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.

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.