Part of being an artist - in most of my work in the theatre that means acting or directing or producing or doing other tech work... is allowing oneself to expand beyond what we knew we could do.  That's what is happening with me now, as I prepare to be a part of the (burn the witch) art show at the Empty Space Gallery.

I can feel my blood dancing through my veins, percolating with excitement.

I've done it! I've created something that I thought I couldn't. I have accomplished

something I didn't know how I was going to accomplish.

Sunday I thought, "Oh, forget it. I can't/won't/don't have the time for the visual art

aspect of the (burn the witch) show, I will be satisfied with only performing my poetry.

That will be enough, more than enough."  My heart hurt. I was letting my not knowing

how to get it all done get in the way of the personalized breakthrough that was

waiting to happen.  I wanted it, I didn't know how to get it, so I froze.

How often does this happen in each and every aspect of our lives?

We don't know exactly how to get to our solution so we choose to not do anything.

It is like taking all the possibilities in the world - any inspiration that is literally j

umping up and down, gleefully, wanting to play with us, and putting

it in the garbage disposal.

Since when is inspiration garbage?

Inspiration is breath - the root word for both

"inspiration" and "breath" is "spirit".

In choosing to stop the creative process, I was shutting down anything divine

that was wanting to flow through me. I was standing like a sullen child, stubbornly

with my back against the door, barricading myself from the wonder that

comes from bringing art to life.

And then came the call from Jen Raven, the show curator.

"We want you in the show," she said.  "We want your pictures

in the show."

I answered, "I wasn't sure how... I am having an issue with...

well... I guess I can...."

And with Jen's gentle persistence, I realized her desire for

my involvement was the sprinkling of spirit I needed in order

to follow through with my initial intent.

I slowly stood up straight, took away the self-created-barricade,

and invited inspiration - spirit - breath - to lead the way.

I simply moved and viola, it is done - for better, for worse. I adore

the result - so therefore - it is much, much, much better than I

ever could have imagined.

Bring it on, (burn the witch).....

= + = + = + = + = +

Come see the phenomenal women artists in (burn the witch!)

at the Empty Space Gallery - 2 pm tp 7 pm September 9 and

September 16, 2006.  I will be performing my Curvy Truth

series of poems between 3 and 4 PM on Saturday, September 9.

The Empty Space is located at 706 Oak Street, between Brundage

and California, behind Pizzaville. For questions, call 661.327-PLAY

I got mixed messages about who I was supposed to be when I was a child. I got even more detailed, specific instruction about what I was supposed to do with that being.  I remember my mother insisting that I was supposed to be a writer! "You are going to be a writer!" she would say to me.

In the next breath, she would say, "Don't write anything down, it can be used against you!"

So what was I to do?

Get confused, primarily.

I also find that when I find myself against any sort of barrier, it helps to just let it out, whatever is wanting to speak. This short poem, fresh off the pencil, was inspired by this quote from Anais Nin: "Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it."  In moving my pencil, I was choosing to not remain in a state where the barrier had me in a mind-lock.

Felt so good to move that pencil and unclog myself.  So - here is what I wrote.

"Fresh from the pencil"

write. write. write.
just let the words fall onto the page
without effort just
let them out of your fingers
your arms your shoulders
your heart your soul
write. write. write.

The little one says "NO! Don't document!
Don't let people know the real you
Because then....

They
Won't
Like
YOU!

and
you
will
be
all
a
l
o
n
e

No. No. No.
Write. Write. Write.
Don't be afraid.
Don't
be
what
you
are
not.

Be.
You.
Now.
Love.
Love. Love.
Love. Love. Love.

Usually I blog about my daily life here - today, I decided to share some of my internal life... which blossoms into my profession as a Life and Creativity Coach.

We live in microwave oven-Veruca Salt society that screams, “I want it NOW!” without regard for the precious pace that surrounds us in nature, in our calm breath, in our heartbeat.

Rainer Rilke speaks to each of us when he wrote, “Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart….”

Patience?

What is patience? Certainly not anything the average Joe or Jane has much practice using or experiencing. 

We have a tendency to leap-frog to “Why?” as in “Why is this happening to me?” or “Why can’t I?” or “Why won’t he (or she or they or it)? Rather than slowly steeping in whatever our personalized message is there for us, whatever revelation is waiting to blossom – and will only blossom when given the right environment of a gentle touch, a quiet and sacred curiosity, a non-judgmental span of space to rest, to breathe, to dare to hope.

I know my patience is minimal when it comes to heart matters.

Rilke continues: “Love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language.”

Without concerning yourself with the “how will I’s” (that is tainting yourself with a Veruca Salt approach) consider this question:

What do I truly want?

Consider this question over several days – and don’t limit yourself to a specific category of your life, because that might not be where your heart, where the question, is calling you to focus.

The extra fun part comes now. Follow your inklings. As you continue to ask the question, “What do I truly want?” over the next several days – great times to ask it are before you go to sleep and when you first wake up….. and then release it and allow your heart to be open to whatever is meant to come through to you.

