1.      Opening Night, 5 Women Wearing the Same Dress: (January)We had a very large opening night audience – more than 100 people. The night before, on board night, I felt a sense of dread. I worried the show wouldn’t go over well, that people wouldn’t understand it or support what I was attempting to create.  On opening night, the people just kept flooding in. We had a standing ovation – and my heart opened.

2.      Skinny Dipping for the First Time: (February) I had this goal for a long time. It was the middle of the night and Kevan was dying. I was freaking out. A friend invited me to hang out, so I did. I didn’t know right up until taking the leap that I was going to jump into the frigidly cold, incredibly enlivening pool.

3.      Photo Shoot with Leigh Vega (February) This was another divinely coordinated event when I look back at it. I had an idea for my Les Femmes Poetry performance – and I thought as a seed-starter I would like to do a nude-art photo session, but I didn’t know anyone (or trust anyone) to take the photos.  On a whim I posted to the (then public, now fee based) PlanetSark forums an “Anyone interested?” post… and within hours, Leigh wrote back. That single photo session changed my life – when I saw the photos and recognized my own beauty, I would never, ever be the same. 

4.      Les Femmes Artistes, Curvy Truth – Friday Night Audience (March) I have never had such an incredible response to my poetry – I mean, cat calls and whistles? This was extraordinary.  I also had the awareness that if poetry performance didn’t work up, I might have a future in stand-up. Most importantly, people I respect completely gave me kudos.

5.      One Act Festival Opening Night (June) – I love the One Act Festival for so many different reasons. What I really love is having the work of local playwrights come to life and the second is allowing new director’s to try their hand at directing.  This was my first year at the helm and much to my surprise and delight on Opening Night we had a respectable house. The Festival itself turned into the most successful in the 19 year history. It felt exceptional.

6.      Meeting (and then, coming to know) My Muse – September 6 was when the stars aligned and we sat outside the patio of “At the Icehouse”, drinking wine and looking at photos for something close to three hours. I didn’t know it at the time that My Muse would become one of the most significant people in my life.

7.      (burn the witch)  (September) – I almost chickened out of this event on several occasions. Jen Raven called me and said, “We want your art, Julie. We want it in the show.” And with that, I boldly completed my pieces (a compilation of poetry and the nude-photo-art from Leigh’s session) and delivered them to the Empty Space. My poetry session was mind-bogglingly good. Jen later commented, “Julie says ‘Write’ and people who have never written poetry suddenly write poetry.”  Yes, that is what I am all about – creating artists who didn’t know they were artists.  It also felt good to have so many people come specifically to participate in the poetry session. Again, life changing.

8.      “Picnic” closing weekend (September). On Saturday night of closing weekend, one of my cast mates decided to spike our “moonshine”.  I am a method actor - yes – but this was a bit much. I did take several healthy swigs before I toned it down, but I was angry, angry, angry at having to focus on anything other than what I was creating with my emotion – but somehow this anger coupled with changing the intermission music to “Funny Valentine” and a backstage dance with Mark gave way to transcendence so pure that Mark woke up his wife, Stacie, when he got home to share with her what had happened.  I loved playing Rosemary Sydney…. and the only thing that made me sad was that so few people saw this show…. and I am perpetually grateful to those who went out of their way to come support me.

9.      Writing the Sunset (September) I was already on a high after “Picnic” closed, but the Muse and I went to the hillside to photograph and write the sunset and I haven’t been the same ever since.  I didn’t realize for quite some time that some of the photos My Muse was taking were of me.  He hadn’t morphed into “My Muse” at that point, although I knew there was something divine taking place.

10.   Remington Hot Springs (October) The first time I went to Remington Hot Springs there was a full moon – a bright, incandescent moon hovering over the valley. My children still laugh at the note I left them, “Went to watch the sunrise at the Hot Springs”…they say, “Mommy apparently can only watch the sunrise from the Hot Springs” which they didn’t even know existed.  It was my first time to any hotsprings – and once I got used to the Sulfur smell, decided I could live there forever, as long as I had my notebooks, some sustenance, and some friends to keep me company on the journey.

