*I haven't written a poem in a long while as I haven't been sleeping well. Finally, a good night's rest, and I awaken with a few lines in dancing around that cavernous head of mine. I present it here. :)
Beautiful life, this, to be a poet,
or a plumber, or a tree.
Marvelous thing, this, breath.
Who said you wanting to be here
was of any matter to your own delicate glory?
Hush all your whimperings
expressed as rage and shouting.
This crescent moon.
This blade of grass.
This song in the distance.
This is your life.
xx
Erin
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
A Return to Vertigo
Roll your eyes! Or not. But I am fairly certain that all the vertigo I have been
experiencing lately is related to my third life crisis. See, I can’t quite say
it’s a mid life crisis, because I am not quite that old, but here I am having some such crisis... maybe... anyway...
I went to the Medical Doctor today. (‘Gasp,’ you emote, “The
MEDICAL doctor? Who is writing this blog and what have you done with Erin?”) I
was so worried that the series of vertigo might be, you know, cochlear tumors
or something. And I have a LOVELY Doctor that I work with, one of the most
delightful men in the mid-Wilshire area, a fashionable music lover dedicated to
helping his patients, and who does special outreach to patients suffering with
AIDS. He’s wonderful. So although I do not like taking steroids or antibiotics,
and I don’t like spending hours (or money) away from my LIFE life, I have now
had OVERWHELMING acute Vertigo twice and little mini vertigo sessions about
half a dozen times in the last few weeks. The world is spinning just a little
as I type this, but I’m handling it.
Dr. Lim checked me out, and explained that in his opinion,
it stems from my allergy to dust and dairy creating extreme congestion,
blocking my Eustachian tubes and creating pressure in my inner ears, leading to
vertigo. Allergies? All this pain for allergies?
Oh, I believe it. I am hoping the anti allergy medication,
Chinese herbs for clear lungs and clear breathing, meditation for clear
passageway, and general avoidance of dairy, gluten and sugar (hahahahaha, that
I will start tomorrow) will help me overcome vertigo.
So, if you’ve read me for a while, you may be surprised that
I am having such a complaint heavy blog, and you may be wondering why the
connection between allergies and life crises? But see, if my life as an
artist and as a mystic is connected with my authentic self, then I want to not
always be just a Pollyanna but be honest about when stuff ISN’T going well,
too…
My vertigo is a combination of vertigo, dizziness, tinnitus,
and nausea. Louise Hay says that these things are about an inability- or
refusal- to hear and listen. A refusal to see. And while at first, when I read
these things, I thought, ‘ah hell no! I am constantly working on myself!’ I
decided that a better use of this malady is as an opportunity. IS there
something I am refusing to see? Are there things I cannot or will not hear?
Hence the life crisis. I have been transitioning my “day
job” out of massage, a profession that has paid my rent most of my adult life,
and into more life coaching and psychic work. It’s scary, leaving something I
never really liked but was good at. I am now throwing myself more than ever
before into music, into acting, into writing, into coaching. And I’m not 21,
and even though I act like age doesn’t matter, I’m still scared. And yet, this
is my life. I am here to LIVE it, full out, passionately. I’m not one for being
safe. I want to explore every single avenue, and of course, that can sometimes
be my detriment. I take on too much and disperse my creative energy instead of
focusing…
Focus… ah! Vertigo… cannot focus…
Pilots sometimes experience vertigo while flying. They
sometimes develop a feeling where they cannot tell if they are flying up or
down. It often happens if the pilot takes his or her eyes off the instruments
and starts piloting by feeling.
Hold up. I’m all one for feeling, aren’t I?
Not exactly.
See, while I am definitely one for FEELING the feelings, I
also know they, like thoughts, shall pass. And so those many years ago in India
I handed my life over to the DIVINE and said I would know what to do because it
was in FRONT of me.
Well, in recent months, I have sort of- not STOPPED doing
what was in front of me, per se- but I have started adding a lot of activities
coming from my ideas of what I "think I want" front of me. I have been focusing on
mistakes I have made and how to never make them again- important information,
to be sure, but that is NOT what is in front of me!
And
by the way, YES. I follow my dreams. I follow my heart in that I am in
touch with it as a center of love from whence all artistic and healing
and FUN outpourings emerge.
But here is what has been happening. I'll just be honest.
HEART: "Sing!"
OBSERVER OF SELF IN MEDITATION: "Ma...."
GOD/ MUSE: "Here's a song!"
MUSICIAN SELF: "Write that $%^& down before it disappears!"
SINGER SELF: "Can't wait to sing this beautiful song!"
CULTURAL MIND INFECTED WITH MEMES: "You're getting a little old to record a pop tune. Who do you think you are, Taylor Swift?"
INNER OLD SCHOOL POWERFUL FEMALE ICON: "Maybe more like Carole Lombard meets Annie Lennox, but okay."
INNER DIVA: "I think I am ERIN, biatches."
OVERWHELMED NERVOUS SYSTEM: "Oh my God. Vertigo."
..... Ieeeeeeeeeee!
In the book of Psalms, God says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
When I experience vertigo, there is nothing to do but sit,
and be still and breathe. And through that breathe comes the relief, sometimes
awful, that I am supported by the divine. And then in those moments of quiet
listening, I hear the small, still voice of inspiration. And then I as myself:
What is in front of me?
See,
the cycle could continue. But I think maybe this time I will cut right
to the beauty of the song without all this need to define and justify
myself. I am a songwriter and an author and a performer. I channel love
in an artistic equation of storytelling in various mediums. That love
heals, or inspires, or or creates laughter.
And
life crisis stuff- well- when one is an artist living and working in a
culture that values art as a commercial commodity, but fewer artists are
able to "make a living," it is easy to get caught up in that swell of
thinking rather than "take arms against a sea of troubles and by
opposing end them." Only in this case, the arms would be my artistic
endeavors and the sea of troubles would be the negative thinking of the
culture surrounding art, value, age, and etc., and to oppose them and
end them would be to continue my own work because I LOVE it.
Heck, what else am I supposed to do, anyway?
As the Course In Miracles says: “God, what would you have me
do? Where would you have me go? What would you have me say and to whom?”
This is the same promise I made to the Divine Mother that
day 7 years ago in India. I would no longer try to run my own life. I would do
what the Divine wanted me to do and I would know what it was because it would
be IN FRONT of me.
And so, again and again, like the sea on the tide, I turn it
over to divine.
So what is in front of me?
Certainly not all this worry about “my life,” and whether I
made or am making the right decisions. Bah. I have experienced better, love
better, know better, practice better. My life is already full of love and for
that I am grateful…. And it is full of love because I choose that, every day,
despite the fears, despite the messages and memes of a heartsick culture. It’s
a practice and a joy.
Well, we’re about to find out. And with gusto.
And on that, I shall fix my eyes. Like pilots fixing their
eyes on the instruments so that they may fly the plane to its destination, I
won’t be fixed on the destination, but I won’t be fixed on distractions,
either. I shall be fixed upon the joy of the task in front of me. There is no
destination. I am here. There ARE distractions, but they are NOT the bringers
of the joy that is here. And so, with love, I just stop thinking about the
mistakes I made in my life and get back to the beautiful work in front of me.
The work of art, the work of healing, the work of loving, the work of joy.
Love,
Erin
Friday, October 24, 2014
Vertigo
VERTIGO
Have you ever had vertigo?
The first time I ever experienced vertigo, I was in Varanasi
with a teacher, Anand, just after visiting the burning ghats, where the Indian
burn the bodies of their dead. I had been sick the entire trip, as I had been sick
in the US before I even got on the airplane. The whole story is so crazy I
don’t know how far back to start!
