Finding Rhythms (or lack thereof)

I was consistent there for a bit writing here every week. I did love that. Now it’s been a couple and…..I still like writing every week, and I’m OK if it doesn’t happen, especially if I’ve done a wordier post on Instagram where I am spending a little more time.

I am often searching for that balance of discipline and flow; looking for what’s a self-imposed structure and it is helpful or forced. I believe things can go back and forth; I know my own rhythms in life do.

Something I’ve been working with recently is looking to see everything I do as an act of devotion. Of COURSE I forget and fall short and catch myself complaining or just getting through or spacing our or whatever, but I love this as a touchstone to come back to. Any writing I do gets to be folded in there as well.

So I will write here, and I’ll write on IG, and I’ll write in my journals, and I’m as ever so glad you’re here.

When you read Sappho

Last summer I had a love affair with Greek literature and some of its spin-offs. I had happened to read Madeline Miller’s Song of Achilles (and loved that so much I also read Circe, which I’d heard about for years and highly recommend), which reminded me that I hadn’t read The Iliad since high school and it was probably worth a second round. A friend was doing a one-man production of Iliad (and he’s bringing it back for 2 nights next week! Info here. So worth seeing!), so the timing felt like it was all lining up. I was being beckoned to this land. Robert Fagles’ translation was suggested to me, and I just decided to go for it. That book read like a suspense novel and an opera put together—so lyrical, so gorgeous, and so on-the-edge-of-my-seat active. After that, I was interested in how Madeline Miller had come to write her take on Achilles, so I watched an interview with her, and in it she mentioned Sappho, and this Anne Carson translation that she loves. Sappho—another one I hadn’t read in decades. I ordered that book and sat on the edge of my bed unable to will myself to get up. I kept reading fragment after fragment after fragment, wanting to clutch the threads of the images and emotions they held and climb them to their origin.

As I think it true for many of us, when I’m reading a particular author or style I can’t help but take it on. So in my own poetry meanderings I, naturally, played with fragments. I was thinking about them yesterday because I want to start reading The Odyssey (and from there Ulysses and A Room of One’s Own); I was thinking about all the Greek from last summer and those poems….I found writing poems in short can be surprisingly satisfying—a completely different way of wrapping my heart around a thought or image, and I don’t tend to overthink them. Here are two I wrote which I still like…Go write some. It’s really fun.

Starlight off his skin

The dawn I dreamed

Rider of white stallions

All that you are to me

Come home

I’ll let you know when the Odyssey adventure begins:) I’m in a Maggie O’Farrell phase right now.

Victorious

Want to know what really scares me? Putting poems anywhere except my journal and maybe into the inboxes of a beloved friend or two.

Want to know what I love to practice? Doing things that scare me.

This is about the things that take us to our knees, and what can happen if we let them instead of fighting that surrender off. If you believe, as I do, that life is conspiring for us, and our souls know so much more than our thinking minds, then these experiences are precious gifts. They are something we called in to do the expansion we are here to do.

Victorious

I thought you came to save me

But you came to break me

You took all you promised,

Gathered it in a black velvet cloak,

Stole away in the night

When all I wanted was to hold it. And you.

I thought I would shatter past repair,

A favorite cup in pieces,

I fell past the softness of life and breath

Where nothing was left

My heart new to loss like this

On the coldest sliver of the floor

That’s when I met her

The tender queen

The wild goddess

She who is allied with light and dark

Who is free, fierce, all colors,

She who sets the sea on fire

And willingly burns

She said give up the lifeboat

You want the waves

How else will you know, except when you are cradled in the valley of the shadow of death

How loved you are

Did you come to break me

Did you come to save me

They happened

Life does

The tender queen demands it

She knows about the wild horses in my heart

She knows they must run free

Perspective Shift

Hello! I’m back from all summer travels. This week is such a contrast to the slow, easy weeks in Bend (pics of that trip up on Insta). So many camps, appointments, catch-up emails, and getting ready for Luciana’s 12th birthday<3. Before I get going, I feel like I want to confess to something. I don’t think anyone reads this blog! I didn’t blog for so long that if I had followed my blog I would have given up. So I’m pretty sure I’m writing for an audience of 1: me. Which is kind of wonderful because it’s a place to practice writing with very very low pressure. Actually no pressure. And I want to write a lot more. I have a lot of ideas, and also feel like I am so out of practice. So this is perfect. What I’m going to write about today is a trial run for something I want to put on social media—a radical perspective shift I had on my birthday, which just passed. I want to try to get these thoughts down in the words that feel right to me.

