(A beloved oldie but goodie)

"Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper
that never tires, and a touch that never hurts."

Charles Dickens

My heart sometimes breathes on paper.

It pours stuff out that I didn't even know was
there, way deep down in the bottom of the well,
feelings and colors and sounds and tastes
and wretched memories tumble forth.

I sometimes get embarrassed by the volume
or the pitch or the vulnerable place I put myself -
apparently voluntarily only it doesn't feel like I
am the one doing the volunteering.

"Why did you have to go and do that!" my inner
critic mocks. "You went and made a fool of
yourself again. Why can't you just be satisfied
with being like everyone else?"

Sometimes my inner critic looks remarkably
like my eldest brother. Sometimes my inner
critic looks like Miss Pizarro, my third grade
teacher. Sometimes my inner critic looks
exactly like my reflection in the mirror when
I wake up after an unsatisfying sleep.

I have learned to gently hush the harshness
of my critic because when my heart breathes
on the paper, magic happens. I connect to
the divine. I move effortlessly through history,
space and time by listening to the rhythmic
pulses of my heart, the responding woooosh
of the blood through my veins as it
celebrates, rejoicing "I will keep beating,
yes, I will take care of you, yes – I love you."

Long ago William Woodsworth wrote the words,
"Fill the paper with the breathings of your heart"
and his breathings have now reached across
the ages to your breathings and your heart.

He climbed over and past his critic, through
his failures and successes, celebrated the
rhythmic pulses and responding wooosh to
be a part of your life today. His legacy remains
beyond the words alone.

Maxwell Anderson wrote: "If you practice an art,
be proud of it and make it proud of you. It will fill
your heart. "

Yes, Mr. Anderson, it will fill your heart. And if
we are especially blessed, it will fill the hearts
of others as well.

Pulse by pulse, breath by breath, yes by yes,
word by word.

= + = + = +

Reach Your 2007 Writing Goals with Writer, Speaker,
Success Coach, Actor, Workshop Facilitator and Mother,
Julie Jordan Scott, founder of 5Passions.com.
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I actually wrote this about a week ago, but never posted it.

I like it, especially the stanza with the thumb twisting in it.

+ = + = + = + = +

The dark frightens me

The underbed creatures

And the creepy thing that

Lives in the Crystal Doorknob

Of my Childhood closet….

They all want to grab me

And swallow me in the darkness

Never to be heard from again

The silence petrifies me

I wait to hear… and nothing

Nothing nothingness is all that comes

In response and I grapple with

My human needs, scoffing critic

Takes her thumb and twists it

Silence wants to pummel me

And make me numb again

Without connection, stillborn heart

And she thought she would have to wait until at least next week.

No, no, no, no, no.

This one is hot off the presses:

The Space Between 

I long to touch

That little triangle -

The one formed by

Your collarbone

And the space, between

It is soft

A vulnerable

Sweet pocket

A fingertip full

Fills the space, between

My hand placed

Right there reaches

Down towards your heart

Echoed heartbeat speaks

In the space, between

I breathe deeply

Pulse rhyming life

Sternum swells up, out

Tears fill as I touch

My own space, between

It looked like any other unfortunate night when I was “stuck” at home due to car difficulties. I surrendered to that fact early on and made the choice to create something unique in this night, something far reaching and soulful.

I decided to build another fire in my fireplace tonight.

It was like sending an invitation to the flame sisters of serenity and heat . I sat there for hours, watching the wood burning, tending it and learning from it.

Samuel sat on the floor next to me, writing.  He would occasionally share with me what he was scribing, but most of the time he tended to letters and words, I imagined recreating whatever he was working on in Mrs. McSparron’s kindergarten class.

Katherine and Emma watched “High School Musical” in a different

part of the house.  During commercials Emma climbed onto my lap to look

into the flames, to come to know what they had

to tell her.

“So strong, so beautiful, so dangerous yet we are safe,” she said thoughtfully.

“The fire stays in the fireplace and we are safe,” she added

I nodded and stayed silent.

There was so much to take in, watching and enjoying the heat.

There were several times when I left the fire untended. It looked as if the fire was spent. I

rearranged the embers, gave them space and breath and some special care and viola, life returned. 

Flames, resurrected.

I felt incredibly satisfied in my creative accomplishment as silent, sacred fire tender.

