Morning Meditations

I received some much-need, peaceful closure yesterday on an issue that was weighing heavy on my heart and mind. I'm slowly learning the difference between 'tears of grief' and 'tears of catharsis'. I much prefer the latter. Let the healing continue.

This morning, I was up at the crack o' dawn to kiss my sweetie and see him off on another adventure in 'the life of a cinematographer'. This will be the third weekend in a row that he's been out of state on my non-working days. (Yes, I'm whining.) My work life has been a bit more intense lately, so I cherish the evenings and weekends we can spend together. Part of me hopes that this project wraps quickly so that we can squeeze in some ocean-time before the summer ends. The other part of me is living vicariously and loves to hear about his travels and projects too much to want them to end.

But solitude is good for me. I started to find that traveling out of state for shows or auditions forced me to be okay with being alone. Coming from a large family, having children at a young age, and consistently being in relationships meant that I always had some form of companion. Being on my own was something I never thought I was 'good at doing'. Turns out, it's just another state of being.

I've probably posted this before - in part or in whole - but it came across my radar again and made for a good morning meditation.

"In this world, it is very difficult to find a happy person, because nobody is fulfilling the conditions for being happy. The first condition is that one has to drop all comparison. Drop all these stupid ideas of being superior and inferior. You are neither superior nor inferior. You are simply yourself! There exists no one like you, no one with whom you can be compared. Then, suddenly, you are at home..."


Find your happy. Then chase it down and beat it with a stick until it submits.

I've Fallen... but I got back up.

So, I guess I'm blogging again.

I'm not sure how long it will last. (Obviously - look at my track record.) For now, at least, it's good to be back.

I've now passed the one-year mark since I did my last theatre gig. While I miss the stage and am often perusing audition notices, nothing has jumped out to make me say "I have to do this show!" I find myself wanting to write more often than 'act'... which is probably a good thing, considering the slim-pickings from Backstage.com. I let my website expire and haven't updated my resume since my last project. It has felt strangely liberating, but there are many days that I miss having that creative outlet.

In the meantime, however, I've managed to get my boater's license, learned more about the water and marine life (in general), cut my nicotine and caffeine habits, harvested the first veggies from my garden, learned how to change my own oil and filter (though I'm REALLY hoping I never have to), reconnected with dear friends, oh - and fell in love. Twice.

I should clarify - I met a man who I absolutely adore in every way and quickly fell crazy in love with him. Then I met his daughter and fell in love all over again.

It has been quite a month!

July promises to be quite the adventure already, so I can't wait to see what it has in store for me.

Life is good.

Resurrection of 'The First Kiss'

My 'official' first kiss was in the summer of '86 (I think - the years get fuzzy these days). The son of my grandparents' friends invited me out to dinner (my first chaperoned 'date'). We were on the wooden stairs leading up to the game room of an Old West themed restaurant - the smell of BBQ chicken and smoked ribs in the air. At the last possible second, I realized how rank my breath was - and closed my lips tightly in an attempt to hide my oral odor. "Addicted to Love" was playing on the speakers overhead. Oh, how true those lyrics turned out to be!

After multiple boyfriends, two failed short-term marriages and one miserable long-term relationship, I've learned a few things. Unfortunately, I've learned more about what love IS NOT... but the power of rational thought has also allowed me to translate this into what love IS.

“Unless its mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it’s a waste of our time. There are too many mediocre things in life; love shouldn’t be one of them.” ~ Unknown

I've recently experienced my own rebirth in love - a resurrection of that which I once thought dead and forever gone. I hold the hope that this was indeed my last "first kiss" - rising from the ashes to remind me that we are all capable and deserving of love.