For years I wanted to be younger than I was. By 30 I was stressing that I was Too Old, really because I didn’t have the glossy acting career I wanted and I bought into the oft-proved story that you had to have a lot of fancy credits by 30 or you weren’t going to get them. I wanted that career so badly. And part of that wanting, and fear of not having it, and being miserable if I didn’t have it, was a lot of concern about my age. How young could I fool people into thinking I was? If people knew my age, would they judge me for not having done more, etc etc. I’m sure you get it; fill in the blanks. And of course now I’m not Old. I’m in my 40s. But it’s the mindset I’m aware of—how young it kicked in and how it loves to come back and try to take me down, and how when it succeeds, I am robbed of joy. I am always on a crusade to heal the things that rob me of joy and of presence.

Fast forward a decade, when I had multiple children and was no longer trying to be a movie star. I worked as an actress—I’ve always worked as an actress—but it wasn’t my primary motivator anymore. However, I found myself still getting worked up sometimes about the age thing. Somewhere I felt like I should have done it all. Had the 4 kids and the supercareer. I felt like if I wanted to work more now it might be too late.

The other piece of this is I’ve never done anything to my face or body to cosmetically alter it. No botox, fillers, surgeries, any of it. Haven’t even had a laser peel. I use only chemical-free products on myself, and I don’t hide under a hat all summer. I love the sun. I wear sunscreen; I wear hats sometimes; I live my life. That said, my body and face are changing. More years, 4 kids, life being life and surprise! I don’t look 30. I don’t even think I look 35. Sometimes that’s SO HARD! To see skin with a different texture, and more lines on my face, to have muscles look different even though they’re as strong as they were 15 years ago. I do sometimes feel less-than when I see glowy 32-year-olds. But…..

Here we are at this birthday and this is when the magic happened. We had gotten home from Bend 36 hours before. Re-entry was proving tough for me—overwhelmed, exhausted from the drive, irritable at everything and everyone in my house. But I woke up on my birthday having reset. Had a beautiful morning with Sky and the kids, and early afternoon headed out for a walk and a bit of solo time, which I always like lots of on my birthday.

There was the ocean, there was the breeze, the birds, and other folks out walking. And it hit me so powerfully: I’d had another year. Holy f**k I’d had another year on this earth. How phenomenally lucky I am. What an absolute gift to have another 365 days of life and to be feeling good as I start the next year. It was full-body and soul appreciation. I know how to think I’m lucky; this was the complete experience. From that came another knowing: for me, at this point in my life, it feels like such a loving, honoring thing to witness my body age as it does. I’ve wondered if I “should” do things like Botox before. I have ZERO judgment for those that do. So many of my friends do! And they look great! For me, though, at this moment, it feels like magic to care for my body and let it be. To witness it as it changes, because that witnessing is part of the appreciation. The astonishment. The claiming of myself now, not the half-wishing I was me at another time.

This last natal year was one of the most transformative for me in my life. So painful at times. Devastatingly so. And more light, more Spirit, more conscious connection to my Source than I’ve ever felt for a sustained period of time. I want to acknowledge the work I’ve done and if my face has a new line or ten to show for it, then there’s love in that too.

This has gone on longer than I thought—I definitely will condense it for the Insta-post, but there it is. Wild awe and appreciation for another year. Immeasurable love for the body that continues to carry me and work so many miracles (2 of which need to be put to bed now). Excitement to witness change in myself. Peace being me right now.

See you next week.