I had been visiting a lover who loved in San Francisco.
Collective gasp- I had a lover? LOL. Please see my one woman show. Anyway, he
was a great romancer. I had arrived at his place and he had scattered rose
petals on the stairway up to the bathtub, where bubbles were in both the pearly
white basin and in the glass of champagne chilling on ice. It was a beautiful
weekend of reading poetry, listening to music, and enjoying a fellow romantic…
until Sunday… during the day I had felt the tell-tale flush in my cheeks, but
had chosen to ignore it. That evening we sat on the sofa, a champagne cocktail
in hand, listening to Anne Sofie Von Otter and Elvis Costello’s heartbreakingly
beautiful rendition of “For No One.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AxsDkB7tjnA
He looked down at me, I looked up at him, he leaned in to kiss me, and…
“You’re burning up,” he said, and I very suddenly was dying.
I told him I had to lie down.
That night my fever was so high I sweated through the
sheets.
I woke up a few days later, my gentleman friend looking over
me with worry in his eyes.
He said, “I was just about to bring you to the hospital.”
I sat straight up.
“What day is it?” I asked, bursting from the bed sheets,
feeling perfectly fine and dandy.
“Wednesday,” he said.
“Oh my God! I have to get on a plane to India on Friday!”
“I don’t know about that,” he said doubtfully.
“What happened? How did three days go by?” I asked.
“Well,” he said, “You’ve been sleeping and sweating through
the sheets, and then at one point you awoke and took a shower, and then accused
me of trying to poison you on behalf of your ex-boyfriend.”
I stared in disbelief, apologized, and rushed out the door.
A few weeks later, still feverish, staying at the Taj Mahal
in Varanasi, the room was spinning. I hadn’t eaten much in a few days, and I
was vomiting a slimy green projectile. It was Ghostbusters all over the place.
I was frightened, but Anand said, “You are burning off lifetimes of karma. Your
body and mind now are spinning, because your worlds are shifting so fast, they
have to spin to catch up to the greatness of your soul.”
Or something like that.
That was 2007. It lasted a few hours and then I could stand,
and walk, and brush my teeth, and breathe. Much more occurred on that trip, but
this is a blog about vertigo, because…
Two weeks ago, I had vertigo once again.
I woke up feeling a little funny- clumsy- stumbling as I
walked down the stairs to get breakfast for my fur baby, Henry and me. I
thought, Geez! I am light headed! I just
kept thinking that if I ate something I could ground myself. But as soon as I
had finished half my eggs (from my friend’s grain fed, free range chickens!)
and gluten free toast, I found I couldn’t lift my head without suffering
turbulent waves of nausea.
Historically I’ve always had a little trouble with
clumsiness. I have also had migraines, and motion sickness when flying on small
airplanes. This morning, the house was spinning. I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t
walk, I couldn’t even lift my head. I had to crawl back upstairs to the
bathroom and wait for the spinning to abate.
Nothing was happening, so I texted my roommate. Still early
morning, I wrote, “Hey, when you wake up, can you please come into my room and
help me? J
I am having vertigo and nausea. J “
Yes. I smiley faced my polite texts. I can just imagine some
day, on my dying bed. “Dear Nurse. Dying. Couldn’t empty bed pan this time.
Sorry. Anyway, see you next lifetime; this one has been a delight. Thanks for
the memories. J”
My roommate burst forth from her room. “What’s going on?”
she asked. Her timing was unfortunately excellent. At that exact moment I
reached for my trash bin and surrendered to the Gods of Vomit.
Oh.
Vertigo.
I remembered Anand’s words in that moment: my body and mind
were spinning to catch up to my soul…
$150 later, the Urgent Care doctor said “It’s probably a
virus” and gave me some anti-vertigo medication. Basically, the same thing that
I take on the little planes, of which I had an ample supply in my medicine
cabinet. And then, after being cared for and nurtured by my roommate, my
boyfriend, my dog, my sister, and my mother… And after about 20 hours of rest,
I woke up the next morning feeling like a MILLION BUCKS.
Until:
Monday afternoon I started having that funny feeling again… gee,
my head is spacey. I started feeling
nauseous and then? By the time I was meeting with my scene partner from acting
class? The world would not stop spinning.
When I closed my eyes, I knew I would throw up, so instead,
I stared at the off white ceiling, waiting, waiting, waiting. It was almost a
pleasant experience, the waiting, because I had no choice but to completely
surrender and it brought a calming experience of patience and faith. I knew
this, too, would pass.
I awaited my boyfriend who was coming to pick me up.
Certainly, I could not drive myself. I cannot say I was smiling. The life force
was drained from my existence just then. But I knew that I was not alone, and I
knew that there were reasons beyond my fathoming for this vertigo.
Now it has passed, and now Thursday evening, I am wondering
what it’s all about?
I made an appointment with my Primary Care Physician. I will
have him investigate all the medical reasons for vertigo. I read that Louise
Hay said it was about a “refusal to see,” but that really doesn’t resonate with
me. I mean, look. I’m open! I am asking God to show me what it is I am refusing
to see, as I am open to that being the spiritual cause… but really… I don’t
know if that’s it. I am not certain it’s what Anand told me it was years ago,
but then again, why not? And yet…
Here’s some of what I did ponder during the time of waiting
for the world to stop spinning:
How can I better reach my audience as a writer, singer, life
coach, love guru, psychic, and actress? How can I be more responsible to the
works of art I love? How can I create music and novels and films of value and
artistic integrity that are also entertaining? Once I create those projects,
how do I get them out there to the world so that people can find them? Why am I
having vertigo? Am I the Accidental Whirling Dervish of Valley Glen? These and
other mysteries have I examined in the infinite hills and valleys of my stucco
ceiling.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
From Boy Bands to Love Dogs
From Boy Bands to Love
Dogs
Hello, everyone!
So, the last few days I
was a little MIA. I still cannot reveal complete details, but, basically, I was
hired as an actress on a music video for a very famous boy band… perhaps the
most famous boy band of the moment, and maybe ever.
This is not really a fair
thing to say or assess, because more people have more ways to access technology
than back in the Beatles’ day, and, there are more people running around this
little blue planet in general! Still, they are MIGHTY popular and really cute.
Those of you among my
friends know I’m way more into dark and crafty songwriters in general, but I
like a good top 40 venture now and again!
I was hired without being
told who the band was. I wasn’t given the location or any details until the
night before, and although I actually did have a hunch, I wasn’t sure until I
got there and saw the handsome lads in the flesh… Then I knew I was, in fact,
working on a video being shot out in the middle of nowhere in Agua Dulce for
THE boy band of the moment.
When I arrived, the
production crew had me sign a Non Disclosure Agreement and even taped my phone
with a special seal as I promised not to take any pictures, nor disclose the
name of the band, nor tweet nor instagram… nor… NADA! NOTHING! ZIP! ZILCH!
ZERO!
Until… Um, well I don’t
have a copy of the NDA so I don’t really know when! But I assume once the video
comes out I can tell you who it is. Aw, who’m I kidding! I’m giving plenty of
innuendo as it is!
Still... No pictures with
me and the darling Harry Styles, I’m sad to say!
Why the secrecy? I really
didn’t understand at first except that I know so many television shows, films
and videos really need to bank on the SURPRISE of the audience. Not only that, but they want to TEASE
the audience. Hello, burlesque! It’s all about the TEASE far more than the
strip! I mean, I know a lot of current pop stars are living in a time and place
where the value has been placed on the strip way more than the tease, but
really? We gotta tease and entice somehow!
