Timelessness of Expression

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Most of us go through our lives striving for our hopes and dreams of youth. Along the way we are met with much challenge and adversity. Even in joy we remember the road traveled. We are of the understanding that what lies ahead will offer much of the same but perhaps our perspective widens. We grow skillful in our countenance, for it is in struggle where we are met with our most noble and triumphant self.

In my own journey, I have made witness to the pains of humanity, the debilitating woes of disappointment and the reassurance that each day brings a new light. Until then, in these moments of reflection, I sit beneath a lingering cloud that haunts my hours this day.

There are times where I feel that I am living the centuries before my own. Perhaps this what they speak of, when characterizing as an 'old soul'.

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There is a darkness that looms in the air as a heavy weighted blanket.

A dense thickening that surrounds and suffocates.

Trees fallen barren arching their knotted branches

toward the sky in hopes of sunlight.

If ever was a time when days felt long and sullen,

a heart that breaks to no end.

Bastards, of childless unions like a phantom echo

of a life that was to be,

now void of the simplest pleasures.

A torn chasm into which I fall deeper,

losing my spirit in a darkening slumber.

Without purpose or reason,

I am lost in memories that have not yet occurred

but they bewitch me no less.

Is there a day like any other,

where the premonitions of a young girl may find their expression?

The scars running endlessly

cutting without discretion into the flesh that grows cold.

I await an escape from this treacherous cage

that thwarts my wings to fly.

Sleepwalk

There is nothing more divine than the linger of a touch

that walks the line between the head and heart.

The valleys under curves and

edges softened in the glow of dusk

caught in the shadows that shelter.

A breath that slows,

carefully finding it’s way from the lips

Long enough to return whole.

Tender

Fragile

Determined

Forgiving

Vulnerable.

Open the soul,

Close the mind

Free the moment

to find it’s fire.

Let loose the angels and devils to play.

Where are we going, when we are chained to circles?

Running into the ground

our feet repeating each turn.

Round and round,

in what seems like a flurry.

Rushing to no where

as if the end game is in sight.

Life’s intoxicating journey

like a seduction of the senses

that makes us mad in their obsessions.

Our hands bound.

Our feet cursed.

Our inner voices deafening

when struggling to make weak

our spirits.

Fight on,

accept the moment

and then move forward.

There is no love in the embrace of that which holds us back.

Pulling

Seasons, glorious turnings of spring to summer,

Falling into autumn with the blister of winter at it’s heels.

There are days that lay heavy on the soul.

Could there have been other roads?

The heart chooses the best it can

but we are delusional in our grasp of control.

Like a bottle floating in an open ocean, we are subject to swells

and never ending, always bending currents

pulling us onward.

Sometimes backwards.

Until we reach the shore.

Inside of us, a mirror that reflects the thoughts

The doubts,

The hopes,

The prayers

And the resolves.

Magnifying their presence

We can either look into those reflections

Or shine them outward.

A world of emotion hidden behind,

Keeping our secrets close.

Keeping our journey silent.

To look around in the world

And see below the surface.

To see the seasons of others,

To find them drifting in the tides.

We are together but separate in our struggles

Yet from above, we are closer than we think.

A universal pain that reverberates from within,

Yet we tell our stories as if there is no heartache

No loss

No regrets

No longings

Humanity is found in the scars,

It is found in the battles won

But also in the surviving triumph of loss.

Our fragility,

Our honesty

Our most vulnerable telling of life’s journey

Is where our hearts truly come alive.

My pain I share with you,

So that you may know that we are not alone,

In our drifting.

I will watch the stars above us,

Along side of you.

The water will carry us at its will

But we will be together.

Always.

Dedicated to my husband, the best partner in life that I could have ever hoped for.

A Very Special Wedding in New York

I had the honor of photographing a beautiful wedding in New York last weekend. Edward and John officially (and legally) tied the knot, showing that love and unity cannot be limited by one definition. 