Syncronicity – unexplainable coincidences – will increase.  Step into them.  Experiment within your daily life by playfully trying something out - anything -  without attaching yourself to the outcome, because as Rilke reminds us - “And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now.”

Take a deep breath.

“What do I truly want?”

Release.

Open.

Witness.

Act.

I wrote my “Picnic” blog today, which was different because there was no rehearsal to inspire my words. What I found was…. I got a lot done on my own, working my lines with Katherine last night. It was exceedingly productive.

Excuse me for a moment while I put on my “Co-Producer Hat.”

I just got our first TV booking for “Picnic” which feels good – Channel 17 on September 5.  I enjoy getting “my folks” on TV. Especially when it isn’t me. Actually, to be honest, I enjoy being on TV when I am prepared. Last year, “Five Women”… I still cringe when I think of that no-make-up appearance in my dark pink sweatshirt.

Usually I dress up for TV. That day, ugh.  One of my actors didn’t show up so on short notice, the Director-who-came-as-support is suddenly on the air!

Michelle Weingarden looked great, though. I was glad for that.

And then there was the odd, surprising appearance on the KUZZ morning radio show to promote “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.” I wasn’t expecting to be on it, I was more or less there to supervise Jim Jones and be sure Mithkah Reid and Amy Hall found the place. I didn’t think I would be on the air, too.

But you know how we actors are… put a microphone anywhere remotely close to my face and I am off and babbling………and it ended up coming in handy once Jim started talking. *Shivers again.*

I tried to forget that Jim was there and enjoyed how the hosts were so thrilled to chat it up with the “Bodacious Babes” (their words, not mine) Amy and Mithkah and oh, yeah, Julie is in the room, too, so we may as well talk to her a little bit…

But now, new show, new promotion – whole new season at BCT and I am excited. Filling the theatre with audience members is such an important part of the process and is something we sometimes forget.  “Picnic” is such an incredible story – I want everyone to know about it…..

Now, back to studying those lines….

= + = + = + = + = + = +

"Picnic", witten by William Inge and Directed by Barry Wolcott, won the Pulitzer Prize in 1953. It explores the hopes, fears, excitement and sorrow of following our dreams while we make choices that impact the ones we love. It is playing at Bakersfield Community Theatre beginning September 8 for three weekends. Call 831-8114 for reservations and further details

There have been two times in my life that I have fallen to my knees in grief.

Once was after my daughter, Marlena, died. I am trying to recall – it must have been a little less than a month later, when some of the initial numbness was wearing off. I remember I walked from the kitchen to the living room and I heard something. Again, I can’t remember what. I lifted my arms over my heard and in anguish they fell back to the Earth, taking me down at the same time.

I rested my face on the couch and sobbed.

The second time was a couple years later. I had a dog, he was a golden colored Chow named  Loo. He was a hyper dog to say the least. Impulse control – not something within his fluffy-covered frame.

Katherine was a baby and Loo bit Ken. We felt we had no choice. Loo might bite a child.

I was out walking Katherine one morning as was my standard routine.  I returned to the house and saw Loo’s leash, hanging on the doorknob.  There was no Loo. My heart started racing. Loo had been my faithful companion when Marlena died. 

Ken walked into the room. “Where’s Loo?” I asked. Ken’s face said it all.

I sunk to my knees. Tears rained down my cheeks.

This natural, sinking in utter sadness reminds me of something I read from Maria Callas, something I have remembered when I burst into song in musicals.  Our characters sing when spoken words alone can not express the depth of moment in a particular moment.

Her wisdom helped provide the motivation to start singing the infamous ‘Pineapple Song’ in “Cabaret.”  It is actually called “It Couldn’t Please Me More.”  Some people found that song to be ridiculous.

For Fraulein Schneider, that song is a celebration, an affirmation, a song that builds a bridge between “Herr Schultz thinks I’m a nice neighbor” to “Va Va Va Voom – Herr Schultz really really likes me and… yes… I really really like him…..”

So, we sing.

When we are struck deeply with grief, we fall to our knees – as Rosemary does during her moment of heartbreak in “Picnic.”  Her not-so-quiet desperation, covered in layers and layers of gaiety lies in shattered pieces as she sinks to her knees.

Last night at rehearsal I allowed that to begin sinking into my own consciousness.

I felt the restlessness within myself. I was doing a lot of pacing, using a lot of breath as we struggled with our lines.  I had my hands on my hips a lot, looking to Barry for guidance, listening to his words as he coached me.

I finally heard him allow me to follow my gut and from there, things clicked into place.  He had probably given me that permission long before, but for whatever reason, I hadn’t let it filter through my awareness.

Playwright Beth Henley said, “Some really good things kind of swing both ways and I like to see people that can swing really, really, really sad and horrible and terrible and really, really, really beautiful and funny.”

That’s what I am aiming for with Rosemary. She never thinks before she speaks, she is self-righteous yet breaks her own rules, she knows it all and tells everyone she knows it all. She is vivacious, caring, and bossy…. yet nurturing and kind.