There was another reason,
I realized, as the shoot went from day one to day two.
On set there were not only
LA Country Sheriffs but also a whole security team monitoring the premises. I
talked a lot with everyone on set, and a lot of the security people had special
training with the FBI for all kinds of things! (One fellow was telling me all
about his “hostage negotiations” training.)
I thought to myself, Geez…
are these guys really under that much threat from anti-boy band types? Then I realized… Oh! Actually they are really
just making sure the shoot can actually happen!
See, on day two, despite
this incredible ban on social media and swearing an oath of secrecy, SOMEHOW,
some information was leaked and a bevy of teen and preteen girls showed up at
the entrance to the desert park where we were shooting. They waited ALL DAY for
a chance to meet these boys!
If the production staff
hadn’t taken those precautions, the shoot may not have happened at all! The set
would have been swarming with fans.
I have never been the kind
of fan that gets so rabid I would wait around all day for the chance to see a
glimpse of a band I liked. I don’t even like waiting in line at the grocery
store! But I do understand that to those girls, and they were all girls in this
instance, these boys represent something about love, and something about
glamour, and something about…
Well, I think, something
about what Rumi wrote when he wrote in LOVE DOGS that the LONGING IN YOUR HEART
(I’m paraphrasing here) is the ANSWER ITSELF…
Say what? Little girls
AREN’T wasting their time tearing up at the thought of meeting a beloved boy
band member?
No. This is a sacred and
divine act, in my book!
Rumi wrote:
"This
longing
you express
is the return message."
The grief
you cry out from
draws you
toward union.
Your pure
sadness
that wants
help
is the
secret cup.
Listen to
the moan of a dog for its master.
That whining
is the connection.
There are
love dogs
no one knows
the names of.
Give your
life
to be one of
them.”
…
In the context of modern society, we have to be so careful
not to use this unrequited love against ourselves. Many of you know that I
spent YEARS in love with love- really- in love with UNREQUITED love. Did it
lead to healthy relationships? Oh, hell no! But what DID it lead to, when
opened up in the right context of surrender to a higher power? It led to that
higher power. And that led me to my heart.
I am therefore grateful to all those relationships that
journeyed so foul, for they broke my heart OPEN, until I really did hand
everything over to the divine and found my source of health in that surrender.
I got to practice my own longing on the video shoot as well!
See, I was originally hired to play a VERY FEATURED PART in
the video, but when I arrived on set, I learned that in fact they wanted me to
play a different part that was going to be hardly featured at all. I was so
disappointed! I wanted my face being seen in that video with 500 bazillion hits
on youtube, damnit!
I really thought long and hard about what to do. If I had
known, when being offered the LESSER part that I was actually granted once I
arrived on set, that I would be “less featured,” I probably would have said no
to the video. But I had said YES, and I keep my commitments. Actors and
entertainers are workhorses, really, at the end of the day. Move us here, put
us there, we do this, we do that, and then we go rest and eat some hay. Or
something.
I don’t like to complain.
And yet, I also want to have boundaries and advance my
career.
I was wondering what to do when the main figurehead of the
band walked up and introduced himself to me. He shook my hand and said, “thanks
so much for helping out! It’s so nice to meet you. Are you okay? Do you need
anything?” I smiled and chatted with him for a moment and watched as he
continued to shake absolutely every single person’s hand. He hung out with the
cast and crew, he brought everyone waters, he was incredibly kind and
incredibly generous and all the lads in the band were so thoughtful and
grateful to have us there. I thought to myself, this guy, he has incredible
humility, and I am blown away. He didn’t
have to go out of his way to be so gracious, and it wasn’t an act. He was just…
cool. So then I thought to myself, come on, girl. Get over your bad
self. Just have fun.
And guess what? I had a blast. I met such wonderful people.
I talked with everyone and stopped thinking about myself and my little temper
stewing in the land of ego. I danced atop desert rocks, I sang along with the
chorus, I smiled at everyone I encountered. And it was fun!
So, the next time you watch a famous boy band’s video on
youtube, look for the nutty blonde in the Zebra patterned outfit… if she has a
big grin on her face, that’s me, finding God, dancing into the surrender.
Monday, September 1, 2014
A Seven Day Thought Detox…
Hey there! Don’t go running away from this blog thinking I
am writing about some Orwellian dystopic concept in which my THOUGHTS ARE BEING
PURIFIED!
…Or, go ahead and run, because Orwellian or not, I am taking
up a 7 day challenge: For seven days, I do not speak negatively about another
person, I do not indulge in gossip, no negative self talk, and to check in on
general negativity.
Now, I am not talking about pretending certain things aren’t
going on for the sake of false “positivity” or some Pollyannistic Presentation
of Life, nor am I talking about living in denial. I AM interested in the idea
that if I engage in this 7 day challenge, I may not complete it perfectly, but
I may discover some new ways I have been limiting my experience of love through
negative attitudes, beliefs or thoughts, whether they be about myself or
others.
Truth be told, this is my general policy, actually, to live
according to this 7 day challenge. I work very hard to NEVER gossip and to
replace any negative thought about my “self” (usually it shows up in the form
of judgment about my legs) ASAP with a positive and true thought (My legs are
so strong and powerful!) (I am love.) (etc.)
Before I accepted this challenge, I had for a few weeks and
still now am doing some personal growth work in which I am listing EVERY THING,
PERSON and SITUATION over which I have resentments, for the purpose of
consciously asking my higher power to take my thoughts and feelings about those
situations and change me into a person who learns, has boundaries, and then
moves on in love and peace.
HA! Of course! This is just so like the cosmos, producer of
such wonders as the stars and the blossoms and Shakespeare and the sonnets…
Why do I say it is SO like the cosmos?
Because for me, it would be easy to be doing my “letting go
of resentment work” and just hide certain ones away for future negative
rumination just when I least need and expect it. ;-p I like to think I’m soooo
enlightened but I’m still in this human body full of secret memory cards tucked
away in various cells and systems and let me tell you: those unwanted visitors
pop up whether I want them to or not, reminding me of my resentments! They may
show up in the form of unawareness and mistakes and accidents, or disease, or
unconscious communication in the heat of the moment.
This is such an exciting prospect for me. One thing I have
learned about myself is that I LOVE handing my life over to the divine, because
it always works out better than I could have imagined and, quite honestly, is
incredibly liberating. All I have to do is what is in front of me, with love/
compassion/ boundaries and as much awareness as I am capable of rising up to
experience. Yup! That’s it. That’s my whole way of life. And so far, since consciously
and consistently practicing that way of life, I have had some amazing growth,
moments of grace in times of tribulation, and of course, as an added bonus, I
met my hot Italian partner that way as well.
There are some areas of my life where I am aware that I hold
myself back, where I am a bit dissatisfied and maybe even dismayed at my
actions, and where I want to challenge myself to be more loving. One of these
areas is surrounding friendships. I am so very lucky to have some wonderful
longtime friends that I feel are like soulmates, and yet I honestly feel that I
could be more loving toward the friends I DO have, and more understanding and
compassionate about certain friends with whom I have what I will call “strange
feelings.”
I know my persona in the world is one that is VERY friendly,
and I LOVE people, lots! But I also am, honestly, pretty darn guarded about the
inner circle of friends. This isn’t always a bad thing, because I certainly
don’t need to be taken advantage of… that wouldn’t be true love, at least not
in my book, because true love doesn’t ENABLE others. And yet…
As much as I am loath to admit it, sometimes, when it comes
to friendships, I know I put up a lot of barriers. Again, part of this may just
be- I mean- I need a lot of alone time. I really rejuvenate by being alone in
nature, and I am not a super social animal but have cultivated the social
butterfly wings very consciously as part of my desire to experience more life!
