the nothing place and a call to arms

I am in a fight with my brain. 

My old nemesis Depression and his sweaty faced toady Anxiety are trying to move back into my brain and take over. I want to sparkle, live in my happy body, move forward with my hope and take great pleasure in every moment, but my brain is having a hard time fending off those two Assholes who make me hate myself, my body, my surroundings and paralyze me in the nothing place. 

"C'mon, brain," I say, "we're smarter than this. Just throw them out and we can get back to business!"

 "It's not about smart!", my brain counters between pummelings, "It's about energy! It's about communion! It's about feeding the well!"

I need help in my fight, friends. I need to walk, drink coffee, have dates, remind myself how to sparkle, and feed my well.

Will you help me?

hurrah for the lamb or post 100

My new favorite song learned at Indian Neck from the lovely goat whisperer above. It's apparently a Civil War era song. The Open School kid in me wants to teach it to everyone I know, but I think I'll probably just teach it to my organizing step-sister.

Such beauty and big feeling in CT. Still unpacking it all.

Moving to a new apartment in two weeks, big sis put on bed rest needing lots of help, Chris Bayes workshop three days after we move... I think Mary and her lamb are gonna march me through to the other side.

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MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB

Mary had a little lamb, a little lamb, a little lamb
Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow
And everywhere that Mary went, Mary went, Mary went
Everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go

Hurrah for Mary, hurrah for the lamb
Hurrah for the Union boys who did not give a damn
And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go
Shouting the battlecry of freedom

It followed her to school one day, school one day, school one day
It followed her to school one day, which was against the rules
And when the teacher turned it out, kicked it out, shoved it out
And when the teacher kicked it out, it --pffft-- against the wall

Hurrah for Mary, hurrah for the lamb
Hurrah for the Union boys who did not give a damn
And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go
Shouting the battlecry of freedom

Mary had a little lamb, a little lamb, a little lamb
Mary had a little lamb, her father shot it dead
Now Mary takes her lamb to school, lamb to school, lamb to school
Mary takes her lamb to school between two slabs of bread

Hurrah for Mary, hurrah for the lamb
Hurrah for the Union boys who did not give a damn
And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go
Shouting the battlecry of freedom

Everytime I encounter more news about Trayvon Martin, I'm somehow reminded of Rachel Corrie's words:

"I can't believe that something like this can happen in the world without a bigger outcry. It hurts me, again, like it has hurt me in the past, to witness how awful we can allow the world to be.... Disbelief and horror is what I feel. Disappointment. I am disappointed that this is the base reality of our world and that we, in fact, participate in it. This is not at all what I asked for when I came into this world. This is not what they are asking for now. This is not the world you and Dad wanted me to come into when I was two and looked at Capitol Lake and said 'This is the wide world and I'm coming to it.'"

Stories like this make me feel disappointed, not in the unenlightened cops, but in our failure to enlighten them. Our failure to protect Trayvon Martin who needed the protection of a precious cultural asset prescislely because he was a young, black man. Maybe it is naïveté on my part to feel disappointed and even surprised, but I do. I am. How can this continue to happen in my seemingly enlightened world? How have we come so far as a people, but not nearly far enough? I do not accept it. But I don't know what to do.

What do we do? I'm truly asking.

sunning sock

Sweet P is in constant search for colorful men's clothes that are not of the polo or Hawaiian shirt variety. Why men feel their masculinity won't be threatened by bright colors as long as they look like they could be on a golf course or on vacation is beyond me. What about the men who enjoy sweaters, button ups an t-shirts? And worse, what about the men who require a Tall Large or a size 13 to fit their frames and feet? "Here's some navy blue and hunter green! Those non-colors will best fit the huge canvas you've provided."

While he has been able to scout out more colorful sweaters and shirts, footwear continues to be the bain of his mission. Yes, argyle exists, but it tends to fall under the acceptable "kooky" dressing choice that Hawaiian shirts fall under. Yes, bright athletic shoes exist, but Sweet P is not, nor will he ever be, a big Black basketball player. I know. It crushed his childhood dreams when he realized he'd never be Black, because clearly the trifecta was key.