Emma wrote a poem:

How passionate the fire is

The fire is like burning your heart

With Creativity, flow…..

Comforting the feeling

When the warmth

Hits my face

Its almost like my eyes

Can only look at it

Its freaky how something

Ordinary can be

So beautiful so peaceful

So graceful

So calming……..

= + = + = +

It turned into the most fortunate night I have spent in months. I stood at that place of choice and saw the wonder of the circumstances. From there, miracles were forged.

I could have stayed angry at my “misfortune.” Instead, I looked at the evening as a divine appointment. It is like Storm Jameson wrote, “The only way to live is to accept each minute as an unrepeatable miracle, which is exactly what it is: a miracle and unrepeatable.

© 2006

Julie Jordan Scott

You may have wondered where I have been?

Busy, as always - and add to that the NaNoWriMo writing fest. November is National Novel Writing Month and I have been participating, working on a novel with the working title "Seems Perfect to Me."

I have crossed the word count finish line (50,000 words) but I am still writing.

So much so that poems like this are springing from me:

What happens when I write for a long time...

So Poem
 
Is it an accident –

that "Sole" as in only
and "Soul" as in Spirit
and "Sole" as in the part
of my body which most
often connects with the Earth

All sound the same?

= + = + 

When I write a lot, I suddenly  write contemplative poetry...

Craig didn’t show up for “Control Freaks.” I called him and re-called him and messaged him just like he asked and still he elected to not be present.

I could choose to be hurt. Or not. I am choosing not.

The audience, you see, loved the show. There was a lot of laughter and there were several repeat folks in the house who brought friends along for more.

That says a LOT.  From my perch in the booth I watch people watching the show, I gauge responses from their faces, their hands covering their mouths, their elbows in the side of the friend sitting beside them.

For the first time I elected to come around after the show and hang out in the lobby before I started cleaning like a madwoman. I finally decided it was safe to be where the audience was – and so many of these people were friends, it seemed like the right thing to do.

I collected some hugs – especially enjoying Sheila’s comments about Jeremiah, “This is the best work I have seen him do,” and picked up a broom and a dustpan.  The glitter was all over the floor, just like Jen’s-lines-as-Betty say they will be.

I have a morbid fear of making either the Empty Space board or the Jesse’s Place cast and crew angry.

Jen came through and said, “You and Julia are the best clean up crew I have seen, you go about your work so quickly and without complaining.” I don’t really think about it. There is a job that needs to get done so I do it.  “I feel like such a primadonna” she continued. “Here I am hanging out with people and there you are, digging through trash cans and getting everything away.”

“Ahhh, no worries,” I said.  “I just want to be sure we are set for the next show. I have had nightmares about accidentally leaving doors open or people finding trash and complaining about that horrible Julie Jordan Scott.

It was 1:15 a.m. when I was done. I found Jeremiah and Julie outside. “Hey, Miah, do you know what Sheila said to me?”

“No, what?”

“She said this was the best work she has seen you do yet.”

He smiled, shyly, and became the man I met almost exactly a year ago at “Five Women” read through who said the reason he was doing the play was because “I want to find my soul.”

Now he was saying “What I have loved about this part is you allowed me to completely find my character and go way out there with it. I appreciate that,”

I smiled. “Well, as an actor, that is what I like to do – and as a Director, I hope actors will do that, too… and if you did anything horrifying or way off, I would call you on it. Instead, you dove right in and in two weeks had an incredible performance that will allow people to see you in a different way than before.”

We talked a little bit more and I climbed into Betty the Buick and drove away, alone, into the night.

That’s the worst part.

The “alone into the night” part.

I used to be completely ok with it. It was expected.

Now it made my heart hurt. Again. If Craig had showed up, I would not have had the cool conversation with Jeremiah. I would have, instead, rushed through my clean up and gone off with him and probably had a satisfying-on-one-hand time and on the other, an empty, not-up-to-par string of moments that I might just regret.

See, it all works out as it is supposed to work out.

Al Ghazzali wrote, “The heart of humanity has been so made by God that, like a flint, it contains a hidden fire which is evolved by music and harmony and renders each person beside himself or herself with ecstacy.”

Well, I wasn’t exactly ecstatic at this point, but I was content. Empty, lonely, yet content. I was aware. I wasn’t making any foolish choices.