Still on Summer Schedule

I am going with the singular flow that is summer—-lots of bliss and unscheduled time and a LOT to do with kids, especially since we landed from one trip (Ojai—see Instagram for photos since I can’t seem to manage them here!), home for a week and a half, then off again for a spell. So many appointments and unpacking and packing and blah blah. So much to write and I’m just letting myself wait to do it til it’s not 9 at night and I’m wiped out (which is right now). The last couple of weeks have held: spectacular nature time, a phenomenal experience in breathwork, juicing up the home VO studio, more meetings about the house renovation that’s getting underway, theatre auditions, doing whatever the kids want, so much stone fruit, and lots of reading. Sky can’t believe that I read if I have 3 spare minutes in the car, but when I love a book that’s exactly what I’ll do. I hope you are outside more than in these days, that night comes and you’re happily exhausted, and that you sleep deeply with the summer cricket sounds (or whatever your favorite summer soundtrack is). More soon!

No blog this week!

hi my loves, no blog this week. I’m up in Ojai with Sky and the kids, soaking up solstice sun, and I can’t wait to write about it when we get home. XOXOXOXOX

It's the Little Things

You know one thing I love? I love when you’re doing something you love to do, minding your own business, and life throws you a ball and says Here! Come do it more of it over here! And I’ll even send some money your way while I’m at it.

I love to sing. Like really really love to sing. I sing all the time, but it’s not for any purpose other than my own joy. My daughter Luciana, who’s almost 12, also loves to sing. She takes lessons from our piano teacher, and before her upcoming recital our teacher asked if I would work with Luciana on the acting part of the song—to help Luciana shake up some habits we all fall into. I said YES and Luciana said YES (which touched me so much because accepting help from your mom when one is a tween is not always the go-to). When we worked I got to use a lot of the tools I use when I’m preparing an audition, when I’m in rehearsal, when I want to keep exploring a role while I’m performing. Luciana drank it all in, and her presence in the song changed A LOT.

The next time our teacher came over and heard the song she got really excited and asked if I would work with another one of her students who has an incredible voice and completely freezes up in her body when she sings.

It was a big fat YES for me, and I didn’t even know why. I’ve never had any desire to teach acting. I have so many friends who are so good at that, I’m happy to refer people to them, and it just never called to me. But when this offer came up I said Yes before I could even think about why I was responding that way. I got to work with this girl twice this week, before she auditions for a play on Monday. I had tons of ideas pulled from my decades as an actress, my years as a yoga teacher, my stint as a coach, and my deep love of singing. We played with a whole bunch of things, and while we worked I saw such a change: her face opened up, her eyes told a story, her voice found all kinds of levels. I saw her leaning into the music rather than actually physically pulling back. I also saw the struggle it can be to know what we have inside and not know how to let it out, or even if we should.

I am so touched by girls this age. Luciana and I went to see Are You There, God, It’s Me Margaret recently (she hasn’t read the book yet which I think I read 5 times at her age) and I had a rush while I was watching that movie of how blessed I feel to get to mother a girl through tween-hood. It’s such a beautiful time. It can be such a hard time. For me it was such a painful time. So I knew that however I worked with my student this week my primary intention was to love her. And in being a presence of love, to be someone that could help her awaken to her own power and magic. It’s not about how she moves a hand or chooses to walk or stand still—-we can tweak all that when and if we choose—but at this beginning stage I wanted to help her connect to the knowledge that she already has everything she needs. She just gets to play with how she wants to express it, and allow herself to be surprised by the flow of her own creativity.

So. There I was, singing and supporting my daughter and being open to any and all ways Creativity wants to move through me and I got a chance to do this. I felt like I was being of service, I felt I got to strengthen for myself powerful lessons—that’s what happens when we coach someone else in them—-I felt I got to work in another facet of the creative field I love so much. Thank you, Life. I welcome more.