So, I'm knitting him some bright socks. I mean look at those! Yow! Hurts your eyes a little! But lets remember that when the sweet little sales lady at Nordstroms asked him what sort of pink he wanted for his groomsmen's ties he answered, without irony, "Really fucking pink." He takes color seriously and those are some serious socks.

We opened My Ántonia in Detroit Lakes on Saturday. It went well. I don't know if it's the show, the people or Ántonia herself, but I seem to be crawling out of the crippling fear that has clouded my work for the past two plus years. My dad always tells me I'm good at suffering, so working on a long suffering character that very healthily chooses life and forward motion rather than regret has put me in, forgive the phrase, a good headspace. I feel light and full. I feel the very color of feather. I feel myself walking back into the Emily shaped space. I don't want to jinx it, but I feel a little proud.

I continue to book work on a less frequent basis, but feel it a blessing more and more since it leaves space for creating my own opportunities. I've long made my own privilege and it feels good to be forced to make it again.

Meanwhile, I'll merrily jump on our tour bus and knit my way to the next venue when we are privileged to share Ántonia and Jim's glorious story. Catch us when we're in Minneapolis:

My Ántonia
adapted by Alison Moore
directed by Michael Robins
presented by Illusion Theatre at The Cowles Center

Thursday, February 16, 2012 at 10:00AM
Friday, February 17, 2012 at 8:00PM
Saturday, February 18, 2012 at 8:00PM
Sunday, February 19, 2012 at 7:00PM

kitties take advantage of the turkey day resting period

I'd intended to link up to Gussy Sews Inspiration Workshop, but Christmas Carol tech got in the way... At any rate, here's my post!

+++

Thanksgiving is my Dad's favorite holiday.

When I was a kid we would walk down our snowy street to the neighbors' Thaksgiving. It was always full of rowdy kids, joyful adults and mountains of food. The Grandfather of the family was a retired, blind piano tuner. His familiar and forgotten melodies created the cozy backdrop for our grateful holiday. We kids would play hide and seek while the adults cooked and visited. They always called it visiting.

After my parents got divorced that Thanksgiving tradition, like so many other things, never felt comfortable again. But, like so many other things, we moved on and created new traditions.

I remember making Thanksgiving dinner for my Norwegian friends my first year in NYC. I didn't think to order a turkey, so we had Cornish game hens.

I remember the year I flew home to surprise everyone.

I remember my friends squeezing 20 or so artistic orphans into their Brooklyn apartment. I think I sat at the table on an exercise ball.

Last year we hosted my whole family for the first time. Sweet P read Lincoln's Thanksgiving Proclimation and wept his way through a prayer. Lily took a nap with Dad before the pie corse. Everyone went home with a Tupperware full of leftovers. I felt like a real adult.

My Dad's townhouse is all renovated so we're back at his house for his favorite feast. I wish I could bring Lily along to take advantage of the resting period.

red light winter

I've been acting since I was 9 years old. There has never been anything else I've wanted to do, no other vocation has ever called to me. On occasion I've tried to shove the square peg of a different career into the round hole of my life, but obviously it has never worked.

However, lately I've started to become a bit disillusioned--a bit lazy. I have led an incredibly blessed life of almost constant employment and seem to have entered a strange age limbo--too old and too young to be cast properly. I have always been very ambitious in my pursuit of work, but lately I've become a bit paralyzed with fear.

Sweet P noticed the fear in me most poignantly. He told me he could see the fear in me on stage. That terrified me. I went back to therapy and, not surprisingly, it has helped. I've started filling my life with objects, habits and people who thrill and inspire me. More difficultly, I've started removing objects, habits and people from my life who don't deserve to be play a part.

The photo above is from a reading of an incredibly difficult show. It was thrilling, inspiring and, most importantly, my scrappy idea.