Love is a consistent, truthful, fulfilled, healing way of relating to ourselves and others.
Love is freely given and received. It is not earned nor legislated, imprisoned nor held hostage.
Love speaks out for justice and protests when harm is being done.
Love does not come with conditions, stipulations, agenda, addenda, or codes. Healthy love, however, comes with guidelines and parameters and "rules" co-created by its participants.
Love cannot be turned on as a reward or turned off as a punishment. Only something else pretending to be love can be used as a lure or hook for bait and switch, imitated or insinuated, but the 'real deal' can never be delivered if it doesn't occur naturally and freely from the heart.
Love points out the consequences of hurting oneself and others.
Love is bigger than you are. You can invite love, but you cannot dictate how, when, and where love expresses itself. You can choose to surrender to love or not, but it is unpredictable and irrefutable.
Love allows room for anger, grief, or pain. It does not cower or diminish in the presence of these things.
Love does not say directly or indirectly that if you want to be loved, you must "be a good girl", or "nice", or "do what I want".
Love isn't a power-struggle or about control. It is win some/lose some. It is compromise.
Love honors the sovereignty of each soul.
Love doesn't hurt. If it hurts, it's something else - fear, attachment, idolatry, addiction, possession.
Love isn't perfect. There is room for mistakes and quirks and missteps. Love means being hurt sometimes, but not irreparably.

Unconditional love is not being a self-sacrificing doormat or loving someone "no matter what". Unconditional love begins with loving yourself enough to protect you from the people you love if that is necessary. Until you start loving, honoring and respecting yourself, you are not truly GIVING - you are attempting to TAKE self worth from others.

Last night, the Supreme Court of the United States ordered that all Americans are afforded the right to marry in all 50 states. The predominant sentiment among my newsfeed right now is, "Love Wins".

Yes. Yes, it does.

Love is the dissolution of the borders between "you" and "me" and "them". Those lines are conceptual and imaginary anyway, and love offers a clear vision to see the world without them. Love wins. It is powerful. To love someone is to partake on the greatest adventure - it is unknown and wild, carefree and brutal, rich and honest, deep and meaningful.

For the past 24 hours, I've been reminiscing about young love, and daydreaming about what all of this means for my children and my children's children - who will never know a world in which people are not free to publicly (and legally) declare their love for and devotion to their partner. This gives me hope for a more tolerant, inclusive, loving, future world.

“Throughout this life you will meet one person who is unlike any other. You could talk to this person for hours and never get bored. You could tell them anything and they would never judge you. This person is your soul mate, your best friend. Don’t ever let them go.” ~ Unknown

Rebuilding Trust

I have squirrels in my back yard - one in particular who will climb on to my patio screen and chatter until I toss him a scrap of bread or a cracker. (I've named him Marvin.) He snatches his treats and hops to a safe distance where he can watch me warily as he nibbles. (We've run this routine for a good year now.) Because I have cats (and until recently, a dog) who can fly out the pet door at any moment, most of the other critters keep their distance. But Marvin is always there. He taunts the cats (and has tussled with one of them at least once) and flaunts his courage to the other squirrels who stay far away - close to their escape routes.

This morning, he used my head as a landing pad and jumped from the screen to my noggin and then hopped down within 8 inches of my feet and looked up as if to say, "Your move, giant woman."

I tossed him a scrap of bread, and instead of snatching it and retreating to a safe distance like he always does, he stayed. Nibbled right there at my feet.

I crouched down to be closer. He flinched, but didn't bolt. After a second he resumed eating, and upon finishing his treat looked to me for the next one. I held out my hand.

He sniffed the air, inched closer, stood 'at the ready' (I could swear I saw him take a deep breath) inched closer again - and snatched a bit of tortilla right out of my hand with the slightest brush of fur and tiny nails. Again, he didn't retreat - just sat there and ate his fill.

Trust.

It took us a year to build.

No words, no 'relationship status', no intentions, no expectations. My patience. His courage. A mutual respect for the damage we could inflict upon one another. Care (mostly on my part) not to compromise that respect. To honor it - nurture it - celebrate it. (Quietly, and without any sudden movements.)

I imagine this wouldn't mean much to most people, but to me... it's everything.

Trust can be rebuilt. It will take time. It will take patience and courage.
The rewards, though intangible, are what feed my soul.

The Dawn of Mid-Life

I turn forty tomorrow.

I can remember being 9 or 10, sitting on the counter in my bathroom with the mirrored door to the medicine cabinet angled to face the large mirror above the sink. I could stick my face between the two mirrors for a view of me x infinity.

