The clown nose.
The world’s smallest mask.
When donned, it can bring magic to the courageous soul underneath.
If you give yourself to it.
Let it lead the way.
Soften your brain. Let your eyes open big, your eyebrows go up.
Let your tongue be heavy in your mouth.
Begin to look for sparkly things as you inhale and reach to find your wonder, just above your head.
Oh, there you are.
There you are.
Hello, old friend.
I am a recovering perfectionist.
(I write of this often.)
One of the most helpful tools I have learned to use to work with this -ism is the following mantra:
“Done is better than perfect.”
― Sheryl Sandberg, Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead
Boy, has this helped me make great strides.
Before this quote found its way into my psyche, I would procrastinate out the wazoo, or sit on and spin out over a project, desperate for it to be “complete” enough to put in the public eye.
Problem was, nothing was ever “good enough” to be complete.
It was hard at first, but by now, I am much better at just getting it done and out there. Through practice, I am learning the value of getting it done and letting it go.
I can always make changes and improve later.
Better done than perfect. Because perfect never comes.
This city can swallow you whole
Be alert, my child
Stay connected to those who know you well
To those you love, who love you
It is easy to get lost in the masses
To hid ein the comfort of strangers
To drift, and drift, and drift
Until one day you wake up
And twenty years have passed
And you have no idea
What happened
To your dreams
“Why darling, it’s perfectly natural, it happens to everyone now and then,” she said in a soothing tone, hoping to diffuse the tension that had settled into the folds of the bedsheets that now lay crumpled across their naked bodies.
It took her a few moments to realize that he wasn’t turned away from her in shame, but that he’d actually fallen asleep and was looking annoyingly peaceful.
It was then that she realized that the tension she’d felt was all her own.
Sometimes I struggle with life
With living it, that is
I love it, this life
But it’s hard sometimes
And when I am in the struggle
When I feel like life is against me
I forget I’m not alone in it
Everyone’s lives look so easy compared to mine
And I feel so weary
But eventually, the struggle passes
And I return to myself again
Everything is not rainbows and moonbeams
But I can feel the presence of others again
And I no longer feel so…
On my own against the world
And that makes all the difference
Inspired by The Daily Post Archived Daily Word Prompt: struggle
Gonna rebuild this heart of mine
Strip it down to the studs
Clear out the old debris
Old timber and waste I no longer need
I’ll live with it bare for awhile
Get a feel for its original structure
And listen for what new wants to be built
Find out where to put the walls
And where to leave open space
I’ll paint with bright colors
And decorate each chamber how I feel it
And when the renovation is complete
I’ll invite all my soul parts and my lost little girls
To choose a room and m make themselves at home
I just discovered that I love directing!
This is after a lifelong love of acting.
I had never even considered directing. Always thought I didn’t have the brain for it.
(And who knows, maybe I don’t.)
But a fellow actress recently asked me to direct her in a one woman monologue play, and though I hesitated at first, something in me wanted to.
That part was almost drowned out by the voices that said what was I thinking? Who am I? I’ve no formal experience directing.
(Never mind decades of being directed, studying theatre and acting. Never mind helping fellow actors countless times stage and work on their auditions over those decades.)
But somewhere in the midst of the cacophony of negative voices, I felt a curiosity, an interest in the play, an interest in the actress who asked.
And so I said yes.
And it turns out, I am loving it.
Now, I have no intention of stopping acting.
But.
I want to continue exploring this new perspective within acting alongside my acting pursuits.
I want to do more directing!
Who knew?
(I’m so glad I listened to that quiet little voice.)
Every day I choose to stay is a triumph
Life is not a given
I choose to live
To do my best
To love as much as I can
To reach for more
I fumble, I fall, I fail
I get up and try again
Every day, a triumph
Every time I start a new project, I am terrified I will not be able to do it.
Every. Single. Time.
This terror is not my initial response. My first response is elation. Excitement. Passion. Thrill.
This is a delightful and short-lived phase of my process. Much sooner than I would like, the excitement and celebration morphs into abject doubt and fear.
Suddenly, I am overwhelmed by the work ahead of me. My mind makes it all seem like an enormous mountain that I am at the base of, seemingly without any equipment or wherewithal of how to surmount it. It is like some weird fog of “forgetting” comes over me and seduces me into believing that:
I am grateful to have a partner in life, my husband, who very fortunately has borne witness to my process over and over again. (He was actually the first person to point it out to me.)