I feel I'm coming back to myself--stepping back into the Emily shaped space.

gita

Waiting For The Day, originally uploaded by no3rdw.

One does not accomplish great ends in some by-and-by future, O Warrior. Only in the present can you hammer out real achievement. The worried mind tends to veer from the only real goal-- realizing the Atma, uniting with Divinity, the True Self Within.

The ideal, Ajuna, is to be intensely active and at the same time have no selfish motives, no thoughts of personal gain or loss. Duty uncontaminated by desire leads to inner peacefulness and increased effectiveness. This is the secret art of living a life of real achievement!

balance

Balance, originally uploaded by godalwayshungry.

Thought is the sculptor who can create the person you want to be.

- Henry David Thoreau

vintage buttons

Vintage Buttons, originally uploaded by craftapalooza.

After admiring the bowl of vintage buttons my therapist keeps in her office, she invited me to choose a few to keep. They will act, she told me, as a physical reminder of our work together.

Nothing could have been more perfect. I carried them in my pocket today and when I got some bad news I found comfort in turning these little totems over in my fist.

"Nothing walks, or creeps, or grows, or exists, which must not in turn arise and walk before him as exponent of his meaning. Comes he to that power, his genius is no longer exhaustible." - RWE

a touch of light on the green field in upper austria

A touch of light on the green field in upper Austria, originally uploaded by B℮n.

Sweet P is out of town at his sister's wedding and the longing for him is just awful. It's been fun to stay out late with my "gentlemen callers", but 2 days of it has been more than enough. I want my husband to come home now.

I was called in to rehearsal yesterday and immediately sent away, then told to wait in the hall until they needed me after all. For some other worldly reason -- probably rooted in my longing -- I watched part of Hannah and Her Sisters while I waited. So beautiful. And Sweet P's favorite.

+++

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

e.e. cummings

he questioned softly why i failed, "for beauty", i replied. "and i for truth--the two are one, we brethren are," he said.

I got to be Maggie the Cat for about ten minutes today. It's a funny business, auditioning; so wonderful to delve into a character and throw yourself at the work, but so awful that it only lasts the length of your time slot. It's difficult to reconcile the disperate feelings of ownership and loss over something that was never really yours in the first place.

No callback yet.

Trying to rest me in the thought that I got to be Maggie the Cat one time for about ten minutes.

And there was free ice cream and new babies to coo over.

And sun.

here inside my heart

This morning we skipped church in favor of more sleep and marriage upkeep. On the way to the bakery we saw our neighbor squatting down by a tree with his camera. He was busily photographing a cicada emerging from his shell. In the early stages yet, the cicada looked like a little green shrimp back-bending his way into adulthood. About a foot away the lovely creature above had fully emerged and was drying his lacy wings. My grandmother used to keep the shells and send them to us in film canisters, but I'd never seen the miracle I saw today.

The first day of rehearsal I had a beautiful chat with a couple of my fellows about religion. It's rare under most circumstances to have a beautiful chat about religion with anyone, let alone actors, but we chatted our hearts full. I talked a bit about how moved I get by the glory of nature and my new friend sent me this gorgeous poem.

I feel truly blessed today. By everything.

+++

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking out in my heart.
Along which secret aqueduct, Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life that I have never drunk?

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive, here, inside my heart.
And the golden bees were making white combs
and sweet honey from my old failures.

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night as I slept,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that it was God I had here inside my heart.

Antonio Machado

on the mend

on the move, originally uploaded by manyfires.

I have a cold.

I haven't been sick in quite a long time. In fact, I'm not sure I can remember the last time. When compared with ongoing bouts of IBS, rosacea, psoriasis and allergies, suffering from "just a cold" is rather comforting. Unlike my various "syndromes" I know that the cold had a cause and I know that it will end -- just like a real disease! I proudly bought myself tissues with aloe and a penguin shaped humidifier to combat my simple cold. I am greedily resting on my day off while the last dregs of mucus slide their way off my vocal folds. Ah. Just a cold.