Down the Lines

I believe very much in families being chosen on purpose. That our ancestors pass on wisdom, pain, challenges, and opportunities as much as they pass on eye color or left-handedness. Sometimes when something feels Extra—extra big, extra exciting, extra unforgettable, I wonder if I’m tapping into something someone in my family went through before me—that it’s my turn to evolve or deepen or heal whatever that energy is. That this is part of why we picked each other. Could be something they loved passionately, could be something they didn’t complete, could be a lot of things. Since energy doesn’t disappear (1st law of thermodynamics!) it makes sense to me that it would pass from one descendent to the next until it shifts. There are all kinds of things to read on this, and I’m not going to go on and on about it here, but suffice to say it resonates with me.

I’ve thought a lot about my connection to my maternal grandmother since having my 4th baby 3 years ago. Maybe because she had 2 boys and 2 girls and suddenly so did I. Maybe because she loved a lot of the things I love. Maybe because like me, she wrote, she traveled, she was up for any adventure, she took some big left turns she didn’t see coming. And some of the ways I know she struggled are ways I struggle too. My mom tells me how from the moment my grandmother met me, she felt a profound connection to me. She died many years ago but I feel more connected to her than I ever have, especially to what I believe were the tender parts she kept under wraps. I know how to do that too, but lately life has served me some circumstances in which I find that impossible. The tender parts of my heart are so on the surface that if you brush against them they are likely to leak. And I’m staying with them. I have zero desire to move quickly past them or turn them into anything other than what they are. I feel they have always been there, that they are an Essential part of me, and that by letting them into the light I am experiencing an entirely new level of openness in my life.

I feel that part of my work in this life is to embrace these very very very soft parts. To see what happens if I let them circulate as vital an energy in me as the fiery parts I am always eager to inhabit. And if I feel connected to her in this because maybe—and I know it’s a maybe but it does feel true—she had the same in her heart and she swallowed it. If this was why some of her struggles were as difficult as they were.

2 years ago, back when I still lived in LA, I was doing an online breathwork session and she visited me. She didn’t say anything, but she stayed with me that whole session, just stayed next to me, gentle and loving and so present. When the session ended and I sat up, I wrote this. For her and for me. I didn’t know what it meant then, but maybe I jumped into the future. Into this time when I am finally ready to feel into the deepest layers of tenderness and quiet and see what’s there.

Now is the Time

Now is the time

she becomes her own way

The wall between earth and space is soft now

Green with moss

and memory

one flight up

she opens the door

The pinhole lens expands

A mountain range inside her fills the frame

She can touch the sky

feel the river cool around her ankles

brush her cheek against the moon

Now

in this time

With all there is to hold her

Now in this time

Her heart is hers

Maybe For Real This Time

I seem to be very bad at blogging! The last time I wrote here was when my son was 5 1/2. He’s 9. His sister is almost 12. His brother is 6. His other sister (who didn’t exist in her body when I last wrote) is 3. I don’t live in LA anymore. We moved to Northern San Diego county about a year and a half ago. It’s good; it was hard to make the change; it’s taking me some time to feel settled. I’m trusting my timeline is just right.

But here’s what’s happened—I’m not willing to not write anymore. I love to write so much. Poems, essays, reflections. My journals fill up so fast and I have other notebooks where I jot ideas which sometimes turn into actual pieces. I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes because the line of a poem has become clear and I lie there saying it silently over and over so i know I’ll remember it in the morning. Or I get up and write it down, and once in a while, even if it’s 3am, I just don’t go back to bed. That’s what I want to commit to here—-to writing something, anything, in a format that isn’t just seen just by me. Because there’s something about knowing you could be witnessed. There’s a vulnerability and a risk and I take any chance I can to explore that. To me, vulnerability is a super power. I’m really really really not interested in being guarded (though of course I catch myself being just that plenty of times every day). l don’t want to wait anymore to write until I think I’m Good Enough. Or until I have a through line for the book of poems or essays. I want to write because I love it. I want to write because I am a word person—words are magic keys. I hunger for deep specific combinations of them. I seek them out and pore over them. I chant them and repeat them and share them. I love them.

So I’m committing. Committing to being here once a week. It could be more if I really get on a roll; for now the commitment is once a week, write something, save and publish. I am a big believer in the devotion inherent in practice. Showing up for the things we name as important, and letting the spirit move as it will or not.

See you next week.