It was there that I first pondered existential questions that led to wondering what I would look like as an adult and who I would become.

Some of my musings weren't far off the mark. I look like my mom (when she wore her hair long). I've worked in the arts and with children for all of my adult life. I did not become a singing missionary, a veterinarian, or the best tap-dancer in all of the Southwest United States.

I had great expectations, as I imagine most young people do. At some point, I was sure I'd be married with children in a nice home close to family and friends with neighbors that went to the same church and had block parties on holidays. 

My story is one that has been retold at political rallies, key note addresses, motivational workshops, you name it. But my story is ever-evolving, and parts of it so far removed that it feels as if they belong to someone else.

I was a gold-star kid, academically and socially adept, poised for success. Scholarships to Universities, job offers with major players in my desired profession, opportunities galore. I felt invincible.

With only 3 months left until my High School graduation, I got pregnant. I was dating a boy I'd met while working over the summer with high-risk elementary school kids. I liked him a lot. He was good-looking, fastidious, goal-oriented - strong in the areas I felt weak. We were reckless and careless and had too much time on our hands. Both of our sets of parents were going through divorces at the time and we were left without much supervision. It was a volatile combination.

I was kicked out of the house and my relationship with my parents became truly adversarial. I lost my family, my church family, my scholarship offers and my job prospects in one fell swoop. I gave into the social and religious pressure to get married, and we bought a house and had a second child by the time we were 20.

At 21, we separated. At 22, we divorced. I persevered in my chosen profession and started taking classes again. At 24, I remarried a very sweet man who tried his best to be my partner in every way. It wasn't him - it really was me. We separated when I was 26. I rediscovered my passion for the arts and revisited pursuing a degree. At 27, I fell in love with my leading man in a community theatre play. (I know, it's so cliche. Sorry.) For 13 years, we were a bi-polar, on-again-off-again roller coaster. My focus was primarily on creating a life that was exciting and "fun", my kids grew up, I moved away when they started college, my son moved in with me a year and a half later, and the boyfriend dumped me (for good) last August. 

Throughout my life, I've determined my value and worth based on my relationships. Some studies will say that this is because I'm inherently female. Some experts will say I'm co-dependent. My horoscope says I'm a typical Pisces. Whatever the root cause, I understand and accept that part of me. It helps to define who I am, but it does not encompass my fully-realized purpose.

And so it is that I'm here, starting a new blog as part of my rediscovery. Starting a new chapter in my story. I'm redefining relationships and rebuilding ones I've neglected (including my relationship with myself), and not allowing fear of failure to stop me from trying something new.

I also started gardening. So there's that. 

Farewell, 39. You were one hell of a year. I'm not sad to see you go.

Hello, 40! I hope you'll be as good to me as I intend to be to you. 
Don't let me down.

Revelations in Doggie Bags

Okay, so yes... it has been months upon months since I've posted. Lots of life changes, new full-time job, new awesome cause, new lifestyle habits. Which haven't included blogging. Don't judge.

Anyhow, upon moving to Florida, I noticed some changes in my dog's coat that made me start to research everything from environmental factors to diet. It doesn't hurt that I have access to the homeopathic crack-den that is Pinterest. After much reading and recipe-searching, here's what the grocery list looked like:

16oz. spinach               1.68
5 c. mixed vegetables   4.50
Ground Chuck (1.3lbs)4.00
Ground Turkey (2lbs)  6.00
Bacon (1pkg.)             3.98
12 oz.Cottage Cheese 1.98
8 Eggs*                        1.00
1 c. Rolled Oats          1.00
Rosemary                     .50
12oz. Kidney Beans      .78
12oz. Black Beans        .78
8oz. Beef Stock          1.82
2 c. Brown Rice            .37
Total Ingredient Cost = 27.44   ($13.72/week)

I made both batches at the same time, since they have so many similar ingredients. The general rule is 1/3 protein (animal protein is advised) and 2/3 veggies and grains. Here's how it went down:

Boiled small pots of water on my back burners for the rice and rolled oats, substituting about an ounce of water for beef stock. With about 10 minutes left to go with the rice, I threw in about 1/2tsp. of finely chopped Rosemary. In a pan on my front burner, I cooked up the bacon.
Once done with those elements, I threw the bacon and rice in a large bowl to cool and set aside the cooked rolled oats as well.
I deglazed my bacon pan (it was very lean bacon - very little fat to speak of) with a few ounces of the beef stock and thawed my frozen spinach with just enough water to cover it in the pan. Set aside spinach to cool.
Throw your ground chuck into the recently vacated spinach pan with some beef stock and start browning that bad boy.
While the beef was browning, I took my (now cooled) ingredients to the food processor. Brown rice and bacon together - a few nice zaps until it's a pasty, unappealing mess. Set aside. Throw in spinach and veggies for a few zaps until it looks like an overzealous slaw. Set aside.
Once the ground chuck is cooked, drain and set aside. Use the same pan to cook your turkey with whatever is left of your beef stock.

Now the fun part: In two LARGE Tupperware containers, I portioned out half of the bacon & brown rice slurry, the veggie slurry and the rolled oats. I used canned beans (because this was enough work already) and mashed them by hand until they were good and macerated. Divvy those up between your containers as well. One container received all of the turkey and half of the cottage cheese. The other container got the ground chuck and the other half of the cottage cheese. Mix all parts well. Refrigerate. (I threw the 'beef meal' in the freezer to thaw for next week. If you can fit both in your fridge, then you can alternate meals and be an uber super hero. My small eco fridge relegates me to sidekick status.)

*A note about the eggs. The eggs are additional protein for the 'beef  meal', which I intend to freeze. Since eggs don't freeze well, I'm waiting to add them (you can use them raw or cooked) until I thaw it out next week. Just before refrigerating is also when you'll want to add any essential oils (ie: Fish oil for coat.) If you're not freezing your beef, add in the eggs all willy-nilly. Again, raw or cooked - your choice - there are arguments for and against either option, so do your own research.

About halfway through the food-processing portion of the project, the delicious aromas of rosemary, brown rice and bacon began to blend together - definitely smelled more like dog food at that point. (Which is right around the time my Roxie started to stand sentry at the kitchen - which ended up being awesome because I made her taste-test every step of the way.)
I was worried about the pasty-glue texture of the rice and oats - but that did NOT seem to bother the dog one bit. She didn't lift her head out of her bowl until it was licked clean. AND... no post-dinner nuclear dog farts. SCORE!

At a cost that is the same (or slightly cheaper), and took about 2 hours total in the kitchen, you'll have 2 weeks of dog food - and a survival option suitable for humans in case of emergency. Plus, you know EXACTLY what is in your dog's food. It's a bit of work, but it's SO worth it for your furry family members.

2013 in Review

I can't believe we've reached the end of another year.
And I'm still here.

2013 was a year of resolutions. Not the kind of resolutions usually proclaimed on January 1st. I didn't lose weight, I didn't quit eating crap, I didn't work out more, I wasn't nominated for a Tony.

I saw closure on issues that had been unresolved for decades. Issues that had slowly chipped away at my confidence and feeling of competence without me even realizing it. I've been approaching life with a compounded feeling of trepidation each year - not sure what life would throw at me, and without the confidence that I could handle it.

A collaboration that has been in the works for the better part of this year saw it's first round-table reading, and prompted the start of two more scripts. Writing more has meant blogging less, so none of this has been without sacrifices, but it has been a progression of small victories for me.

I didn't get out to a lot of the auditions I would have liked to. In fact, I didn't get out much this year at all. Save for theatre pilgrimages to Little Rock and Phoenix for shows, I frequented my local haunts (the beach, the neighborhood, farmer's market)... but mostly the inside of my condo. (Or glued to my laptop on the patio. Sorry... lanai.) It has been lonely... but as my support circle grows one person at a time, I can't help but be bolstered by the people who believe in me.

I have no idea what 2014 is going to bring, but I can only feel hope in place of the usual hesitation. My old sense of adventure is beginning to return as I shake off the weight of the past and look forward to the unknown.

We've made it this far.
Bring it on.