It was like an internal nagging

And goodness knows, I can

Not -  I mean can not - stand

Being nagged

It was relentlessly reminding

Me to “Call David” it said

“Call David” and I waved it

Away, getting downright angry

With it, “Leave me alone! I

will call when I want to call!”

The Bzzzzz got the best of me

So I dialed, figuring I would get

Voice Mail and instead, I heard

My voice float up, down, center

“Hi… this is Julie….”

And as we spoke and shared

And you walked and I stood

In my backyard in the sunshine

I breathed, deeply, peacefully

And we disconnected and

The nagging voice came back

More gently this time and said,

“See? It was all for you.”

So I laughed, out loud

And climbed five steps

Into my back door

I first wrote this essay seven years ago – and in the last month or so the quote which inspired it has tapped my shoulder, urging me to remember, to reconnect. 

So I listened.

I smiled at the recollections. I revised. Now, I share with you.

When I was in high school I moved from the safe, comfortable town
I was raised in, to a place completely across the country.

There were hardly two towns as different as
Glen Ridge, New Jersey and Dana Point, California. All my life
I had been raised by my Western Parents that New Jersey was
unfriendly and cold. I was not at all prepared for the arctic
tundra of the tropical beach community that awaited me.
Beautiful in outward appearances, that’s true!

I will never forget my little fifteen year old spirit walking
by the bench in front of school during registration.

"Hi!" I said brightly to the girl on the bench. ("Might she be
someone to sit next to during lunch hour?" I hoped.)

She looked right through me and mumbled a "hi" in return.

I would write very optimistic and newsy letters to my Northeastern friends. "Wow, I can see the beach from Dana Hills!" and "I rode a boogey board for the first time today." and "Did you know our school has a surf team and the teachers wear shorts?"

I would write long letters as I perched on a hillside, overlooking the ocean. I spent many afternoons there after school. The sun kissed my cheeks and the wind hugged my skin, keeping me cool. When it was really clear, I could see Catalina Island.

I was profoundly lonely for human connection, soul connection with skin. I missed what I left behind on the opposite side of the country.  I found that connection through moving my pencil across the page in lengthy, newsy, upbeat letters. We didn’t have the internet back then, instead bulging envelopes traversed the country, crammed with news and photos and love.

Over time I grew to love my new  surroundings. I found a group of friends. I got a great tan, and even occasionally spoke with the trademark Southern California "fer sure". One thing I knew for certain.

I did not want my life to be filled with people who looked
past or through other people. I knew I wanted to be among
people who did not just envelope themselves in beauty.
I wanted to be among people who knew what true beauty
means. How it feels. How it smells.

It is more than twenty years since I graduated from Dana Hills
High School. Most of my classmates have no idea where I am.
I have never attended any of my reunions. I have only kept in
contact with one person.

In my mind's eye, I can see myself, at 15, looking out over
the serene Dana Point Harbor, with the words of Mark Twain
dancing in my waking dreams.

"Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the tradewinds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

In the more than twenty years since I left Dana Point permanently, I have been many places. I have studied at the United Nations. I have interviewed countless PhD's and scholars. I have appeared on TV and radio, in a film documentary and been in countless theatre productions.  I have been published extensively. I have had two babies die. I have had three babies live. I raised a young woman who later left our family, and now is sort of, kind of, around again. I have had a marriage fail.  I have performed my own poetry. I have posed for raw, ethereal photo shoots.

I have lost too many friends to cancer. I have watched my brother as he is dying.  I have witnessed my parents come back to life and romance in their retirement.

I have touched lives in ways only I could. I have discovered
that within the darkest depths of despair, joy can be found.

And now, I am reenergized about my coaching career, stepping out boldly in new ways with my creativity.

I am once again sailing away from my safe harbor. The sun is kissing my cheeks. The wind is hugging me. The tradewinds are pushing me, filling my sails. I am exploring. I am dreaming. I am discovering.

In Julie-esque fashion, I am coming alongside others, encouraging them as they throw off their bowlines. As they sail away from their safe, comfy harbors.

Is the sun kissing your cheeks? Is the wind hugging your skin?

Explore! Dream! Discover!

larger view

Emma noticed something had changed, something was not right.

She whispered to me, “Did she? Did she?”

I nodded my head and turned my focus back to the stage where emotions were rising.  I heard Emma gulp and felt her energy begin to change.

She started to cry. Not quiet, all to her self crying, but weeping crying. It was crying that both the audience members and the actors could tune into – an emotional homing device of sorts.

I watched as the women on stage breathed in Emma’s tears and mingled them with their own.  I felt my own heart begin to tug and my own tears begin to flow. I found myself leaping into M’Lynn’s position as Kimber Peaker-Lozano brought the quintessential loving mother to life on stage.

I witnessed Annelle (Chelsea Brewer) apologize the best she could and I leaped into her heart and felt her shame and sadness erupt in me.

I held onto my heart as I saw Truvy (Althea Williams) make it right, knowing nothing would be right again.

