Hi everyone! Greetings from Naples! My first blog post comes nine days into my trip; the first few days were taken up with getting oriented, and the last five with recovering from a back injury that had me out of commission for a while. I’m still recovering, but felt well enough yesterday to take my first trip out of town.
First, a little bit about Naples itself: [click to continue…]
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Fellow actors & writers: we all know that our work hinges on the written or spoken word, right? Our characters express themselves to the audience that way, and the main device we use to inform our work as creators and facilitators of character is through what’s written.
But I’d like to take you through a little exercise that works with what isn’t written. What isn’t spoken. What isn’t shared openly, but exists as an undercurrent to your creation. It may seem obvious to some – to others it may feel like the most foreign concept ever. But working between the lines creates a character with a more complete root system. It also allows us to infuse our own unique kind of life into the character, to give him an inner life that no one else could ever give.
This exercise is best done with your imagination wide open and your censor/critic put to bed for the night. The answers may not come out of the text, or your outline or background work. Trust what comes. Let yourself go for the juicy answer, even if you can’t justify or understand it. Stick with it, friends. And I want to hear what this exercise puts you in touch with.
(Lit. note: I’m just going to use “him”, not “her” or “him/her”. It’s not because I like boys better than girls or think the world should be him-centric. I just like a clean page. Thanks.)
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Yesterday I had a great talk with a great friend about this unique process of diving into the creative fire every day. (Also known as auditioning my ass off.) After relaying the play-by-play of a Friday evening audition, he commiserated with me about the fact that we artists have to develop the proverbial thick skin in order to survive this life of rejection.
We’ve all heard it before, right? And when my friend said this I nodded and agreed because it seems so obvious and so true, but something about it got thorny for me. It stuck in my side all day. Hm. Do I really want to be thick-skinned? I’m not sure I do – as an artist or as a human being.
“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you, with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken or betrayed or left or hurt or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree, and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.” – Louise Erdrich
What does a thick skin protect you from? Pain, yes. Heartbreak, yes. And yearning, and helplessness. And also unabashed joy. A thick skin keeps out tenderness, and vulnerability, which spiritual teacher Christie Marie Sheldon reminds us, is really just being totally who you really are. Who doesn’t want that?
“It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
“It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.
“I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
“I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.”
- Oriah Mountain Dreamer, The Invitation
Now, let’s bring this to the realm of the artist’s life and particularly, the actor’s life. Imagine for a moment, an actor with a thick skin. Really get that. Now: What can get in? What can get out?
Actors are conduits for life’s emotions. We are oracles of the depths of the heart. We experience deeply, and transmit that energy to the audience who then experiences more deeply for having taken us in. This may sound mystical, and it is, but it’s also just the plain ol’ truth about this beloved craft of mine. And I consider it my number one job to remain open-hearted and thin-skinned, so as much as possible can get in, get out, transmit and touch into the hearts of us all.
But living thin-skinned is like sitting on a live wire – how do we endure it without feeling like an exposed nerve all the time?
One answer, and I don’t claim to know THE answer, but one answer I’m finding is to build resiliency and strength in that thin skin through vigilant self-responsibility. For me that means learning to be present to my emotions – ALL of my emotions – day in and day out; to be ultimately responsible for them and empowered to move myself safely through them.
A friend shared some wisdom that a mentor of hers had given: mourn every lost role. This mentor has lived and worked in New York for a long time, and her ritual is this: after every role that she doesn’t land, she puts on her big dark sunglasses, walks the streets of Manhattan, and weeps for a while. I imagine that she doesn’t force this, or require herself to cry buckets of tears for every single role, but I love the vulnerability of this ritual. I imagine it keeps her connected to the passion and love that she brings to her craft. Mourning each role means that she allowed herself to connect to each role at a heart level. I think this is absolutely beautiful. And in adopting this practice myself, I’ve taken one step toward keeping my skin thin, resilient, and ready to be pierced by life. Knowing I can handle it, that I can hold my hand over my heart and just be with my tears, is so incredibly empowering. And it keeps my heart open and clear.
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This quote has been making the rounds on Facebook over the New Year’s weekend, and I have to say it’s stickin’ with me. Something about it is so loving, so light, so permissive of the thing that holds us back from creative wildfire. I offer it here as a meditation:
“I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You’re doing things you’ve never done before, and more importantly, you’re Doing Something. So that’s my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody’s ever made before. Don’t freeze, don’t stop, don’t worry that it ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH, or it isn’t perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life. Whatever it is you’re scared of doing, Do it. Make your mistakes, next year and forever.” – Neil Gaiman
What could you do in your creative process if you weren’t afraid to make mistakes?