11.  Project Murder and Control Freaks (they sort of run together – September, October, November) Most people think directing two late shows in a row is insane. I actually liked the schedule because I could be with my children until their bedtime and then head to rehearsal. The only problem was getting to sleep once I got home because I was usually so excited about what was taking place. My “Control Freaks” cast still have people complimenting them and I still remember my astonishment at receiving Irises on opening night for “Project: Murder.” (The Muse strikes again.) I met a lot of great people and had a blast.

12.  Standing on the Precipice of 2007 and Knowing… it is going to be exponentially better than even the best of 2006 (December.)  I get this feeling… like Sondheim and Bernstein wrote, “Could it be, yes it could Something's coming, something good…” Ok, 2007 - Bring It On!

I wondered if he meant to hurt me, if he calculatedly chose words and phrases that would tear at my most shallow wounds, the veins more prone to leaking.

It felt that way.

I didn’t know why someone I trusted so much would want to brand me with a hot-iron, scarring labeler like that. Ouch. I felt shock, a jolt of electricity screaming out fire-breath into my profound silence.

I sat on my heels, more alone than ever in the past. I was light years from the fire in front of me and the man beside me.

I had allowed this hurt to brew since the moment I surrendered to his touch. I chose it, I said yes to it so complaining to it, at this point, was moot.

“You don’t know me,” I thought. “You don’t know me,” the blood oozing from my heart, each pulse causing the internal bruises to deepen.

You don’t

Know

Me.

I heard the sobs as if they were rising from the coyotes on the hillside, separate. Distant.

It took several moments to realize they came from me.

He called me from the road, headed West.  He connected to my voice mail, not to me.

Moments later, I dialed into the recording.

I heard his voice, I heard his words, I heard him wanting to say something that wasn’t able to be made into words yet.

I breathed in peace.

An hour or so later, he called again. He wanted to tell me what he was seeing along the path. He wanted to tell me about his dream last night. I was so in the moment I missed asking about what it was he was trying to say, it was something about my voice mail greeting.

I wondered if he knew it was solely for him that my voice mail was created for eleven or so days ago, right before his arrival back in town.

I held the phone in my hand after we said our final words.

I breathed in peace.

Elli asked me, “Who is that guy, anyway, I mean – what is he to you? When did he show up in your life?”

“He showed up in September, and he is My Muse.”

She responded, “I know that is what you call him, but what is he?”

“Language doesn’t have the words yet to describe what he is to me.” I said.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……. “ she said, and then fell silent in understanding.

I breathe in peace.

================================
A Publication of 5Passions.com
http://www.5passions.com
================================
Vol 5. No. 133
December 15, 2006
================================
Please help us grow. If you received this
issue of Daily Passion Activator from a friend
and enjoy its message, please click his link

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================================
CONTENTS:

December 15, 2006 -

Delight to Wisdom

Passion Activator Coaching

Other Ways to Connect
Classes, Audio Experiences, Seminars
and more.....
================================

Dear Passion Activators,

Wow. It is Friday. The middle of
December. I just walked/ran for 20 minutes -
my first day in the "Couch to 5K in 90 Days"
program... which puts me right on target to
run a St. Patrick's Day 5K.

I am excited.

And like many of the really cool stuff I
am up to, I was reminded to do this from
one of my buddies on 43things.com.

If you want to see what happens there, visit
their main page.

If you want to see what I am up to,
specifically, visit this link.

Today's article is especially personal... I
hope you enjoy it and can take its lessons,
integrate them - and live more passionately
as a result.

I have included a feature that was in the
beginning of this ezine... some coaching
questions immediately following the article.

Ponder them as you feel called - -

With Passionate Gratitude,

Julie

=================================

Delight to Wisdom
© 2006
Julie Jordan Scott

“A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.”
Robert Frost

I have started to sink my heart into a recap of 2006: what
I have accomplished, the places where my creativity has
soared and a bit of where I wish I had gone deeper or
accomplished differently.

I am grateful for my contemplative nature right now – I
am in a peaceful, love-filled space where awe is the order
of the day and Judgment is in its box in the closet, only
taken out when appropriate rather than parading  around
the room, cackling and spouting negative verbage while
he waves a tarnished scepter constantly extended and
ready to point directly into my gut from his
crackly, withered hand.