While his reminder to me that this is “just a part of my process” does not in any way change my process, it does allow me to find somewhere within the knowing that “this too shall pass.” The knowing that this is not the end of my process. That this is actually letting me know, in a way, that I am on my way. As in, the fear and doubt kick in because I am entering into my creative process. It is a sign I am doing what I love.
That knowing makes moving through that phase a bit easier. Then I can recall, if need be, that I have felt this doubt and fear every time in the past. I can reference back and remember that every time in the past, I not only survived, but that I even succeeded in accomplishing what I took on in the end.
Awareness is everything, they say. That I have found to be true. If only awareness erased the anxiety! But I have found that only action alleviates the anxiety (to some degree.) I am lucky to have learned that as well.
My antidote to the fear and doubt is this: when it sets in, as it always will, I make sure to start the work right away. I begin the work NO MATTER WHAT, and as soon as possible, and I continue to work at it daily. I do it in chunks, and in this way, I navigate the treacherous waters of the part of me that wants to interfere with my creative endeavors.
The part of me that Steven Pressfield writes about valiantly fighting. If you are not familiar with his work, do yourself a favor and check him out. His books have been invaluable to me in my learning how to work with myself and my resistance.
And so I prevail. Not in spite of the resistance, but alongside it, through it, with it.
I am writing this as a reminder to myself as I have just begun a new project and after being very excited about it for a day or two, just about an hour ago, I got really scared and filled with doubt.
What the hell was I thinking? I cannot do THAT! I am not equipped. I cannot handle it. Reasons flood my mind as to why it was a bad idea. Dread filled my gut.
So what did I do? I took two actions in support of the project before I could fall into paralysis or start dreaming up ways to get myself out of the commitment. And I am writing this. And I am feeling somewhat better.
The jitters and the fear are still there, just waiting to take over. But for today, I have held them at bay and given more attention to my work. And somewhere in the mix I feel inside, there is a knowing.
After all, this is all just a part of my process. I am right where I supposed be.
The man who moved a mountain was the one who began carrying away small stones.
Ancient Chinese Proverb
Inspired by The Daily Post Word Prompt June 10, 2016: mountain
As I wrote the other day, I am currently in a five week-long physical theatre intensive, including clown and commedia.
One week in, and I am joyfully astonished (and exhausted.) My face and sides ache from laughing. My mind has been blown repeatedly by the beauty of the other souls that daily become more and more alive as the class progresses. My heart has expanded and feels raw and tender and open in new ways. Many tears have fallen, from joy and wonder, from deep wells of sadness that come as old rusty parts of my soul are freed from their societal binds.
You see, clown is about exploring the four year-old inside. The little one you were before socialization caused you to “grow up” and be serious.
Before the body forgets to play and becomes blocked by The Block of Cool (as in, gotta be cool, man — gotta suppress this or that to be one of the cool kids.) The Block of Nice (Gotta be a good girl/boy if you want anyone to like you.) The Block of Polite (Gotta be polite to fit in and be a part of society.) The Block of Being Appropriate (Gotta do what everyone else is doing no matter what or you’ll stand out and the bullies will see you or you will be humiliated.)
So as we’ve been playing this week, we’ve been getting up underneath our adult skin suits and back into the wonder, the joy, the big, messy fun of acting with enthusiasm, leading with our hope, and the desire to have fun and make others laugh with us, at us.
It is an honor – a gift – to see someone’s unadulterated humanness. To really see who each person is underneath all the tricks we’ve learned to protect ourselves.
I am blown away by the exquisite beauty and brilliance of each person in the class.
Down the street, one of the buildings has some flowers blooming on part of it’s front wall. There’s a beautiful cascade of what looks like lilac that I was drawn to the first day during lunch break. What I did not notice then is that alongside the lilac are morning glories. (They were not blooming that first day.)
But the second day of class, I walked by the storefront again, and there they were, in all their, well, glory!
I was floored and just stopped and stared in wonder.
Then the next day, they were gone! (Upon closer inspection, they were there, but had withdrawn back into their tightly wrapped buds.)
The next day, half were out again, the others were in different states of the bloom process.
The flowers’ journey seems to mirror our class. We are all at our own different states of “bloom” in our work of rediscovering our unsocialized selves. We all have started the class in different places, and we will end in different places. But along the way, we are all blooming at different times. And sometimes, we are each beginning to show ourselves out in full bloom. It is astonishing to witness.
I cannot wait to see what will bloom next week.
Beyond the Skinny Branches 