I am so grateful to have the chance to bring her to life. With each day, it gets better-whether I am at rehearsal or not, I walk around with Rosemary by my side, waiting for my attention, awakening me from sleep.

Her mother was lecturing her on stage last night and I heard it, too.

“Rosemary – you know better.”  “Rosemary, who buys the cow when they can get the milk for free?”  “You’ve gone and done it now, Rosemary.”

It is Rosemary who really sees the sun as it sets.  It is Rosemary who makes the new teacher feel at home.  And it is Rosemary who falls to her knees in grief who also ultimately discovers true happiness.

 = + = + = + = + = + = +

"Picnic", written by William Inge and Directed by Barry Wolcott, won the Pulitzer Prize in 1953. It explores the hopes, fears, excitement and sorrow of following our dreams while we make choices that impact the ones we love. It is playing at Bakersfield Community Theatre beginning September 8 for three weekends. Call 831-8114 for reservations and further details

Barry is pushing us with this no script thing. The thing is, it’s working.

I just wish he would let us sit up there on stage and review when we aren’t directly involved with what is going on in that moment. I learn by reading it, not by hearing it read to me… my brain works better if I see it AND hear it.

Tonight we had to do that blooming drunken dance sequence… .the one where I get to be

completely ridiculous over and over and over again. I need to do my research.

#1 – the getting drunk on “moonshine”… quickly and

#2 – dancing while drunk on moonshine.

#3 - And dancing by myself as a drunken woman in the 1950’s. 

I am thinking Saturday night will be the perfect time for my research, now I just have to find some trusted companions.

My “audience” (cast mates not in the scene, mostly Hector and Fred)  enjoyed when I drunkenly danced with Hal…. So I must have been doing something right but I felt like an idiot several times over.

It doesn’t cross the line of my role in “Laugh-In” though, so I suppose.. everything will be ok. Better than ok.

And tomorrow, the end of that scene and Marry Me, Howard… again.

Intermission is going to be tough. I am already warning my cast mates that during intermission I will go into seclusion in order to hold character.

I love this…………… and I am tired!  We have Thursday night off, I need to REALLY

Take it off and just be with my children that night. Maybe go on a REAL picnic.

Maybe feed the ducks, who knows?

“= + = + = + = + = + = +

"Picnic", witten by William Inge and Directed by Barry Wolcott, won the Pulitzer Prize in 1953. It explores the hopes, fears, excitement and sorrow of following our dreams while we make choices that impact the ones we love. It is playing at Bakersfield Community Theatre beginning September 8 for three weekends. Call 831-8114 for reservations and further details

I felt like I was living a Jackson Browne lyric at “Picnic” rehearsal yesterday.

“Here come those tears again, just when I was getting’ over you… just when I was gonna make it through another night, without missing you…. thinking I might just be strong enough after all, when I hear your footsteps, echoing in the hall….”

Mark missed rehearsal today so I got to run my “Marry me, Howard” scene with Barry. I was clicking even without “my Howard.”  Even with Barry’s practically line-by-line blocking instruction I was able to brew tears, real tears… really emotionally responsive tears… as I was left… again.

Later we were blocking a very different, victorious scene… and Mrs. Potts showed Rosemary compassion… deep, heartfelt, real compassion… and I started welling up again. I fanned myself, trying to get it to stop.

Maybe it was Rosemary’s situation, a situation I can relate to completely. Not necessarily the exact situation, but the impact the situation has upon her psyche.

Maybe it is my situation, my life that brought the tears so easily. Maybe it is Sam starting kindergarten, maybe it is Katherine starting High School. Maybe it was feeling like I was ruining Emma’s birthday by being at the theatre for much of the day instead of doting on her.  Maybe it was sheer exhaustion.

I don’t know.

I am reminded of what I say when my life coaching clients use those three words.  “I don’t know.”  “If “I don’t know” wasn’t in your vocabulary, what would you say instead?”

I would say I love what I am doing so much that sometimes it scares me.

I would say I find solace in my art and sometimes that solace excludes others and that makes me sad even though I am exhilarated by it – even the emotion itself.

I would say I am afraid for each show I work on, afraid it will not find an audience, afraid the other actors may evaporate, afraid my performance will be disappointing, afraid I will step on someone’s toes if I don’t keep my big mouth shut, afraid it might be my last time on stage.

Yep. That’s the bottom line.

Sure, I worry about those other things, but the bottom line is because I know what it is to step away for thirty years, I relish each moment I am on stage. It is not just a “oh, gee, this is fun to do a show” thing for me.

It is so much more than that.

Here come those tears again. Thank you, Jackson Browne, for making a guest appearance at rehearsal yesterday.

“= + = + = + = + = + = +

"Picnic", witten by William Inge and Directed by Barry Wolcott, won the Pulitzer Prize in 1953. It explores the hopes, fears, excitement and sorrow of following our dreams while we make choices that impact the ones we love. It is playing at Bakersfield Community Theatre beginning September 8 for three weekends. Call 831-8114 for reservations and further details.