I laughed out loud as I finished creating that
last sentence.

I have quite the relationship with Judgment, I see.

Judgment is like my Inner Critic – who I actually enjoy
hanging out with when appropriate.  Judgment has his place,
it simply isn’t where contemplation and awe and wonder
are allowed to enter the room.

I get to steep with those friends. I get to sip tea and
listen to harmonies and frolic about the woods and kick
my feet in the water with them.  I invite Judgment and
the Critic when I am ready for their special brand
of partnership. 

I steep with Judgment and the Critic, too – but I need
the quiet, soul time with my other friends, first.

Right now, in the beginnings of my year-end review,
they belong in boxes on shelves where they will stay
until I choose to bring them out.

It has been a year very dominated by theatre.  I have
loved and despised theatre this year.  I have never
been luke-warm with it, thankfully, which tells me
the passion is still strong.

It has been a year of loss: death and near-death,
ended relationships and all endings, I have remembered,
also spark new beginnings.

It has been a year to be naked and raw, both metaphorically
and not metaphorically.

It has been a year of self-discovery beyond any I have
experienced in the past. In the last couple weeks, it has
been a time of recommitment to my long held vision for my
professional life.

I find myself most open to treasuring what was good and
right and whole, which is where I am spending my time now.
I am finding, also, that sometimes what started out as
horrific losses or events too painful to put into words
have now become the most imbued with goodness, with
rightness, with wholeness.

I have written more poetry this year than I have in past
years, which says a lot because I tend to be prolific always.
This year is extra special.

This year the Divine delivered My Muse to me. There must
have been a sense that I was ready, after forty four years
of living and breathing, to experience an encounter unlike
any other human encounter.

When I saw the quote at the top of this essay from Robert Frost,
I immediately connected to it, especially in relationship
to my poetry. When I read it again, I saw that it pointed
towards the Poetry-with-Breath-and-a-heartbeat that is
My Muse.

I would agree – “A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom”.
I would agree even more that “Days spent with My Muse begin
in delight and end in wisdom.”

Even more than that, time spent with My Muse multiplies
when I share those times with you.

Delight magnified and multiplied.  Wisdom breathed, pulsed, lived.

The beginning of the very end of an exceptionally sacred year.

= + = +

Passion Activator Coaching: Create a list of "delights" from
your experience of 2006.

What is the wisdom that is unfolding as a result?

What makes this year sacred for you and unique from among
the other years you have lived?

What will you do and who will you aim to be to make
2007 more sacred, more filled with delight, more
open to divine wisdom?

= + = + = +

Julie Jordan Scott is a Writer, Speaker, Success Coach, Actor,
Workshop Facilitator and Mother Extraordinaire who created
the DreamActivation program to ignite your dreams.
Use the Power of DreamWitness, Focus and Intentional
Action to live your wildest dreams now....

===============

Reach Your Writing Goals in 2007 -
Join in the brand new "Writing With
Passion Now" program for writers
from 5Passions. com

Carry my Coaching in Your MP3
player or right on your computer!

=================================

Official Words from 5passions.com

If you would like to use the article written by Julie in
this edition of Daily Passion Activator, permission is granted
as long as the copy remains unchanged and the resource
box is included at the bottom of the article.

===========================================

Daily Passion Activator is brought to you courtesy of:

Julie Jordan Scott
5Passions.com/PassionCrafting
2912 Alta Vista Drive
Bakersfield, CA 93305 USA
661.444.2735

Successful movement
Pick up the foot put it down
Ohhhhhh, that is just right.......

I can not yet

Seem to string

Words together

To say all I am

Feeling – Experiencing

I can make lists of

Hot springs and

Poetry and

Fireside Conversing and

Candles and

Deep Presence and

Playfulness and

Midnight at the Oasis and

Moonrise and

Trees etched in the darkness and

Soul-drenched harmonies

Yet nothing says it

Like my heart tells me

It deserves to be said 

I never know quite what to expect. Perhaps this is what keeps me on my toes.  Maybe it is what I love the most about Musing.