Wishing them and all whom enter the vows of marriage, years of happiness and cherished memories!

 

 

Despite the Odds: Wisdom from my potted plant.

INSPIRATION : "a divine influence or action on a person believed to qualify him or her to receive and communicate sacred revelation"




I found inspiration today in a household plant. While that expresses a comical notion, that fact I can even possess 'living' household plants is comical in it's own right. I was once a gal with a black thumb. Moving to Manhattan, a city void of nature outside of Central Park, develops the horticulturalist in anybody...even me.

I have a lovely small potted palm. Ok, so yes, I picked about the easiest of varieties to maintain. But I tend to them and love them, especially now as I overlook nothing but the concrete of the city below. Yet what's more, is that somehow in my care my little plant sprouted two young offspring. Like a proud Momma, I've watched them from their very first sprouting. One seemed to jut out from the soil in a bit of a hurry of it's own, as if it suddenly just one day it appeared out of nowhere. The other appeared to be a weakly stunted seedling that barely punctuated the dirt. It reached up and through with the smallest leaf. I thought for sure it wouldn't survive. Nonetheless, I watered them, spoke to them...even kissed them from time to time. In our family, there are no children yet except for these two small seedlings struggling to survive their youth.

I've watched for many months as they grew each at their own pace. The smaller one, seemed to creep up and up but not without succumbing to the weight of the soil pressing down into it. I feared it could not bear the challenge, but it's once weak looking leaves now surprise me with each passing day. They have slowly grown stronger, greener.

Meanwhile the other that was so eager to enter the world and stand tall seemed to be growing weaker. It's stalk underdeveloped and thin. It's leaves wilting no matter how diligently I watered and fed it. It grew tall no doubt, but now could barely support it's own weight.

Today I looked to find it nearly fallen over. It's leaves, even those recently sprouted cracked and laid lifeless. My little underling, the one I thought for certain would surely die within weeks of it's peering through the surface was vibrantly green and beginning to flourish.

I found it heartbreaking and immediately began to dig up my dying seedling. While doing so I realized how shallow it had been planted. As I carefully removed it, I saw that some of it's roots were exposed to air and damaged. Despite it's rapid first growth, full of promise and fervor, it was now was falling incredibly short. It had always been too close to the surface. It did not have to struggle to break through like it's sibling. It's roots were not safely buried, leaving it vulnerable. It's stem remained juvenile and void of sound structure. Eventually without the need to grow strong in order to survive from the very start, it was unprepared to bear it's own weight.

In hopes of second chances, I've buried it's fragile roots and stem deeper into the ground. Only time will tell how it may weather it's new existence. My hope is that it is reversible as only death comes with permanence. In the meantime, I pull inspiration from little sprouted palm, who worked so hard to grow despite a mound of dirt and weight that surrounded it. It defied even my expectations.

In life, many will grow sullen in despair when they feel burdened by disappointments, by setbacks and obstacles. I, myself, sometimes wonder why certain journeys can be shrouded in more unforeseen difficulties than others. Some may have even weathered storms that I, thankfully, have never even known myself. All of our struggles are unique, but none are less valid then any others. Then one day you go through your normal routine to simply water a plant and you realize God speaks to you in all the ways he can. Sometimes it comes in unexpected moments, that can seem rather silly... but in reality become profoundly impacting and incredibly loud.


I'm thankful for those moments.

Can't We Just All Get Along?

I feel like it was way back in the mid-90's that the slogan 'Can't we all just get along' became hot topic for laminated pins and bumper stickers. Sadly though, I am reminded daily that somehow, the message never stuck.

For the past few days I've been thinking about an incident that occurred on an ordinary day in the city. I've been meaning to write about it, but of course became momentarily distracted by work and other obligations. That is until today when a gentleman blurted out, as he nearly ran into me on the sidewalk, "Get the f---- out of my way". Yep, yeah, that's New York City for you. I was jolted back to my memory of the other day and my need to write about it.