I have to gear up to go to a party! Not because I don’t love the people there
but because it takes a lot of energy for me to be around a whole lot of people
at once! Performing is totally different. I am in my milieu on stage, and the
audience gives me energy. But being one of the many such as at a party or out
in public takes a lot of energy for me! And as an extension of that
introversion, it takes a long time for me to create long lasting friendships.
So back to this 7 day thought detox. First day, right out of
the gate, I wake up dreaming of an estranged friend from my history and a also
another friend from more recent years with whom I have… strange feelings.
LOL I just realized strange feelings could sound so sexual.
NOPE not what I meant. Just clarifying that for the purpose of this blog!
STRANGE FEELINGS, meaning, there is not yet a total bridge
of complete and utter trust. One or both of us has an agenda that is either not
revealed or not of service to us/ the relationship. The person may simply
remind me of past hurts, or, in the instance of the dream, both friendships
were hurtful to me through means of betrayal IN MY MIND. I could tell you the
whole story and convince you that I was betrayed but that’s a waste of time
whether or not it is true. I don’t want to sit and convince myself that I am
right about terrible things happening to me! I would rather look at the ways
that I and/ or we (my friends and I) allowed enough unawareness and
miscommunication to get in the way of love.
In this dream, these two friends of mine were living
together (something that could never happen in real life if only for the
drastic distance between all of us!) and trying to get me to be their third roommate.
I was driving everyone crazy because I couldn’t decide if I wanted to live
there or not. I worried they would take advantage of me and yet I really wanted
to just be in a sorority with them and share in the love. They were rolling
their eyes and didn’t understand why I thought they would ever take advantage
of me, ever!
And that’s why this detox commitment is so beautiful. I have
consciously agreed that I will not say negative things about others (or self)
and for me, because I almost NEVER SSSSAAAAAAYYYYY anything- out loud!!!- lol-
it is also about feelings of ill will or negative thoughts. That includes,
“that b!@#$ screwed me over!”
So here’s what I did instead of thinking “that b!@#$ screwed
me over” or the passive aggressive or hidden version of that. I have done
PLENTY of journaling about these folks, and of course the sting of what
happened has come up a few times (meaning fresh incidents with each of them)
since the initial struggle. So rather than continuing to write about my feelings
being hurt- because I have acknowledged that- I asked myself:
What am I gaining holding on to my hurt feelings and
resentments?
I must be gaining something, right? Or else I wouldn’t hold
on so tight any longer.
Like, I try to remind myself about one former boyfriend who
WAS abusive- not to perpetuate the anger- but so that if and when he ever calls
again I feel confident ignoring his phone calls. He may have changed or grown
and that will be great for him, but I don’t need that energy in my life! I set
that free, with love and hope for a healthy future!
Why can’t I do the same with these friends? Is this
conscious grieving a lost relationship or hurts within that relationship? Or is
this a hobby and a habit at this point?
I went for a jog during which I thought, “God, change me.
Change me into the woman who no longer harbors these resentments. Change me
into a woman who is loving and free, who doesn’t need to prove anything to them
or have anything proven to me. Free us all of these shackles and let
unconditional love be the only energy present between us.”
Let’s see if it works! I figure, at the end, at least I can
let go of a grudge. Some people in my life have told me they think grudges are
important or justifiable and I am of an opposing viewpoint: they do nothing for
you, the grudge holder. A grudge is a prison of your mind and your heart. You
are subject to that prison as long as you hold on to that grudge. I want to
walk free, and I want you to walk free, too!
Tonight, in my dreams, maybe we will all just go to
Disneyland together, and part ways at the end of the day with smiles.
In the meantime, Have a great day, and good luck!
This video is presented as an affirmation that I love my legs. :)
Thursday, July 17, 2014
The Mabel Way
I have written a lot about my lovely grandmother, Mabel, who manages to seep into my daily life and thoughts despite having passed 20 years ago! She's the gal who taught me to collect 4-leaf clovers and would give me a "penny for your thoughts," so that every time I see a penny, I feel her participating in my life and remember how she would very actively engage me as a young girl. Through that simple act of asking and exchanging, she encouraged me to communicate my ideas to other people and so, these days, I don't let those pennies remain on the ground. I like to pick them up and spread them around, because to me, a penny isn't just a cent. It's a thought, a feeling, an idea, an experience.
So, I have been thinking a lot lately about what she taught my mother and therefore what my mother taught me, which is that you don't have to LIKE every person, but you do get to be KIND to every person. True love doesn't enable bad behavior, but it does love them.
During my last trip home to see my parents, my mother recounted a conversation she had with Grandma during Grandma's last days. Mom said something along the lines of... oh, I don't know exactly of course, but something like, thanks for being such a wonderful grandmother to all the little ones. And Grandma said, "I worked at it."
That was a big surprise to my mother when she heard it, and me when I heard it, because we all thought Grandma was just, well, Grandma!
Now, maybe it was her clever and blithe spirit teaching all of us (me and my mother) a little lesson or maybe it was true, but I see that the more I practice- work at it- the more fun it is to love everyone. Yes! Fun! Even the tough ones.
I remember a story about Grandma and a heavy breathing phone caller back when my mom and her sisters and brother were little kids. My mom and her siblings were kids in the 60s, and so the house had one phone and no caller ID back then, of course. Someone would call.... SOMEONE..... but who? This person would call on the reg, and start breathing heavily into the phone. Of course, this person only did that if one of the girls answered- it was a house of four daughters! They would never do that when it was my grandfather answering the phone. In those moments, the caller simply hung up.
Now, since we don't know, and never did find out, who knows if the caller was a pimply neighbor kid down the street pranking them (I did tons of that as a kid!) or some creepy pervert or somewhere in between or worse. But I do know, those phone calls TERRORIZED my aunts and mom! They would freak out when the call would come.
Finally, one day, the call came, one of the girls answered, the breathing started, her eyes got big and she pointed the phone. "It's him! It's him!" she whispered loud enough for the house to hear.
My grandmother got on the phone.
"Hello?" she answered?
(I can just imagine her sweet voice, instantly engaging the person across those lines....)
Heavy breathing.
"Hello?" she answered again. She paused, then said, "You know, you must be a very sad and lonely person. I feel so bad for you, having to call people this way and behave this way just for some attention. If you're bored, there are libraries just full of books. I really hope you find some way to make some real friends, and not have to bother other people like...."
Click.
I can just see her beaming smile as she replaced the receiver...
So, we've all had some version of the phone prank, or the heavy breather. And it isn't always as relatively... dare I say innocent? At least... NOT dangerous... as this situation.
But what I love about this example is that my grandmother not only refused to be intimidated, she responded lovingly and somewhat passively and sarcastically but without losing her temper and without getting upset. In other words, she owned the phone, baby! She took the power back, and was lovingly forgiving while still letting that heavy breather know he (presumably) was pathetic and should find a better hobby.
That heavy breather never called back.
I think about that because of life in Los Angeles in 2014.
I watch people losing their $%^& (I can't say temper, as my wonderfully couth Grandmother would approve, because here, it is $%^& they are losing!) on the roads simply because someone else doesn't drive as fast as they prefer, or because someone lingers two seconds at a stop light. I watch myself engage in that activity and catch myself. Not only does me getting mad in my car do NOTHING to improve traffic, it worsens my mood (not to mention my blood pressure levels.) It is one of the LAST arenas in which I catch myself being a brat, even if only I notice.