Today My Muse needed to go to the Dump and drop off a load of “stuff” left behind from some one long gone. He knew I enjoyed the ride out there so he invited me to accompany him. Off we drove, together in companionable silence with the occasional smattering of conversation.

I watched the glorious contrast of hillsides, from rows and rows of citrus directly next to vines, withered in the winter, to undomesticated brown California Central Valley grasses. 

I looked into the distance and saw snow on the mountains surrounding us.

I felt at an extreme level of peace, the kind of peace frequently found inside the confines of a car rumbling down the freeway. There is something very connective to me about scanning the horizon in a moving car, even in terrain that others find uninteresting.

I remember as a teen driving through the grasslands of Kansas, finding incredible comfort in the rolling, grass covered plains. I remember in my early twenties driving from Washington, D.C. to Philadelphia, seeing the weeping willows dotting the grassy knolls along the highway and being moved to tears by their beauty.  There were miles of weeping willows, miles of connection with my traveling companion when some would have chosen to see concrete.

I chose to see heaven.

My Muse caught sight of some pomegranates growing on some trees close to the row of Eucalyptus I so enjoyed on a recent night-time jaunt to the same destination.  I wouldn’t know a pomegranate if I held one in my hand so naturally my interest was piqued as he pulled into the dirt road and began collecting sort of apple-esque fruit from the trees.

He sliced into one and handed it to me.

I wasn’t sure quite what to do with this offering, so I took it in my hand and picked out some small segments of the fruit inside.  “How does it taste?” I called to him as he surveyed the grove for a greater harvest.

“Great!” he called.

I popped one into my mouth and the sweetness which leaked out was fine, indeed.

“Mmmmm.” I said, taking another one.  And another one. And another one.

A fruitful fascination was beginning.

I held one tiny sliver in my hand. It looked almost like the garnet stone in the birthstone ring my grandmother gave me many years ago.  I squeezed it to see how it held up to pressure.  Red juice exploded from it, covering my shirt and my glasses with splatters of red juice.

I shrieked out, laughing. “I am a mess! It exploded on me!”

I don’t think my Muse believed me.  I don’t know if he truly believed this was my first pomegranate ever, either – but it was that indeed.

I started to enjoy the splatters on my shirt. I squeezed another sliver, making a beautiful red-purple splatter across my chest. I did it again, in between eating.

I ate and splattered myself, sliver by sliver, until my Muse came back to my side.  “I am making art!” I said, happy as a kindergarten child.

“You look like a car accident victim,” he said.

“I know,” I laughed, indicating my shirt.

“You haven’t even seen your face,” he stated, quietly.

I hadn’t even thought of that. “I don’t think I want to see my face!”

I kept laughing at myself. I remembered several Julia Roberts movies that had almost the identical scene of “poor, out of place Julia character” attempting to figure out which silverware to use at a posh restaurant setting.

I know all about silverware, it is eating a pomegranate that presents a challenge.

Six months ago this might have embarrassed me to admit.

Now, it just makes life that much more intriguing.  Life is filled with new things to try, new explorations, new passion, new zest for life.

I took more slivers and added art to the old and well-worn t-shirt of My Muse. He smiled in response and didn’t tell me to stop.  I squirted the back to match.

I felt more content than I had felt in a long time.

I might have looked like a car accident victim, I might have been within shouting distance of a land-fill but I rarely have I felt so vibrant and alive.

I just never know what to expect.  Thank goodness.

The truck perched on the ledge of the bluff, like a lighthouse looking out over the sea.  I looked down and saw rows of citrus trees with train tracks slicing through them.  We were close to the edge of the valley and dusty hills rose around us in the distance, barely visibly yet present on the blustery night of an almost full moon.

The Muse suggested we go for a brisk walk.

In the cold? Naturally. Where else was there but in the cold?

I was ready as I leaped from the truck still wearing my heels and a skirt, out of practice in bringing a change of clothes whenever I go musing.

We hadn’t had a destination in mind, but somehow the Muse knew I enjoyed the drive out to the county dump. It is a beautiful, peaceful excursion, and the dirt road we found was a treasure.