A bottle of wine and some in depth discussion would be incredible in this moment. And the moments allowing myself to simply be empty were a decent second-best.

My hidden fire is still there, waiting – and knowing that since it has been seen and experienced it will be seen and experienced again. It is up to me to create the environment to bring it around again fearlessly.

For the last… oh, twenty-four-hours or so I have been describing myself as “Glad-Sad.”

They seem to be the best words I can think of to wrap around my feelings.

A part of me wants to just sit in the paradox, quietly, and another part of me wants to put my toe in, and cause a ripple, like Sojourner Truth said in her words, “while the water is stirring I will step into the pool."

I was all prepared to start a fire to keep me company on this Sunday morning, a sort of worship service here, alone – while the little ones are at the conventional form of worship, I thought, “I’ll worship here, at home, soulful fire time.” 

Katherine was home with me and she and I were getting things ready when she said, “You better call 1-800-Smoginfo and see if it is a no-burn day.”

I knew yesterday was a no-burn day so I figured we were in the clear.

I figured wrong. There went my fabulous worship idea.

Last night I attended a cast party for “Assassins” though like many theatre cast parties, folks from any show are welcome as the community itself comes like a family.  I mostly sat either on the floor of the living room or on the leather sofa.

Three favorite moments were when Kaitlin exclaimed over my middle-aged coolness because I was drinking Modelo… and then later, she relaxed her head on my shoulder and I got a good cuddle from an unexpected source and then Anthony came along and cuddled to her and it felt like a collective cuddle and finally when several people I respect a lot said they want to work with me, specifically.

Wow.

I needed that.

And in glad-sad tradition, it made my heart ache a bit, which makes me glad, because it means I am still alive and connected.

Yes. I think it is time to steep in the Glad-Sad space. It just feels right.

The closing statement on the instant messaging

conversation was so right on, so powerful-I am

glad I breathed in and “heard” it..

“Keep feeling.” he said. I almost didn’t notice it.

“Keep feeling.”

I think it was just yesterday that I had said I thought hell would be a place where there were no feelings, no emotions – everything tepid, bland, devoid of response.

For the most part, my life is rather blissed-out.  I remember Mike used to say that, sarcastically. “People can’t be so blissed out” was one way of criticizing my cheerful, over-the-top, everyday passion.

Well, maybe people can’t but I was – and for the

most part am.

Why? It is because I choose to keep feeling.

When I hurt – when my heart feels tight and constricted, I keep feeling – and more positive emotion eventually comes when I stay open to whatever feeling needs to flow through me.

It is difficult to express, actually.

Last night I wrote an angry poem. That isn’t very common for me, but I allowed myself to feel. I allowed myself to be open to being grouchy and curmudgeonly.

It is all a part of the continuum, after all. There isn’t separation.

How does one “wordify” bliss? How does one put it into a box marked “passion”?

I wonder. I wonder. I wonder.

Well, first of all – passion isn’t something readily put into a box. It isn’t something you can quantify, just as bliss is something individually tangible and witnessable but containable? Now that is something to consider.

I am reminded of the song from “The Sound of Music” where the Nuns sing, “How do you hold a moon beam in your hand?”

You don’t. Hopefully you wouldn’t feel the need

to anyway.

For now, I am letting go of the need to “wordify” bliss.

The process of translation into words, just isn’t

necessary right now.

In time, perhaps it will be right. For now, I will

just keep feeling.

Most people say things like, “Take care” or “Have a

good one” but no, not this soul. This was someone who understood what I was experiencing. He understood viscerally and took a moment to not be

trite and pat and formulaic.

“Keep feeling.” He said.

Thank you. I will.

I wait for sleep

To engulf me

Pretend I don’t

Miss saying

Goodnight to you

My heart says

“You still can”

But I want to

Kick my heart

I am mad at it

Tomorrow is due

So I really need

To close my eyes

Or maybe instead

I’ll close my heart

I plucked a leaf from your
Father's front yard
To hear the messages
It sends me

There are fissures in its
Fragile skin that has
Survived throughout
The blistering summer

I touch its edge and a tiny
Fragment rests its tired self
and returns to my earth page
I say a prayer

The outer edges retreat first
I turn it over and notice,
there is more green left than
I had noticed before

The leaf cornucopia
Yellow and curled up, its
Horn singing "look at me!"
So I do

I exhale into it and am racing down
A waterslide, laughing with Emma and
Katherine and Sam and the children
on Hawthorne Avenue, my braids flying
behind me as I run the playground in
search of David Been and Mark Ortman
Where did they go?