But traffic is an easy example. I think about how temperamental people get in public places, with their spouses, with themselves!
And the temper tantrum occurs and the rage feels justified and it seems like it gets it all out but really, doesn't it just more deeply justify the next instance of unhealthy behavior in your pattern?
And then I think of the Mabel Way. She just owned that heavy breather. She didn't have a temper tantrum on the phone even though she was angry at the caller for terrorizing her children and wasting her time. She didn't give HIM that power, nor HER that level of stress. She just said, "I feel bad for you."
Lovely, loving, and strong.
Maybe worth trying on a grand scale!?
........
Penny for your thoughts?
XOXOXOOXOX
Erin
So, I have been thinking a lot lately about what she taught my mother and therefore what my mother taught me, which is that you don't have to LIKE every person, but you do get to be KIND to every person. True love doesn't enable bad behavior, but it does love them.
During my last trip home to see my parents, my mother recounted a conversation she had with Grandma during Grandma's last days. Mom said something along the lines of... oh, I don't know exactly of course, but something like, thanks for being such a wonderful grandmother to all the little ones. And Grandma said, "I worked at it."
That was a big surprise to my mother when she heard it, and me when I heard it, because we all thought Grandma was just, well, Grandma!
Now, maybe it was her clever and blithe spirit teaching all of us (me and my mother) a little lesson or maybe it was true, but I see that the more I practice- work at it- the more fun it is to love everyone. Yes! Fun! Even the tough ones.
I remember a story about Grandma and a heavy breathing phone caller back when my mom and her sisters and brother were little kids. My mom and her siblings were kids in the 60s, and so the house had one phone and no caller ID back then, of course. Someone would call.... SOMEONE..... but who? This person would call on the reg, and start breathing heavily into the phone. Of course, this person only did that if one of the girls answered- it was a house of four daughters! They would never do that when it was my grandfather answering the phone. In those moments, the caller simply hung up.
Now, since we don't know, and never did find out, who knows if the caller was a pimply neighbor kid down the street pranking them (I did tons of that as a kid!) or some creepy pervert or somewhere in between or worse. But I do know, those phone calls TERRORIZED my aunts and mom! They would freak out when the call would come.
Finally, one day, the call came, one of the girls answered, the breathing started, her eyes got big and she pointed the phone. "It's him! It's him!" she whispered loud enough for the house to hear.
My grandmother got on the phone.
"Hello?" she answered?
(I can just imagine her sweet voice, instantly engaging the person across those lines....)
Heavy breathing.
"Hello?" she answered again. She paused, then said, "You know, you must be a very sad and lonely person. I feel so bad for you, having to call people this way and behave this way just for some attention. If you're bored, there are libraries just full of books. I really hope you find some way to make some real friends, and not have to bother other people like...."
Click.
I can just see her beaming smile as she replaced the receiver...
So, we've all had some version of the phone prank, or the heavy breather. And it isn't always as relatively... dare I say innocent? At least... NOT dangerous... as this situation.
But what I love about this example is that my grandmother not only refused to be intimidated, she responded lovingly and somewhat passively and sarcastically but without losing her temper and without getting upset. In other words, she owned the phone, baby! She took the power back, and was lovingly forgiving while still letting that heavy breather know he (presumably) was pathetic and should find a better hobby.
That heavy breather never called back.
I think about that because of life in Los Angeles in 2014.
I watch people losing their $%^& (I can't say temper, as my wonderfully couth Grandmother would approve, because here, it is $%^& they are losing!) on the roads simply because someone else doesn't drive as fast as they prefer, or because someone lingers two seconds at a stop light. I watch myself engage in that activity and catch myself. Not only does me getting mad in my car do NOTHING to improve traffic, it worsens my mood (not to mention my blood pressure levels.) It is one of the LAST arenas in which I catch myself being a brat, even if only I notice.
But traffic is an easy example. I think about how temperamental people get in public places, with their spouses, with themselves!
And the temper tantrum occurs and the rage feels justified and it seems like it gets it all out but really, doesn't it just more deeply justify the next instance of unhealthy behavior in your pattern?
And then I think of the Mabel Way. She just owned that heavy breather. She didn't have a temper tantrum on the phone even though she was angry at the caller for terrorizing her children and wasting her time. She didn't give HIM that power, nor HER that level of stress. She just said, "I feel bad for you."
Lovely, loving, and strong.
Maybe worth trying on a grand scale!?
........
Penny for your thoughts?
XOXOXOOXOX
Erin
Friday, June 27, 2014
Singing, and Writing about Singing
I know only that I felt the impulse this morning. I awoke early with the buzz in my ear. I know that buzz. It's somewhere between an angel's sigh and a low hum. It's quiet, until I remove my attention from any other thought (traffic. the phone is ringing. rent is due soon. Oh, $%^& rent is due soon.). It is so easy NOT to listen to the hum (Oh, rapturous!) and instead let the LOUD hum of the collective human thought take over... but I choose the call of creation because I believe that by tuning into nature, or somewhere out there beyond right and wrong, or, wherever this hum will lead me today... I can at least change MY life for the better and more beautiful, if not someone else's.
Also, because I have, for most of my life, found that if I choose the hum of disconnected, random human thoughts that aren't called forth from my heart, I am very unhappy. So. Heart it is.
I am not one to believe that my thoughts are real. Oh, I can sometimes buy into them but as quickly as I can I pull out. Why? Well, I ask you, why not? Believing that your thoughts are real is dangerous because then when your thoughts change- and they will- just by dint of being alive you will learn something new. Trust me. Even the most religiously faithful to living according to "old ways" canNOT truly live that way because of the mere existence of cell phones and airplanes. Anyway back to this- when your thoughts change- or, rather, the world changes ITS thought but you only partially change YOUR thought, well then, you may just build up anger, resentment, and fear like plaque on your soul.
I don't really believe in plaque on your soul, either, but it's a fun metaphor to loosen up patterns that no longer work for me.
So talking about this and living this are two different things and for me, that is where writing, singing, and songwriting come together. Because through the act of listening, and then writing down what I hear, I get to practice dipping into the {collective} or "source" or UNIVERSE or the muses or whatever we want to call it- and then channel it into "individuality" if only for a moment. i.e. THROUGH this body and all its patterns and habits and growth.
Last night I sang at a beautiful little space off Sunset Boulevard. Charlie Chaplin's old house, in fact. It's now a light-filled wine bar literally three feet from one of the most famous streets in the world. Across the street from the Chateau Marmont and steeped in Hollywood lore. I love Hollywood, similarly to how I love literature. It thrills me, pains me, takes me on journeys and I wanna be a part of it. AND I know that it is not so much "REAL" as much as it shows me who I am at this moment by response to it.
See, this is, I think, the thing about thoughts, and life, and people, and art, and sports and politics and all the rest of it. Really, all any of it/ us is/are ever doing is showing us who we are. I am NOT conservative, I AM a bohemian, I am NOT a bohemian that doesn't use deoderant, Or blah blah blah whatever. That would be the outer personality of an Er-Bear, well, this Er-Bear anyway! I happen to know through the miracle of Google there are lots of other Erin Muirs out there and lots who identify with the nickname Er-Bear. And I know one Erin Muir at least is pretty conservative and definitely NOT a bohemian (she's military- and a very cool chick I might add!) And guess what. I look at her and I see me, parts of me. And I lose a little judgment and enter more understanding and then,
I write a song.
And then I sing that song.
Like last night.