My long hair was whipped into a frenzy by the wind as we walked into the frigid night air.  I purposefully left my jacket in the truck because I wanted to feel everything that was to be felt, I didn’t want to be shielded and guarded from nature, I wanted to become nature.

The Eucalyptus trees flanked the dirt road majestically, reminding me of their distant cousins at my Dana Point home and the ones lining the road to my dorm at University of the Pacific.

Eucalyptus trees said “adolescence” to me. I grabbed a leaf filled branch and buried my face in its scent. Heaven. I ran my hands through the leaves and inhaled my hands.

I ran back to My Muse who had been musing alone in his own way.

"Do you smell the Eucalyptus on my hands," I asked.  He did.

Is it normal to be out on a dirt road in the Kern County countryside at 1:30 in the morning on a Thursday night? Not for me – but what is normal when one is Musing?

I carried contentment not only in my Eucalyptus scented hands, I carried it deep within my soul. I reveled in its gifts. I was ardent in its expression.

I will carry it with me, this exact moment, for a lifetime.

We drove back into the heart of Bakersfield and a hushed stillness filled the truck, quite a contrast to the ear-filling wind of the bluff. My Muse pulled behind my car and it was time to go our separate ways yet again.

Tears filled my eyes as I prepared to separate myself from him. It always seems to take me a long time to say good-bye, to take that final step away when our time together is limited by both a daunting schedule and most of the time more than 100 miles geographically.

I blinked my tears away, not sure if he saw them or if I imagined his eyes were filled with water, too.  I didn’t look back as I got into my car, my heart subtly aching as I turned the ignition.

We drove close together for several blocks before our final wave as he turned North, away from me.

Each time we say goodbye

At the end of some time together

I feel tears begin to rise to the surface

Because I know

Our time together is that much closer

To ending

haiku written 11/29/06

"How quickly chills rise
When the memory of fire
Burns outside our soul"

I sat in front of the fireplace, my notebook
balanced on my lap.

The sounds of piano and a deep, resonant drum
filled my ears. The fiddle joined in as the fire popped
in deep satisfaction at the attention I was giving it,
or perhaps it was cheering the attention I
was giving to my heart.

I thought I would come up with some brilliant
poetry from being so intentional.

I didn't.

I came up with some notes, some impressions,
some images, and an a-ha that will continue to sear
through me, I imagine, for a long time to come.

This a-ha wasn't born until I typed my notes into the
computer in an email for My Muse, who enjoys hearing
of my journeys along the path he pointed me towards.

The stanza (or poem-lette on its own) goes like this:

"The flames embrace as
Passion swallows the fuel
The fire gives herself over.....

She willingly becomes nothingness....

All so I can know"

The fire became divine in that moment. It became a
true entity, a force of the source.

The fire became a collaborative work of art, one I thought I created for
one purpose but as usual, the richness and meaning
is reaching far beyond my initial intention.

I am still learning from what it offered me, especially
when I allow the quiet of no response to fill me with
wonder.  

I allow its treasures to unfold slowly.

The fire willingly becomes nothingness so that I can
remember how to willingly become nothingness as well.

When your absence was new

I found myself holding

Onto people for dear life

Stood choking while inside I shouted

“Breathe with me!”

I waited for friend’s puzzled faces

To look at mine

The unspoken question

Hovering on their lips…..

I never answered

And now your absence is less new

And I hold less tightly and feel

The loss with less intensity

No stifled yelps upon friends

“Hold me now!”

Because they simply are holding me

Before I ever speak a word or

Begin to ask

They know and reach out….

I receive them

And now you are not absent

(for just a breath)

My heart oozes contentment

I wonder what people

Will see in me

Tomorrow?

This poem isn't polished, but I liked its flavor so far SOOO since Twinkie has been so poetry deprived lately I thought I would send it along.