I happend to go into a CVS Pharmacy Drugstore. It was 5 o'clock on a Monday night. The usually post work crowd filled the place, which is generally already understaffed for even non-peak hours. I approached the check out and discerned two lines that had formed. One was for self checkout at the various kiosks and the other was for the cashier desk. As I continued to wait, I noticed a woman standing nearby jumped the line (knowingly or perhaps unknowingly) and proceeded to the checkout cashier. Immediately the rightful next customer approached her and in my opinion rather politely, as far as New Yorkers are concerned, pointed out that there was in fact a long line of customers already waiting. The line jumper neither acknowledge the woman nor said "I'm sorry, my mistake". The latter leads me to believe that she knew and simply did not care that there was a line.

To my disappointment the employee that had witnessed this, did nothing to correct the situation or point out to the customer that she skipped ahead of the existing line. To make matters worse and escalate to a place that is neither necessary nor warranted- not to mention easily corrected if the employee had not played 'indifferent', another gentleman jump in and quickly began yelling.  Ironically, he did not yell at the woman who had obviously jumped ahead, but rather to the woman that had spoken up and said something.  He began antagonizing her, spouted 'what makes you so self righteous? There's no sign that says that there's one line'. Like most New Yorkers she chose to not engage or respond to his slurs. She was an older woman and perhaps after years of living in the city you either grow tolerant or simply lose the energy to fights these types of daily battles.  He called her rude and his putrid anger seemed to be even more fueled by her ambivalence.  As I watched, I was astonished that neither the employee or store manager, that stood only a few feet away, would allow such an outburst to occur. I couldn't help myself but to point out to the cashier, stating 'You should really say something here'. She of course gave me a growled look that said 'Don't tell me what to do'. Everyone grew increasingly uncomfortable as his rant continued well beyond needed. Finally, after biting my tongue for long enough... I chimed in. In the most delicate, non emotional way I could, I agreed that yes, while there was not a sign that spelled out 'one line' one line seemed to have formed on an honor system- first come, first serve.  I also pointed out the fact, verbally, that it is up to the employees to instruct customers as to how they are handling the crowds and serving them fairly.  His immediate response was 'one line is how they bring cows to the slaughter' after which he began repeating himself again about there being no sign.  However it did seem as though, the moment I mentioned the 'honor system' he wasn't sure how to respond to that. All he could say loudly was, 'I hear you'. After which point, he himself jumped ahead to that very same cashier, and again in front of everyone already waiting in line, to check out.

I was happy that I spoke up, but also really troubled that the state of our world has grown so impatient, so intolerant, so self-entitled.  I don't recall there being this much anger in LA. Perhaps the sunny weather and tepid climate makes people a little calmer. There are 1.8 million people, according to census bureau, living on the island of Manhattan. That's a lot of friggin' people in a small congested area. Everyday is operated at a breakneck pace, bumping into people, running around, trying to survive in a city that's over populated and overpriced.

I have hope for New York and it's residents. They always say 'be the change you want to see happen'. It's so easy to fall into that routine, where you keep your head down, worry only about yourself and those immediately around you in your life and become indifferent to everything and everyone else. Life is tough, especially during these times. Many are struggling in all forms, so I'm not surprise the temperament has changed a bit. Even, I myself, have days where I find myself utterly impatient with slow moving tourists or waiting a little longer than usual for the train.

It is moments like those in CVS or today on a busy city street that remind me that we MUST always try to be courteous to one another. Be THOUGHTFUL, PATIENT. KIND. There's a whole Psalm in the bible about that. Love isn't only for husbands or wives or families...it has to be for every single one of us which is not always an easy task. Living in New York, has been an eye opening sociological experiment. I feel as though it's a microcosm of the world, which is both fascinating and scary all at the same time. My goal is to smile at as many people as I can and watch how many odd glances I get back.... Oh, yeah, New Yorkers, avoid eye contact and smiling at them is like walking around in an alien costume. You should try it sometime...it's rather entertaining.