Last night I had the most beautiful band. Great musicians. Great souls. The people who came to hear me sing are among my favorite people in the land- true friends among them- new friends. And there were moments when I just felt we were flying. I have this thing where, when it's good, I have no idea what I will sing next (and the song could be Happy Birthday!) I have no idea what I am writing next- I just let these words tumble out- and it is electrifying and terrifying and beautiful.
So something about last night- the way the late afternoon sun filtered through white curtains and white walls- the way the traffic outside would speed and then slow and people would poke their heads in to hear what was going on- the way I could look at everyone in their beautiful eyes and feel a shared moment- whether or not that was love I - well it was, really. It was all love. It was all love.
Also, because I have, for most of my life, found that if I choose the hum of disconnected, random human thoughts that aren't called forth from my heart, I am very unhappy. So. Heart it is.
I am not one to believe that my thoughts are real. Oh, I can sometimes buy into them but as quickly as I can I pull out. Why? Well, I ask you, why not? Believing that your thoughts are real is dangerous because then when your thoughts change- and they will- just by dint of being alive you will learn something new. Trust me. Even the most religiously faithful to living according to "old ways" canNOT truly live that way because of the mere existence of cell phones and airplanes. Anyway back to this- when your thoughts change- or, rather, the world changes ITS thought but you only partially change YOUR thought, well then, you may just build up anger, resentment, and fear like plaque on your soul.
I don't really believe in plaque on your soul, either, but it's a fun metaphor to loosen up patterns that no longer work for me.
So talking about this and living this are two different things and for me, that is where writing, singing, and songwriting come together. Because through the act of listening, and then writing down what I hear, I get to practice dipping into the {collective} or "source" or UNIVERSE or the muses or whatever we want to call it- and then channel it into "individuality" if only for a moment. i.e. THROUGH this body and all its patterns and habits and growth.
Last night I sang at a beautiful little space off Sunset Boulevard. Charlie Chaplin's old house, in fact. It's now a light-filled wine bar literally three feet from one of the most famous streets in the world. Across the street from the Chateau Marmont and steeped in Hollywood lore. I love Hollywood, similarly to how I love literature. It thrills me, pains me, takes me on journeys and I wanna be a part of it. AND I know that it is not so much "REAL" as much as it shows me who I am at this moment by response to it.
See, this is, I think, the thing about thoughts, and life, and people, and art, and sports and politics and all the rest of it. Really, all any of it/ us is/are ever doing is showing us who we are. I am NOT conservative, I AM a bohemian, I am NOT a bohemian that doesn't use deoderant, Or blah blah blah whatever. That would be the outer personality of an Er-Bear, well, this Er-Bear anyway! I happen to know through the miracle of Google there are lots of other Erin Muirs out there and lots who identify with the nickname Er-Bear. And I know one Erin Muir at least is pretty conservative and definitely NOT a bohemian (she's military- and a very cool chick I might add!) And guess what. I look at her and I see me, parts of me. And I lose a little judgment and enter more understanding and then,
I write a song.
And then I sing that song.
Like last night.
Last night I had the most beautiful band. Great musicians. Great souls. The people who came to hear me sing are among my favorite people in the land- true friends among them- new friends. And there were moments when I just felt we were flying. I have this thing where, when it's good, I have no idea what I will sing next (and the song could be Happy Birthday!) I have no idea what I am writing next- I just let these words tumble out- and it is electrifying and terrifying and beautiful.
So something about last night- the way the late afternoon sun filtered through white curtains and white walls- the way the traffic outside would speed and then slow and people would poke their heads in to hear what was going on- the way I could look at everyone in their beautiful eyes and feel a shared moment- whether or not that was love I - well it was, really. It was all love. It was all love.
Friday, June 6, 2014
Imagine Graduation
There are so many beauties I want to share with the world, with you... I feel so full of love and creation that you might think I was pregnant. (I am not.) Well, one could say I am always pregnant with artistic ideas, songs and poems, and wishes of love for this old world. Today I am especially in love, that orange slice moon low-hanging in the sky, the Angeleno skies crippled for stars but rich with choppers. How can I be so moved in a place so unpoetic as a trash lined Victory Boulevard two blocks from three 7-11s? I don't know, but I can be, and I am, and the world is brilliant with possibility even in the urban quickening of foggy night.
Tonight was a beautiful evening. I had the privilege of performing as a guest singer at the high school graduation party of a young man who has cerebral palsy. While that may be the first thing anyone notices about him, it is certainly one of the least of his defining aspects of life. Throughout the evening, everyone shared in toasts and in conversation about this young man's joy and zest for life. He gave a speech himself (through the use of a computer tablet that he types into and which then "speaks" his words) that was so wonderful. He shared with us all how important he thinks education is, how important it is to read and communicate and share music. He told us never to give up, that you can do anything you want if you put your mind to it, and that to remember that no matter what, "Life is beautiful."
There is another reason that this moment held SO much meaning for me:
Most of you who know me, or have read my blog at all, know that in my teens I struggled with eating disorders, depression, thoughts of suicide and even went through various therapies and rehabilitation to overcome those issues. It was a long road, but I succeeded. I am today a very happy, healthy, positive woman who knows how to live life fully. I want always to be giving back and to help others in need.
And by the way, when I say it was a long road, well, the time may be relative, but it was a lot of work on myself and my attitudes toward life. It wasn't an intellectual decision to "get better" that did the trick, although that was part of it.... it wasn't something that I just one day decided to "get over." It took a lot of work, meditation, spiritual transformation, prayer and miracle (in my case, at least.) But I get it, I do, and I am living proof that, as Shakespeare said through Hamlet, "use can almost change the stamp of nature." Meaning: change your thoughts, change your life. (Thanks, Wayne Dyer!)
So, when I was at my worst point in life, when I thought it was not worth living anymore (but I didn't want to hurt my mother that deeply,) and I had just left college and being a music major and was stuck going to shrinks and group therapy and living at home and trying to come up with any reason why I should go on living, there was a TV show that I watched with my sister. This show made me laugh and laugh and laugh. In fact, it was one of the only things in life that I looked forward to at that time. It sustained me for quite some time, until I could get up enough on my own inner sense of courage to get back to my life. I can't say that it saved my life, because what saved my life is part mystery, part family support, and partly my own inner need to fulfill my life as a singer/ performer/ writer. But I can tell you that this show was one of the ONLY things that made me happy.
So, flash forward to years later. It was around 2012, or 2013, when I met this boy with cerebral palsy. I met him because he was a fan and then friend of a dear musician friend of mine, and soon, he would also listen to my music as well. It was months before I learned that his mother was the star of that TV show I loved.
One day, at a concert my friend was hosting, I ran into her. She said to me, "Just so you know, my son listens to your music on YouTube every time. Sometimes five, six, seven times a day." I didn't have the courage to tell her then- and I still haven't had the courage, but maybe an opportunity will arise and I will be able to say to her- how amazing it is that SHE HERSELF gave ME so much joy at a time when very little made me happy, and now it is an honor that I get to give back to her child. The fact remains that I almost didn't make it in life, I almost didn't go on living, (the stories of how and when I neared death will be saved for another time, or perhaps never, because they are not heroic nor to be glorified, but shared only with the intention of healing other hurt hearts...) and this is perhaps one of the most amazing gifts from the divine; a connect-the-dot from her heart to my heart to her child's heart through time and space... how could I have known while living in Minnesota all those years ago that I would someday be able to give back in 2014 in California? How amazing is this life? How wondrous these unseen events, this blue orb in the heavens spinning with so many delights! Oh, if only we can stay a little bit longer than we think we should, just to see the light dazzle in another's eyes, the song linger in all our ears. For if I had done the deed and had not lived, I would never receive this moment, this "proof" that it was all for some very important reason that each of us was put here on earth.