I watched 2 pretty incredible movies last night:

The Social Network and Dear Zachary: a Letter to a Son About His Father

Both completely different, but both touching on the human search for identity and justice. Sweet P and I chattered late into the night about potential -- how to reach for it, how to identify what it might even be, how to get on the elusive track. I find, even though I am steeped in my career, I worry that I'm becoming lazy. Should I be teaching? Should I be taking classes? Should I be looking for work out of town? Should I be figuring out how to make money when I want to have a baby? Am I doing everything I can? And toward what goal?

I don't know. I don't know.

What I do know is that I have a simple cold, that my 5 year old cousin made me a crayon drawn book, that I am honored to be in the presence of the stellar artists deeply exploring The Winter's Tale...

... and that my grandpa had a pet pig named Sue.

week 1 day 5

Glass, originally uploaded by E.L.A.

In which I quit the Whole Living Action Plan.

I find that I don't feel better. I find that I feel paranoid, self-diminishing and anxiety ridden. All I think about is food. Is this enough food? Am I eating enough calories? Am I eating too many? Should I be eating more vegetables or is that bad for the IBS? Do I really have IBS? Can't I just have one glass of wine? What does that say about me? Do I have a drinking problem? Blah, blah, emmer-effing blah.

I don't think this is the way the Whole Living Action Plan intends one to feel. It certainly isn't helping me. For the last 24 hours I have been possessed by the conversation a costume designer and draper had about my body during my fitting:

Designer: It's pulling there at the belly.

Draper: Yeah, but I think that's just...

Designer: ...Christmas?

I mean. Ugh. I mean. Really? I know it's all in good fun and that the fitting is about the design coming to life and that my body is more of a hanger than anything else, but... ugh, really? This plan is supposed to be about empowering me to turn a leaf in the mindful approach to my own health, but I find I feel worse than I did when I started.

That's not entirely true. I find that I taste the sweetness in fruits and vegetables in a much more profound way than I did before. I find that I feel better without the sugar and dairy. So, there is that.

I think my new action plan will be to continue to avoid sugar, dairy and gluten, and to join the YMCA.

week 1 day 3

Avocado Heart, originally uploaded by tres.jolie.

I managed to make and consume my Green Smoothie as well as an avocado with lime and left-over Almond Chicken Soup. It was a green day. The avocado is the most decadent of fruits: the color, the fat, the weighty stone. Not only is it my favorite color but it got me through another long dance rehearsal without feeling weak and woozy.

I miss my cup of Earl Grey tea, but I really miss my glass of red wine. I resisted the siren call of rum cake from the Tech dinner next door, but I succumbed to a sip of a citrus-y cocktail.

I also didn't do my exercises.

Cheater.

week 1 day 2

Sea kale, originally uploaded by Stephen*Iliffe.

It was a really great idea to get up and make a Green Smoothie. It was really stupid to oversleep. It was even more stupid to stand in my kitchen tearing kale when I should be brushing my teeth and leaving the house, only to abandon the smoothie, leave the kale on the countertop and run to the bus. Most stupid was being 20 minutes late for my costume fitting because I was oversleeping and tearing kale.

The rest of the day was yogurt and almonds, Spicy Cauliflower, an avocado with lime, an orange and Almond Chicken Soup. I ended up having a cup of caffeinated tea in the middle of the day to ease my withdrawal headache, but all in all a successful finish to a stupid start.

christmas knits

This Christmas was so blessed by family, gifts and food that it may have been -- as our little cousin Ingrid said -- my favorite Christmas ever! Ing has only had 5 Christmases so it may literally be true in her case, but I find as the years pass it gets harder to get into the spirit. We didn't decorate, we worried about money and skipped church. But Christmas morning, after watching the Concordia Choir Christmas Concert on TV and reading the gospels, Sweet P climbed back into bed and read me John 1:14, NRSV:

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen His glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth.