My soulself gasps for air, giggling.
The leaf's life on the tree, spent
Its life, now through me --
Resurrected

Multiple Personalities, Multiple Murders,
Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Deceit... and
Multiple More....

Come see it all in "Control Freaks" tonight
and tomorrow night at 11 PM at the Empty Space:

THE EMPTY SPACE (late night)
Written by Beth Henley
Directed by Julie Jordan-Scott
 
Welcome to the world of Sister Willard -
 
Imagine going on Jury Duty, like Sister (Katherine Dane), and
coming home to a completely different household.  Your mother
has died, your brother, Carl (Ryan Watts) has gotten married to
someone you have never met before (Jennifer Barber) and then
there is the inheritance to deal with and a stranger
(Jeremiah Lowry) to woo... and manage it all simultaneously.
 
Now imagine what that would be like if you had multiple
personalities – named, strangely, Spaghetti and Pinkie….battling
in your head. What do you suppose might happen?
 
Conspiracy, Lust, Murder, Cheating, Sex and More?
 
Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes and More!
 
“Control Freaks” by Beth Henley is anything but in
control – it is outrageous, upsetting, hilarious, wildly
dysfunctional and evocative.  It will challenge you. It
will embrace you. It will entertain you and make you think. 
This show runs November 10 - 18 late nights.  See you there!
 
Admission is free, however donations are accepted.

The Empty Space is located at 706 Oak Street.
 
More information can be obtained by calling
The Empty Space at 327-PLAY (327-7529).
 
PS - Come early and see "Jesse's Place", the main stage
show at 8 PM!

Last night the cast and crew of “Control Freaks” experienced
a mini “love-in”.

We are getting to the end of the rehearsal process. We are all
bordering on exhaustion. The late nights, the intense focus, the
magnetism of the stuff of life pulling our hearts from
rehearsal – it all has a way of interfering with what needs
to be created together on stage.

I knew we needed to do something differently tonight. I knew
we needed to be super focused and prepared for our work to flow
through each artist, naturally, vividly and with integrity. This
piece is not an easy one by any stretch of the imagination. Each
actor has stretched since the moment they accepted the role.

I gathered everyone into our circle and said, “Tonight we are
going to do something different. Usually we have compliment
circles where everyone gets one compliment. Tonight we are
going to have a compliment circle where each person goes
into the center and gets complimented by everyone.”

My cast called me to go first. I was hesitant, embarrassed. A
bit worried. My inner voice said, “Receive!” so that is exactly
what I did. I allowed the cast and crew to douse me in
verbal love.

One by one the actors and Julia, our stage manager, got into
the center. Every person had tears in their eyes at some point
in the ritual. We spoke about truth and courage and commitment.
We praised presence and experimentation.  Several people spoke
about how proud they were to be a part of this exact collection
of souls at this exact moment of time creating this particular
work of theatre art.

And then we had an incredible rehearsal with the best performances
I have seen yet.

Tonight we have our first “mini-audience” – a couple very well
respected members of the theatre community are coming to watch
us rehearse. I know it will be fine and yet it is nerve wracking
as well, for the actors and for myself.

Somehow the love dousing set the stage for collaborative peace.

Sprinkling the folks you work with in praise, covering your
community with love - it never fails to make whatever is happening
even better. 

Today, notice where you can take a blanket of love and wrap
your friends, your family, your co-workers, your neighbors,
anyone – in the intense energy of witnessing who that person
is and what it is that makes him or her loveable to you. 

Don’t just think, “Oh, this would be a place to wrap a
blanket of love.” – take that blanket and cover that person
with it.  Tuck them into it completely. Look into their eyes
and be sure they heard exactly what you said, that they
received it and breathed it into their being.

Imagine if each person reading this took on this task. Imagine
if you approached someone at exactly the right moment in
time and covered them with the blessing of the truth of
their individual beauty.

You never know what a little love can do. We may never know
the many ways our little ripple of caring witness will spread
across the globe.

Witness. Sprinkle love. Wrap the blanket warmly.
= + = + = + =
Control Freaks opens this Friday night at the Empty Space Theatre
at 11 PM and runs for two weekends on Friday and Saturday Nights.