread of something worse than swollen feet,
The undiscover'd nursery from whose bourn
No singleton returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those bad dates we have
Than fly to solid partners and crying babes that we know not of?
Thus family, biology, hormones and men do make mothers of so many;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of morning sickness

And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the little black dress, size 4.