Navigating the Tightrope

If you're anything like me, you have a tightrope. One that stretches between the inner self and the outer presentation. Life is about finding the sweet spot that resides in balance between those two ends. Funny enough the middle is the most unstable place on a tightrope and the risk of falling is that much greater.

So here we are, starting on one side is the inner self. 35 years of living on this Earth, numerous hours spent soul searching over too many $4 lattes, notebooks scribbled with thoughts, memories, creative writings and inspirations. What did I find? Well, I'm still looking I suppose, but I did discover something. More like someplace.  Deep inside there's a rock in the middle of a forest clearing. On it sits a young girl, my mind's eye of myself as a child. There is a melancholy to the air like a stale mustiness. When I was in college, I was led on a guided meditation by an acting coach... this was the first time I discovered this place. I discovered the home of my inner child. I also discovered she has profound sadness in her eyes. The 'Why' is still left to be discovered.

Throughout my career as an actor I've often been told that I look like a 'wounded bird' in my headshots. Never mind the countless time spent coifing my hair or selecting the perfect outfit. Never mind the growing resume attached on back that always reminds me to be proud when I feeling insecure. Never mind any of it... I simply convey, 'help me I have a broken wing' apparently. After my college discovery of this pseudo special place inside me, this rock and the solitary mini-me I'm not at all that surprised. The eyes always speak the truth when the mouth tends to try to lie.

I've always wondered what is was. Where did this gravitas come from? Had it been imprinted on the DNA like a footprint of the bloodline before me? I think back upon my childhood with relative fondness. I was loved unconditionally and rarely did without despite our limited financial means. My childhood was not nearly as difficult as that of perhaps other members of my family. The greatest pain from my past was being bullied by classmates. (Although who isn't at some point) However even at an early age, I was a people pleaser. I often gave my abusers my school supplies in hopes of winning their friendship. They publicly shamed me and I so badly needed them to like and accept me. So perhaps I was always a bit of a 'wounded bird'. The more broken you appear, the greater the chance to get picked on. Darwinism at it's finest in the American School system, Survival of the Fittest. So, you grow up learning to compensate.

Three decades later, I've discovered the other side of my tightrope, the outer self. Confident, earnestly optimistic, people pleaser, looking for the best in everyone and ignoring their faults, no matter how destructive. The gal with the glass half full, as a dear friend recently pointed out.  This version of me became the Centurion. My gatekeeper with a smile. There's that mouth, lying again. She works tirelessly, to make sure everything is always OK. Doesn't help that I work in a profession where you almost always have to be 'ON'. There is very little that is authentic in the Entertainment Industry and we all learn to play along. The irony is, if you play safe too much. If you're seemingly too together, perfect or dare I say happy you're not interesting. So, you start to walk backwards on the tightrope back to the dark side.

Of course if you move too far into the shadows, you lose the spark. You need a little light to catch the twinkle otherwise you just about disappear.  You move back to the center, but where exactly is it? Perspective is so much easier if your across the way looking at the rope between these two places. When you're on it, is like losing all depth perception.

Being in New York, has created growth out of the challenge of surviving here. The city is rough around the edges just like it's inhabitants. There's 1.8 Million people cohabiting in the little island of Manhattan.  That's more rough edges than most people would ever want to deal with. California Sunshine made my joyous outer self come alive and thrive. NewYork is reminding me of the little girl who sits and waits on that rock.  She grows frustrated, even angry. Rage is a color I've desaturated on her behalf. However as of late she is finding a voice and I can almost hear her screaming. Instead of stifling her and burying her in plastic smiles, I might try embracing her. A child who is ignored only gets louder.  I often said I danced along the line between shadow and the light and never was that so true than now.

So I'm back here again on this tightrope, precariously balancing between two ends looking for that 'sweet spot' in hopes of finding gold.