The young man said it himself. Life is beautiful.
As some of you know, I am currently singing as Cynthia Lennon in a new musical about John Lennon and Yoko Ono. Sometimes I think about John Lennon and all the good that I know and all the less than great (I am loath to say "bad") that I have learned and I think, we are all just trying! We are all so human. And then a moment of purity comes along and I feel that hope I discovered as a young girl, sitting down to play my mother's favorite song at the piano when I was about ten years old; the song with which we closed the evening tonight, that everyone joined in and sang along with, whether they were 6 or 60, in a wheelchair or walking, man or woman, parent or child....
Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...
Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one
I hope you are so inspired to bloom where you grow. Make your music, bang your drums, cook and sing and write and paint and run and jump for joy. I love you.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DVg2EJvvlF8
Tonight was a beautiful evening. I had the privilege of performing as a guest singer at the high school graduation party of a young man who has cerebral palsy. While that may be the first thing anyone notices about him, it is certainly one of the least of his defining aspects of life. Throughout the evening, everyone shared in toasts and in conversation about this young man's joy and zest for life. He gave a speech himself (through the use of a computer tablet that he types into and which then "speaks" his words) that was so wonderful. He shared with us all how important he thinks education is, how important it is to read and communicate and share music. He told us never to give up, that you can do anything you want if you put your mind to it, and that to remember that no matter what, "Life is beautiful."
There is another reason that this moment held SO much meaning for me:
Most of you who know me, or have read my blog at all, know that in my teens I struggled with eating disorders, depression, thoughts of suicide and even went through various therapies and rehabilitation to overcome those issues. It was a long road, but I succeeded. I am today a very happy, healthy, positive woman who knows how to live life fully. I want always to be giving back and to help others in need.
And by the way, when I say it was a long road, well, the time may be relative, but it was a lot of work on myself and my attitudes toward life. It wasn't an intellectual decision to "get better" that did the trick, although that was part of it.... it wasn't something that I just one day decided to "get over." It took a lot of work, meditation, spiritual transformation, prayer and miracle (in my case, at least.) But I get it, I do, and I am living proof that, as Shakespeare said through Hamlet, "use can almost change the stamp of nature." Meaning: change your thoughts, change your life. (Thanks, Wayne Dyer!)
So, when I was at my worst point in life, when I thought it was not worth living anymore (but I didn't want to hurt my mother that deeply,) and I had just left college and being a music major and was stuck going to shrinks and group therapy and living at home and trying to come up with any reason why I should go on living, there was a TV show that I watched with my sister. This show made me laugh and laugh and laugh. In fact, it was one of the only things in life that I looked forward to at that time. It sustained me for quite some time, until I could get up enough on my own inner sense of courage to get back to my life. I can't say that it saved my life, because what saved my life is part mystery, part family support, and partly my own inner need to fulfill my life as a singer/ performer/ writer. But I can tell you that this show was one of the ONLY things that made me happy.
So, flash forward to years later. It was around 2012, or 2013, when I met this boy with cerebral palsy. I met him because he was a fan and then friend of a dear musician friend of mine, and soon, he would also listen to my music as well. It was months before I learned that his mother was the star of that TV show I loved.
One day, at a concert my friend was hosting, I ran into her. She said to me, "Just so you know, my son listens to your music on YouTube every time. Sometimes five, six, seven times a day." I didn't have the courage to tell her then- and I still haven't had the courage, but maybe an opportunity will arise and I will be able to say to her- how amazing it is that SHE HERSELF gave ME so much joy at a time when very little made me happy, and now it is an honor that I get to give back to her child. The fact remains that I almost didn't make it in life, I almost didn't go on living, (the stories of how and when I neared death will be saved for another time, or perhaps never, because they are not heroic nor to be glorified, but shared only with the intention of healing other hurt hearts...) and this is perhaps one of the most amazing gifts from the divine; a connect-the-dot from her heart to my heart to her child's heart through time and space... how could I have known while living in Minnesota all those years ago that I would someday be able to give back in 2014 in California? How amazing is this life? How wondrous these unseen events, this blue orb in the heavens spinning with so many delights! Oh, if only we can stay a little bit longer than we think we should, just to see the light dazzle in another's eyes, the song linger in all our ears. For if I had done the deed and had not lived, I would never receive this moment, this "proof" that it was all for some very important reason that each of us was put here on earth.
The young man said it himself. Life is beautiful.
As some of you know, I am currently singing as Cynthia Lennon in a new musical about John Lennon and Yoko Ono. Sometimes I think about John Lennon and all the good that I know and all the less than great (I am loath to say "bad") that I have learned and I think, we are all just trying! We are all so human. And then a moment of purity comes along and I feel that hope I discovered as a young girl, sitting down to play my mother's favorite song at the piano when I was about ten years old; the song with which we closed the evening tonight, that everyone joined in and sang along with, whether they were 6 or 60, in a wheelchair or walking, man or woman, parent or child....
Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...
Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one
I hope you are so inspired to bloom where you grow. Make your music, bang your drums, cook and sing and write and paint and run and jump for joy. I love you.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DVg2EJvvlF8
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
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
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
Thursday, April 3, 2014
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
-->
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 40th 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
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 40th 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.
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the little black dress, size 4.
Friday, March 14, 2014
Happy Birthday, Mabel!!!!
March 14th, 2014
It's my Grandma's birthday. Well, it would be, if she hadn't passed away 20 years ago. She was only 67 when she died.
These days in Hollywood, most guys that age think they are the perfect age to date me and my girlfriends. I'm being flip, but boy is this a weird world when you think about it. The year the gov invented the age of retirement was based on the average life span at that time. Now, people are living, working, WOWING well into elder years.... I'm thinking of Elaine Stritch at the moment, the Broadway performer I just saw in a great documentary.... she's still gorgeous, vivacious, hilarious, beautiful.... and sexy! In her late 80s....
Well, back to this blog about Mabel. See, I was prompted to sit down and blog a little about her, but I don't have a specific A, B, C plot point-with-twist ending story line in mind. Usually, when I'm about to blog about something or someone, I have in mind already the vision for its unfurling. We're winging it together here, now.
Some of my family say I am just like my Grandmother. That's a huge compliment. She was a woman of magic and fun. She was the original four leaf clover collector. She would stay up late playing Trivial Pursuit and poker and watching old movies only to go out fishing just before dawn. She always loved to be where the fun was at and I mostly remember her eating Cheetos and drinking Pepsi and coffee.
And she smoked. That's what killed her, in fact. She died of Emphysema at that terribly too young to die age of 67. More about that in a moment.
Because she didn't die before she instilled in me a very few important things. She instilled in me a sense of wonder, and a love of learning. Of course she was the gal behind my passion for the classic films. She was a member of the Greatest Generation and they were HER movies. They became mine, too. :) By the time I was 12, I preferred Clark Gable to any Tiger Beat idol. I was a weird kid, but my Grandmother encouraged me to reach out and share my idiosyncracies with others. Now, as a grown up, I'm still definitely "different" than most people I meet, but I love these differences as well as I love to look for the similarities.
I wonder what it's like to be an older person. My mother is in her young 60s, and she says it's great, because you care less and less what other people think of you. :)
My grandmother lived with us right before she passed away and I spent a lot of time with her. I feel it was a huge gift as a 'tween girl to see illness, dying and death up close and personal. First of all, since she died of emphysema due to 50 PLUS years of smoking, I have never smoked. The death that smoking leads to is not fun and not easy. It is painful and tragic, completely stealing your breath away. It's terrifying and sad.