= + = + = +

I didn’t feel the cotton of his shirt against
My arm

I didn’t feel his breath against
My neck

I didn’t feel him brush away
A random strand of
My hair

I didn’t feel the palm of his hand
Mirror the palm of
My hand

I didn’t feel his skin today
At all

But I felt him

I look

In his eyes

…… So deeply

And in a single

Inhale-moment

I feel my feet

Begin to tumble

Over my head

So I look

Away and

Wonder if

He noticed

Me wobble

And I steady

Myself to

Look into

His Eyes

Again

Seriously. I was cranky and completely out of enthusiasm
for the relationship.  I didn’t even want to BE there anymore.  I
thought, “Maybe this was all some weird joke, you and me.”

And then, last night – I got back into the groove and realized
the love was still there, deeper and deeper and deeper than I
ever could have imagined.

I first felt it when I saw Mark poke his head through the door,
“Julie – hey, I have to go, I am getting called into work.” I found
myself lunging towards the door…

“Wait, wait a second,” I said.  We stepped outside the door and I
said, “Can you believe how amazing they are? They are so good!
This is incredible, I just had no idea it would all come together
like this, I am sooo soooo soooo”

Mark replied, “Julie, people are sick and dying, I need to get to
work now. Stacie will get the kids.”

I turned and laughed at myself and went back to rehearsal.

The young actors that make up the cast of Velveteen Rabbit were
having an incredible time AND doing a great job. I taught them a
fun phrase last night, “structured chaos”. I watched their faces,
foreheads wrinkled in concentration as we worked out what that
meant and how they would create it on stage.

They were all exceptionally focused, even as we were working
with the set for the first time.

I think the moment I realized I was truly still deeply in love
came when I told the kids we were going to learn to scream
really loud without using our faces. For this show, we were
going to use our bodies not our voices to scream.

It doesn’t take much convincing for little children to just go
for it. They are completely unselfconscious. They completely
trust my requests and just do them, unfailingly.

After rehearsal I went to pick up Katherine from Spotlight
Theatre, where she is preparing for January’s production
“High School Musical.”  Emma and I found a space directly
in front of the theatre and within moments, another parent
approached the doors, which brought Roger to the
door to open it for her.

I waved to him, my happiness still bubbling over into my hands.

We exchanged pleasantries and he asked if we wanted to
come inside.  I turned to Emma, “You want to go inside?”
She nodded and began to take her seat belt off.

Roger immediately teased her, which made me even happier.
Emma needs adult people who care about her to tease her. She
really admires and respects Roger, which makes it all the better.

We chatted about our respective rehearsals and I said, “Rehearsal
was great tonight – and you know what I said when it was over?
‘It’s a Miracle!’ referring to the show he is directing, now in the
midst of tech week, that I directed last year,
“Miracle on 34th Street”. 

Michelle came around a corner and we shared in a hug and
some conversation. “What are you doing here?” she asked. 

“Katherine, she is in ‘High School Musical’” I answered.

It is always more than that, though – it is always more than
picking up or dropping off or bringing props or sharing costumes.
It is especially true after my rediscovery last night.

I think my smile would have wrapped around my head if I
didn’t have ears to keep it in place.  I finally remembered – in
my bones – why I am so deeply in love with theatre.

I love theatre because it is a space where artists work, creating
side-by-side.  Theatre is artists doing their absolute, individual
best in hopes of supporting the best of the community.

Individuals collaborating for the greatest good of each one – this
is what happens when a show is done with heart.  This is why I do
cast circles at the beginning and end of rehearsal that some people
don’t like to do, this is why I use warm-ups which may involve the
actors actually learning each others names, not just
their character names.

One of the greatest compliments paid to me by one of my
cast members, who by no accident is now a good friend, was
this: “Julie… she made us love each other. The whole cast, we
just fell in love with each other.”

I found this quote from Thornton Wilder, which says so much, too:

“I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most
immediate way in which a human being can share with another the
sense of what it is to be a human being.”

I find it rather amusing that I rediscovered my love for
theatre – something I questioned whether it was still there or
not – when I was working on a show that involves “becoming
real” – and intending for the audience to be exposed to what
it means to become real, to be authentic, to share in the hopes
and fears and connections between the characters as they are
portrayed on stage.

Ahh, yes, I really do love theatre. Yes.  I am still head over
heels in love with theatre.