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Today seems like a most fitting day to reconnect with all of you, my Maggie’s Nest peeps, and wish you all a tremendously happy 2012 filled with infinite joy, unlimited abundance, and true love in all forms.
2011 was probably the hardest year of my life, and at times it’s been hard to stay in gratitude and appreciation for all that happened. Still, that’s been my mantra. Probably the biggest spiritual lesson I learned last year was that of wanting something different than what I have, without having to hate or disparage what I have. Becoming unhappy with what is and fighting it tooth and nail, is the way I had always thought change had to come about, and since I’m an extremely changeable creature, I spent a lot of time and energy disliking my present moment in a strange sort of loyalty to the future I dreamed of. [click to continue…]
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Rachel Meeks of SmallNotebook.org wrote an e-book last year called Simple Blogging, from which I learned a great deal about the world of professional blogging. One of her hard and fast rules is, let your audience know what to expect. If you’re going to stop blogging, let your audience know that you’re taking a break, and when you’ll be back. And then be sure you’re back by this date.
I broke this rule big time, didn’t I? Gone for a month with narry a word to let you all know what was happening. My apologies! And now I have to break the rule again, because I need to take an indefinite break from blogging for the meantime.
Since college I’ve been nursing pain in my hands, wrists, and forearms from too much computer use – yes folks, ye olde carpal tunnel syndrome. Right about the time I started back up on my daily blog posts, I also dipped my hand into the world of professional freelance writing. Great ideas, both, but they couldn’t have come at a worse time as my carpal tunnel kicked into painfully high gear over the last six weeks. I’m putting my hope in acupuncture treatments and avoidance of all unnecessary computer activity. I contemplated handwriting this blog post and scanning the papers in for your reading pleasure, but let’s just get through this as best we can, shall we?
Other factors contributed to my long absence: two musical concerts which took up a lot of time; a new job and a long commute, with not much access to the internet; and a whole lot of soul-searching as I sit with some big questions about my personal and professional future. Ah, just when I thought I had it figured out! What a silly notion.
I really appreciate all of you who have enjoyed this blog over time, and I hope I can come back to it on a fairly regular basis, but for now please expect posts to be sporadic at best. There’s a ton of past content to click through, and you are welcome to continue leaving your thoughtful and thought-provoking comments – I love the conversations! And thanks, everyone, for understanding.
Bloggers: have you ever had to step back from your blogging commitments? What worked for you?
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Boy, it’s been a while since I’ve checked in about GAPS! The good news is that in a relatively short amount of time, my body has become much happier. After stalling at Stage 2 for what seemed like years, I experienced a bit of a quantum leap and subsequent stages went by quickly. I’ve now finished introducing most Stage 5 foods, and am gearing up for Stage 6 – and there’s no indication that I’ll have any problems at this point, as long as I stick to foods that are legal for those on the full GAPS diet.
This is great news! It means, among other things, that when I forget to pack a lunch I don’t have to starve. This afternoon, halfway through a long rehearsal, I found myself really hungry and without any pre-packed food. After a quick trip to the deli counter at my co-op, I returned with a poached chicken breast and a golden beet & kale salad – featuring raw vegetables, ladies and gentlemen, all of which went down just fine, thank you very much.
The kale was a big step, and the fact that I seem to have digested it without incident means that less-fibrous raw lettuce (a Stage 5 food that I haven’t officially introduced yet) won’t be a problem. This is a very good thing, and just in time for summer; I don’t have to slave over hot soup during the dog days of August – I’ll be able to enjoy cool salads and smoothies again. Ah, smoothies! I’d almost forgotten about you!
And maybe in the next week or two I’ll work up to these absolutely luscious, completely GAPS-legal brownies from Cheeseslave – holla!
So, as I near the end of the introduction phase of GAPS, I can absolutely say that it has been worth it. It has not been easy; that I’ll admit. Although I haven’t blogged much about this side of it, the introduction phase dredged up some significant healing crises for me over the last six weeks: I endured some of the worst depression and anxiety I’ve ever experienced, plus a crazy case of hives across my back and chest that burned and itched for days and days. Even though these were painful experiences, I knew their origins and knew that some powerful healing was taking place through the diet, so there was no question that I would stick with it. As a pleasant side effect, I’ve lost almost 15 pounds and feel more energetic. I recommend the diet highly to anyone who thinks they might benefit from it, and would be glad to provide support for those who are ready to take the plunge themselves. Feel free to comment here, or contact me privately (see the About page).