I laughed within my tears as I saw Clairee (Annette Bridgeman) use Ouiser (Jan Hefner) as a diversion, so that our tears would be silenced and we would remember to laugh even for just a moment.

And then we all cried some more.

We didn’t see Shelby (Amy Hall) on stage again until curtain call.

I was reminded of one of the reasons live theatre is so sacred. The audience and the actors literally blend their heart, their breath, their souls – and the result is literally life changing.

Emma will remember this production forever. I can hear her future voice saying “Remember when we saw Steel Magnolias and I couldn’t stop crying?”

We walked backstage after the show – to that precious inner sanctum – to congratulate the cast and crew.  We not only have the privilege of being audience members, we are also friends of the artists on-stage and backstage.

I poked my head in one dressing room and I heard Chelsea saying something like, “yeah, well in ‘Five Women’ every night there was a place where at least three of us were supposed to be crying and every night, on cue, there would be….oh, Julie! I was just telling how you would… Emma… Emma…. You were amazing…” and one by one Emma received hugs and admiration from the artists.

“We want you in our audience every night, Emma.” 

“Why, because I was crying?” and as she said it she started crying again. “I couldn’t help it.. I mean… she… she… she….”

I looked over at Annette, who I shared the stage with in Les Femmes Artistes at Spotlight Theatre in March, 2006.  I said, “The emotions… oh, the emotions… were incredible.”  The smile I felt in our eye contact is one I will treasure forever, that “I see your soul and I know it” eye contact.

Sheila McClure worked magic to bring forth this incredible work of art. Her team, including Jeremiah Lowry and Michelle Weingarden, Carla Stanley, Kathy Koslowski and Vicki Jameson, all deserve kudos.

They created soulfulness each audience member could breathe into and connect with their whole heart, their whole mind, their entire experience.

 ====

Steel Magnolias plays at Bakersfield Community Theatre Fridays and Saturdays at 8 PM from February 16 through March 3.  Sunday matinees at 2 PM. BCT is located at 2400 South Chester, just north of Wilson Rd.

Tickets are $10/$8 for Seniors, Students and Active Military

I am producing “Steel Magnolias” which opens this weekend at BCT. It is a great show – incredible show – a cast that knocks my socks off. And tonight, tonight, tonight guess who got to run rehearsal?!

Me. Yay! Not only has it been too long since I have been on stage, it has obviously been too long since I have Directed, too.

There were new Techs there – it is tech week, afterall, and I warned everyone present that we would be meeting at 7:45 to “Circle Up”… mostly so everyone could officially meet everyone else. As a Tech from time-to-time myself, I can’t stand when people don’t know me. I need to have that touchy-feeling- thing-to-and-from-everyone.

What I wasn’t expecting was for the cast to be so happy to circle up.

“Energy circle!”

And

“I am so glad we are doing a circle”

And

“Oh, yeah, Julie always circles.”

I do.

I can’t help myself.

I have gotten plenty of grief from people about “Circling” in the past, some people don’t like to circle. I don’t get it, clearly – so tonight we focused on our intent for rehearsal.  We squeezed hands. We shared names. We breathed deeply and released. We touched each other.

I almost thought one person was going to balk.

She didn’t. She showed up, put her hands together with the woman next to her.

During our “intermission” break I said, “hey, if I was around to lead rehearsal more, I would even subject you to my ‘I know my lines’ meditation.”…. this is where I look knowingly mysterious.  “Because…” more mystery… “It works.”

The weirdest thing just happened.

I felt a kick, from inside, like when my babies would kick me from the inside.

I must be pregnant with something. I think it might be ‘pregnant with connection’… or something like that.

But back to Steel Magnolias, it is going to be great. Truly amazing.  And I am grateful I had the chance to play Stage Manager tonight because of oddities in schedules.  Tomorrow I will go back to just-being-producer… which includes providing whatever-the-heck the Director and Crew need from me.

Sounds just right.

In between the notes
     The singer sings, the the notes
The band plays I hear it
     The traces, the echoes, the shadow of
The real music I came to hear

The sound of your voice
     The reflection of your image
Dances in the space on my skin on
     My neck where
My pulse, my voice, my breath
     Rises from deep within
And I hear it again
     The real music I came to hear

In between the senses
    I feel more than I hear
       I know more than I let on
And I choose to remember
    The traces of possibility you
        Left on my tongue and lips
Of the real music I came to hear

So - I wait.
And pretend not to wait.
And everything I bump into
Brings you into the forefront
Of my consciousness

It reminds me of
Knocking on the door
To a house you know is full
But no one answers the vibration
Rippling its way into the air

Listen to its echo, its insistance
Is anyone home?! I hear you inside
I can feel your feet moving
through the resonance on the floor
Don't you dare tell me you
can't hear it

The Rapppp Rappp a Tattt Knock Knock
That is MY Rapppp Rappp a Tattt Knock Knock

So - I wait
And I pretend not to wait