Olympic Gifts

Talent belongs to God. Training comes from the robots within us. What makes the equally trained and the equally talented unequal is their humanity. Gabby Douglas' charisma, Missy Franklin's sweetness, and Michael Phelps' humility, qualities they sustain regardless of the results, sets them apart from their sometimes more qualified opponents, whose desire to win is palpable and gives away their ego (or their parents' and trainer's egos, in some cases).

Within my own talent and my own training, I have often felt that subtle tug-of-war between my ego's need to succeed and my gift's desire to serve. Before I step on stage, I have learned to ask of myself, May my ego step aside and make way for my gift. May I give what I am meant to give to this character on this stage for this audience. May I have the courage to serve, may I love every minute of it, and may I remember to be grateful for the experience in its entirety. 

I do not always grant my own request. I am sometimes too pleased with myself. I sometimes want to shine more than I want to give. But it is never long before I am humbled. On those moments, I look much like Jordyn Wieber, Viktoria Komova, and Ryan Lochte. Failure shatters poses.

Gifts are delicate. They shy away at the sight of arrogance. I must always keep myself in check, and practice catching it as it happens. If I have enough clarity and presence of mind, sometimes I can reverse it as it is happening. I am failing. I suck tonight. I am shmacting. It is hurting me to fail because I stepped on stage tonight wanting to succeed, wanting to be known as a great actor, wanting to be applauded.  I must let that go. It is not my job to succeed. It is my job to get out of my own way. I'm sorry, Talent. I tried to use you to make others see me, admire me, and love me. That is not your purpose. I accept failing tonight so that I may learn and grow for your sake. 

I watch the Olympics not only to cheer on the athletes I admire, but to study their humanity. I hope to absorb their clarity, their balance, and their drive. And I always applaud the courage it takes to remain humble, kind, and grateful after their consecutive wins.

Making a Wish

When I make a wish I close my eyes and see a huge theatre with a big stage. I walk onto the stage and look out into the audience, who is in the dark. I am the only one lit. There, in the place where I do what I am meant to do, I make my wish.

And then I think of the people I have known in my life who would want that wish to come true for me. Family members come to mind first, then current friends. Then past friends, old friends, distant friends. Teachers, mentors, students, and co-workers. Lovers, boyfriends, crushes, the heart breakers and the heartbroken. People I've known all my life and people I've known for instants.

I think of them, one by one, and see their faces. Whether they know it or not, they want my wish to come true. Even if they have hurt me in some way, or if I have hurt them, they are part of my storyline, and so they are part of what leads me to the knowledge of what will help me grow.

And then, the lights in the theatre come up, and I can see the audience. All those people I thought of are there. A full house; hundreds of smiling faces. They live in my safe place, in my sacred temple, in my heart's home, and they want my wish to come true. They all want me to be happy, successful, in love, fulfilled, clear, and at peace. They all want to see me realize my full potential.

I thank them for being there. And they applaud me, because they know that is my favorite sound in the world.

I open my eyes, and I am the strongest version of myself. I am filled with courage and love. I have made my wish, not upon a star or into a fountain, but in the heart of every single person who has made me who I am today. I am unstoppable, I am alive, and I have touched the miraculous.

The 11th Anniversary of My Plastic Surgeries

Please God make me pretty.

But God is for the poor. The rich can go to sleep and wake up pretty.

Rip
Cut
Suck
Tuck
Nip
Perk
Sew
Scar

And into little jars went the woman I was meant to be. 

Twenty-six thousand dollars worth of self-esteem plastered onto me forever, and no more t-shirts at the beach. No more hiding in the bathroom during pictures. No more getting asked out as a joke.

Drip
Drop
Splash
Shh


Eleven years later, I still taste like plastic.

Gratitude and God

I tend to bargain with God.

I'm not really a big God person but, sometimes, I do talk to someone- and not just an energy or vibration, but someone very specific to me, whose presence I can feel clearly and closely. And I call that someone "God", because it's practical and, honestly, I haven't come up with anything better.

When I have food poisoning and feel like I'm about to throw up my lungs, I start talking to God. Ok. Listen. I'll do anything. Just make me feel better. I know you can do it. I know you just want my attention. So here's what I'll do: I will sell my Prada bags and use the money to buy meals for homeless people. How does that sound? Please, just help me out here.

Or when I want to do well at an audition: Yo. Here's the deal, help me do really well in this audition, because I really really want it and I need a sign that I'm still supposed to be doing this, so help me get this part, and I'll pray every night for a week. Ok, I probably won't. But I'll remember you. I'll blog about you. How does that sound? I'll remember to be grateful. I promise.

Essentially, I turn to God in times of need and, for the most part, forget all about God when things are going well. It reminds me of a Chuck Palahniuk quote, "Your parents are like God, you turn to them when you need them."

But every once in a while, I remember to make a gratitude list before going to bed. It's mostly just an outline of the simple things I usually take for granted. I feel a shift immediately, a relief of being unburdened from always wanting more.

So here's today's list, may this be my tribute to the powers that be.

Today I am grateful for...

Sleeping well.

Warm covers.

Technology that allows for alarm clocks.

Cuddling and body warmth.

Caring about someone.

Coffee with a super fun co-worker.

Rain.

A warm coat.

Monthly unlimited metro card.

A painless subway ride.

Bagel with butter.

My laptop.

Email from an old friend.

Boredom. Far better than stress.

More coffee.

Scrabble.

The outdoors.

Smart women.

Press passes.

Washing hair.

Hot water.