Full GAPS (and Cheeseslave brownies), here I come!
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Friends, it’s time for some recalibration here at the nest. I realize that my post-a-day ambitions have flown out the window of late, in the midst of some serious soul-searching and “personal earthquakes” as I called them in a recent post. And as I’ve watched myself unable to keep that commitment, it’s given me a lot of time to think (and since I was in Texas with nothing to do during my off-time except think, it really was a lot of time) about why I write this blog and what I’m really here to share with you.
Over the weekend I listened to a podcast with the powerful, dazzling Danielle LaPorte of White Hot Truth; she was talking to Jonathan Fields and a worldwide audience about entrepreneurship and the nuts and bolts of What It Takes. [click to continue…]
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I first published this post in 2007, and one of my friends has reminded me of it incessantly ever since…every time I forget this about myself. It goes along quite nicely with Refusing To Choose, no? As I pack to leave Texas (yes, today!) I stare down at my beloved knitting bag, which has gotten maybe 20 minutes of use in the last six weeks. Sigh. I’m also reminded of how long food has been an ongoing jag for me – it never really goes completely out of circulation.
I just learned this word while reading a magazine article about a local foodie. A jag is apparently an obsession, or as dictionary.com put it, “a period of unrestrained indulgence in an activity; spree; binge.” This seems to describe me quite well – much to the chagrin of many of my loved ones. I get on jags, I collect them, I circulate my jags and give them time to breathe. Like shoes. If I stick with a jag too long, it loses some kind of magic for me, but coming upon a fresh jag (or better, coming back to a pleasurable old jag) keeps things lively. [click to continue…]
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Me! A friend from the blogosphere, Genevieve, awarded me the Versatile Blogger Award last week. Isn’t it pretty?
This reminded me that my mom, also a rockin’ blogger, awarded me the same honor a few months ago, and I forgot to thank her properly. So thanks to both of you lovely women!
The Versatile Blogger Award requires me to share 7 facts about myself, and shout out to 15 bloggers who make my blogosphere a little bit brighter. Are you ready?
1. I got the musical theatre bug in the 9th grade, and I got it BAD. It was my first great passion, and one that stays with me almost 25 (wow…yeah, 25) years later. I love to sing just about anywhere, but most especially in the car while driving. There’s something about speeding along at #$ mph while belting out my favorite MichaelJohn LaChiusa tunes at the top of my lungs.
2. Since it’s musical theatre, I act while singing. I act real hard in the car. Risky at stoplights, but totally worth it.
3. This weekend I had a wonderful conversation with someone I’d known for about six hours. She recently began training in Reiki, and talking with her reconnected me to how much I loved the Reiki training I received several years ago. I spent a year studying and practicing, and eventually earned Reiki Master status…and then, over time, I moved on to other interests and passions, until I had nearly forgotten how much I loved this subtle art. Maybe it’s time to touch into that part of me again.
4. My favorite place in the world is Yosemite National Park. I have fantasies that I’ll move there in my retirement and work as a trail maintenance worker, or maybe leading hikes up to Mirror Lake in the crisp fall mornings.
5. I haven’t worn a pair of shorts in 12 years. True story.
6. I’ve been a spiritual seeker my whole adult life, checking out services and classes in just about every religious tradition. I always wanted to find a spiritual home, but never felt comfortable anywhere, so remained basically a solitary spiritualist. But in the last couple of months I’ve been attending unprogrammed Quaker meetings, and like Goldilocks, it finally feels just right. I might have found my spiritual home.
7. I wasn’t sure I would share #6, but I’m glad I did.
2. Pink Coyote
4. Cheeseslave
8. SouleMama
9. Simple Mom (and its sister sites – see the tabs at the top of the homepage)
10. Tiny Buddha
12. chicken tender
13. Modish
14. Rowdy Kittens
15. Wisdom Heart
There you go! I highly encourage you to spend the next hour clicking through all these blogs and enjoying great content from all across the blogosphere. And don’t forget to check out Genevieve‘s and my mom‘s blogs, too. BlogLove!
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