I know that faith is a process, but I often feel behind the class. Although, as Sweet P weeped while he read me those words I was overcome with thankfulness and awe -- maybe those are the touchstones of my faith journey.

Maybe.

I only knit for my mom and dad this year. Much easier than for the whole growing family and I was pleased with the results.

 Socks for dad.

Neck wrap for mom.

monday makes me merry

In an effort to keep peeking around the corner to the bright side, I will now initiate a regular column on my blog: Monday Makes Me Merry -- 10 things that made me merry since last Monday, besides Monday being my day off.

1. Silas. He is my babysitting charge and holy cats is one cutie patootie! Observe:

2. Understudy Rehearsal. Last Tuesday was our official understudy rehearsal. We got to wear costume shoes and run through the show on the set. What with using all the props it felt like playing pretend in someone else's house! As always with a run, I knew more than I thought, got thrown by all the new information and forgot things I thought I knew, got out of control, delved deeper into moments and learned many lessons. God willing I won't ever have to do it again, but it was lovely to walk around in Stella's shoes (and Eunice's and the Nurses's shoes) for an afternoon.

3. Knitting Baby Booties.

4. Brass Messengers at Bastille Day Block Party. Oh, and burlesque dancers getting nekid in the middle of Irving Ave. Yow!

5. Waking Up Surrounded By Sweet Fat Kitties. Specifically the ones who live in my house and sleep snuggled up to me after Sweet P leaves for work. As soon as I open my eyes they gather around and rub their soft faces against my cheeks.

6. Biking. It gets easier and more pleasurable everyday. 

7. Open Windows. The weather has decided to cool itself off enough that we can turn off the ac and let in the sweet summer air. I love to hear the tinkling voices of playing kids and gentle whisper of the rustling trees. 

8. Sore Muscles. Means I'm working hard on falling back into my body.

9. Afternoon Naps.

10. Finishing Shadow Tag. I am falling more deeply in love with Louise all the time, but I'm glad to put the indulgently miserable characters behind me. What an exhausting a beautiful book. 

emily (you)

One of my best-friends/soul-mates/ex-roommate/Canadian-me is also a gorgeous practitioner of yoga -- specifically Moksha Yoga. Moksha is a series of postures practiced in a green friendly, heated room that started in Canada and has grown a several country community. Emily and I are in the habit of chatting on the gmail, but we suddenly remembered the other day that we now live in the same country again and talking on the phone is a viable choice! Silly Emilys.... So we talked. And talked. And talked. And I felt like a lost limb had returned to my body. She is so well, so strong, with real joy returning to her body. She is ensconced in filling her life with the "yeses" the universe is sending her way.

Two days ago I bought a month unlimited pass to Core Power Yoga because I got a really great deal and I'm tired of feeling like a prisoner in my own body. If this is my 29 year old body then I need to learn to love it rather than hate it -- it's rounder and softer, but it need not be weaker and less flexible. I keep coming back to a sun celebrations I took part in when I lived in NYC, when Jasmine kept saying "Who is in my temple?" Ever since I talked to Emily I've been asking myself that question in earnest.

In an attempt to try to hear the answer I've started my practice again. Core Power is fine and the classes feel good, but I miss that little pink room on Christopher Street. I miss chanting. I miss jasmine oil smoothed over my brow. I miss the icons and the soulful devotion that filled me at Laughing Lotus. Oh well. I can look inside myself and practice a soulful devotion of my own. After all, a yoga practice is what you make it; releasing what is unnecessary.

My body is sore, but my soul is opening.

o! o! o!

Pannonian sea, originally uploaded by Katarina 2353.

O summer!

O Minneapolis!

O lakes, bikes, skirts, farmer's markets, breezes, sunny skin, ice cream, berries, iced tea, outdoor movies, white wine, patios, thunder storms, puppies, walking, colors, flowers, lovers, babies, fans, birds, plants, green, green, green, bare feet, beaches, picnics, beers!

O Minneapolis!

O summer!