I also got at a very early age that life can be short- too short. That you only get these few moments and then it's gone. We all "know" that in our minds, but do we LIVE that in our hearts? Is it important?
I don't know. It's a great experiment that I am trying.
My aunt recently said to my mother that "Erin is most like Mom [Grandma], don't you think?" My mom responded, with honesty, "She has twice the risk taking and half the common sense." I laugh, but it's true. But it's also the gift of my generation. I don't have to be married with five kids unless I choose that. That was her life and she loved it. I know she did because she told me story after story about her time during World War II, about working at an ice cream shop, about meeting my Grandfather and getting married and having kids, about making a dime stretch as long as a dollar. About sewing the first bikinis and the surprise about Rock Hudson being gay. And all of this she told me with great respect for her fellow humans.
I am like her, I think, because I have learned (slower than she did, and after a lot of trial and error) that THIS MOMENT IS PRECIOUS. And I live accordingly. And if I forget just a little, the universe seems to conspire to quickly bring me back into alignment to CHOOSE JOY and CHOOSE LOVE. See, I practice these things as a way of life, consciously. And I think she was just, in a way, ahead of her time, and in another way, completely of her time in regards to living each moment with as much love and fun and integrity as possible.
She died over the course of a few days. Really, she died very slowly, over the course of weeks, months, and even years. She tried to quit smoking, I remember, many times. It's a very hard one to quit and I wish you would all quit immediately if you do smoke. My boyfriend recently told me I was very strict and hard core with my attitude about cigarettes, but I will skip, for now, sharing the gory details about cleaning up bloody phlegm from my best friend and favorite person at age 11.
The night she died, a few of my aunts were visiting. Some things are sacred and that feels too sacred to share here and now, except this: I remember praying so hard to God, asking if my Grandmother could just get well, or at least live a little longer. But I knew how much pain she was in. I knew, in my tender child's heart, without understanding on an intellectual level, she was going and it was a saving grace. I only wished I could have told her better how much I loved her and, also, I remember thinking I would not be a brat anymore. (I did have a temper now and then.) It matured me. I wasn't afraid of the fact that people died any more, but I was afraid that I wouldn't truly live, and I felt bad for others who didn't get to fulfill their lives, either.
I think that night she died, without saying it or realizing it fully, I became a true lover of life.
Happy birthday, Grandma. I'd eat some Cheetos on your behalf and find an ice cold Pepsi in a glass bottle, but, I'm a health food freak. (That one I got from my Mother!) So instead, I dedicate the next 100 four leaf clovers and the three songs to you.
I Love You Always,
Erin
It's my Grandma's birthday. Well, it would be, if she hadn't passed away 20 years ago. She was only 67 when she died.
These days in Hollywood, most guys that age think they are the perfect age to date me and my girlfriends. I'm being flip, but boy is this a weird world when you think about it. The year the gov invented the age of retirement was based on the average life span at that time. Now, people are living, working, WOWING well into elder years.... I'm thinking of Elaine Stritch at the moment, the Broadway performer I just saw in a great documentary.... she's still gorgeous, vivacious, hilarious, beautiful.... and sexy! In her late 80s....
Well, back to this blog about Mabel. See, I was prompted to sit down and blog a little about her, but I don't have a specific A, B, C plot point-with-twist ending story line in mind. Usually, when I'm about to blog about something or someone, I have in mind already the vision for its unfurling. We're winging it together here, now.
Some of my family say I am just like my Grandmother. That's a huge compliment. She was a woman of magic and fun. She was the original four leaf clover collector. She would stay up late playing Trivial Pursuit and poker and watching old movies only to go out fishing just before dawn. She always loved to be where the fun was at and I mostly remember her eating Cheetos and drinking Pepsi and coffee.
And she smoked. That's what killed her, in fact. She died of Emphysema at that terribly too young to die age of 67. More about that in a moment.
Because she didn't die before she instilled in me a very few important things. She instilled in me a sense of wonder, and a love of learning. Of course she was the gal behind my passion for the classic films. She was a member of the Greatest Generation and they were HER movies. They became mine, too. :) By the time I was 12, I preferred Clark Gable to any Tiger Beat idol. I was a weird kid, but my Grandmother encouraged me to reach out and share my idiosyncracies with others. Now, as a grown up, I'm still definitely "different" than most people I meet, but I love these differences as well as I love to look for the similarities.
I wonder what it's like to be an older person. My mother is in her young 60s, and she says it's great, because you care less and less what other people think of you. :)
My grandmother lived with us right before she passed away and I spent a lot of time with her. I feel it was a huge gift as a 'tween girl to see illness, dying and death up close and personal. First of all, since she died of emphysema due to 50 PLUS years of smoking, I have never smoked. The death that smoking leads to is not fun and not easy. It is painful and tragic, completely stealing your breath away. It's terrifying and sad.
I also got at a very early age that life can be short- too short. That you only get these few moments and then it's gone. We all "know" that in our minds, but do we LIVE that in our hearts? Is it important?
I don't know. It's a great experiment that I am trying.
My aunt recently said to my mother that "Erin is most like Mom [Grandma], don't you think?" My mom responded, with honesty, "She has twice the risk taking and half the common sense." I laugh, but it's true. But it's also the gift of my generation. I don't have to be married with five kids unless I choose that. That was her life and she loved it. I know she did because she told me story after story about her time during World War II, about working at an ice cream shop, about meeting my Grandfather and getting married and having kids, about making a dime stretch as long as a dollar. About sewing the first bikinis and the surprise about Rock Hudson being gay. And all of this she told me with great respect for her fellow humans.
I am like her, I think, because I have learned (slower than she did, and after a lot of trial and error) that THIS MOMENT IS PRECIOUS. And I live accordingly. And if I forget just a little, the universe seems to conspire to quickly bring me back into alignment to CHOOSE JOY and CHOOSE LOVE. See, I practice these things as a way of life, consciously. And I think she was just, in a way, ahead of her time, and in another way, completely of her time in regards to living each moment with as much love and fun and integrity as possible.
She died over the course of a few days. Really, she died very slowly, over the course of weeks, months, and even years. She tried to quit smoking, I remember, many times. It's a very hard one to quit and I wish you would all quit immediately if you do smoke. My boyfriend recently told me I was very strict and hard core with my attitude about cigarettes, but I will skip, for now, sharing the gory details about cleaning up bloody phlegm from my best friend and favorite person at age 11.
The night she died, a few of my aunts were visiting. Some things are sacred and that feels too sacred to share here and now, except this: I remember praying so hard to God, asking if my Grandmother could just get well, or at least live a little longer. But I knew how much pain she was in. I knew, in my tender child's heart, without understanding on an intellectual level, she was going and it was a saving grace. I only wished I could have told her better how much I loved her and, also, I remember thinking I would not be a brat anymore. (I did have a temper now and then.) It matured me. I wasn't afraid of the fact that people died any more, but I was afraid that I wouldn't truly live, and I felt bad for others who didn't get to fulfill their lives, either.
I think that night she died, without saying it or realizing it fully, I became a true lover of life.
Happy birthday, Grandma. I'd eat some Cheetos on your behalf and find an ice cold Pepsi in a glass bottle, but, I'm a health food freak. (That one I got from my Mother!) So instead, I dedicate the next 100 four leaf clovers and the three songs to you.
I Love You Always,
Erin
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The Usual The stink. The plink and clink, so rinky-dink, Our winkless cries went down the kitch’n sink. Oh, strum und drang. D’you k...
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A brief pause on writing about Henry to let you all know that.... I am so excited that I can finally announce this! Last summer I had a majo...