Pink fluffy towel.

Birthday dinner.

Reconnecting.

Sangria.

Tapas.

Chocolate mousse crack cake.

Walking.

Peter Rabbit.

Tea.

Don't have to wake up early tomorrow.

Bed.

Old pajamas.

Blogging.

Faith

I am sick with an ugly cold, which usually means I need to slow down and re-assess my life, but since I've been on vacation for two months, doing nothing but slowing down and re-assessing my life, I'm restless and not at all in the mood to stay in bed and think. And so, against my will, I found myself in bed this morning, shivering, having the following sequence of thoughts, "I feel like shit. Oh God, please let me feel better. Did I just talk to God? Yes, I did. How dare I turn to God now, when I need Him. Did I just call God a Him? With a capital H no less? Who am I? I need to figure out what I believe in. Do I? Yes, I do, so that I don't feel guilty. Uhg, guilt is such a Catholic thing to feel. Well, Larissa, you were raised Catholic- sort of. Once a Catholic always a Catholic, right? No, I don't think so. I don't support religion, really. And yet- here I am, talking to God. Choosing my words carefully, in fact, so as to not piss Him off. There, I did it again, I called God a Him. Well what's wrong with that? Could the feminist in me just shut up for two seconds so I can figure out what I believe in? Actually, Brain, can you just stop thinking so I can sleep and God can do God's thing and I can feel better when I wake up?"

Needless to say, I didn't stop thinking. I started tracing my history with religion and faith, which, of course, starts with my parents.

My mother is Catholic, but I wouldn't say she's an extremist on any grounds. She baptized us and I had a First Communion and I read the Bible (sort of) and she wore her saints around her neck, but she never really forced her children to be Catholic. She took us to church, but when we didn't want to go, she didn't make us, which I think is rather remarkable. I didn't have a bad experience with Catholicism, I mostly just found it boring. And I was never going to memorize all the I Shall and I Shall Not's in order to live my life as a good Catholic, so I pretty much gave up on that at around the age of 10.

My father is not religious at all, but very spiritual. He had a metaphysical magazine for 8 years called Amaluz, meaning Love Light, which was the Brazilian version of the Sedona Journal. He once published some poems of mine in his magazine when I was 13, which was a beautiful gesture and surely influenced my sense of my worth as a writer, as well as poking at my curiosity as to what it was he believed in. Behind his office he has a meditation room, filled with his pyramids and crystals and books on quantum physics. He never once mentioned God to me, but he taught me about meditation. And meditation, for me, brings up an energy that is far beyond my physical self, an energy that connects me to what I call my "soul" and to what I call a "Higher Being".

And then there's the main reason I know there's "something" beyond my human existence: Acting. I felt it the first time I stepped on stage, at the age of ten, to impersonate Nathanial Greene in our Social Studies class. The very shy child that I was known to be transformed instantly and completely into the Revolutionary War General and awed my classmates and teachers. I remember stepping off the stage feeling the most alive I had ever felt, thinking, "Was that me up there?", a question I would continue to ask after every time I performed for years to come.

And the answer I have now (I am aware it will probably change, since I'm still in the beginning of my journey, relatively speaking), is that No, it's not exactly me up there. I am a vessel for a force much higher than myself to express itself. My job is to keep my heart, body, mind, and soul open for this force to shine through me and tell the stories it needs to tell. As a teacher I had in grad school used to say, As an actor we open up our hearts so the people in the audience, in the safety of their dark seats, might open theirs as well. People will go to the theatre or to a movie before they go to therapy, and so in a way, actors are humanity's healers, offering them a glimpse into their own wounds as well as an opportunity to mend them. This explains as well why when I feel like I have failed I take the blame upon myself, whereas when I succeed I attribute it to a higher force. If I "fail"- a term that is difficult to use, since I am not quite sure if it is in fact failure- I believe it is because something in me is closed, and so I have failed at being a vessel for creative expression. When I am open and out of my own way, it all "just happens", my performance "flows". And it is in those moments that a Higher Being, that God, that the Creative Forces of the Universe, are real to me. It is in the space between technique and talent that this untouchable energy exists and I find my faith. I call it, simply, "It", since I cannot find a word that truly encompasses everything "It" means to me. What I know is that I have to have faith in It, nurture It, speak to It, and pray to It, in order to succeed as an performer. My heart won't open if I ignore It, and what I do is simply too important to me- I dare say it's vital for my existence- for me to dishonor It in any way.

Acting is sacred to me, I have rituals and prayers and charms for it, and I really believe it is my mission in this life to be an actor. I don't even like to say I have a "talent", I much rather call it a "gift". I was given this body, this heart, this mind, this soul, this life, so that I can tell the stories and bring to life the characters that humanity needs me to.

So, my faith seems quite clear to me in regards to acting, but it's still rather hazy in daily life. I hesitate to speak directly to God because I attach the deity to religions I do not identify with. And I do not want to attach a gender to my Supreme Being, and God most certainly feels masculine to me. I often end up speaking to The Powers That Be, which also sounds religious, but feels more accurate than God, especially since I do not feel this Energy to be singular.

I think that's how it's supposed to be though. Dictionary.com defines Faith as "Belief that is not based on proof". And so I conclude that part of faith is doubt, and not knowing quite how to define it doesn't mean it's absent from my life. Plus, it's probably healthier to accept the ambiguity of it than to attach myself to certain definitions and thereby limit something that feels so immeasurable. I shall rest my mind now, and let equivocal faith bring its teachings and treasures into my life as it so wishes.