A Heart's Gamble

Image from here.

Eyes smile at each other and touches linger. Flirtation plants its seed and desire waters it. Between would you like another drink and you're beautiful, we kiss. Boom boom double-boom, goes my heart, and in an instant smaller than a sigh, hope is born. 

Legs interlace, noses touch, hips kiss. Grr grr grrar, goes my body, and in between this is nice and yeah there, my armor falls to the floor. 

I am nervous, he touches my cheek and torsos piece into each other, a puzzle completed.

Vulnerable and hopeful, I rest on his chest and wait for his lips to find my forehead, his heart to find mine. 

But it doesn't. 

His body goes cold. I don't want to hurt you, I'm not ready for more than this, I don't want you to have expectations, his lips say instead. 

Boom. 

In a breath of space smaller than the sigh in which it was birthed, hope is killed. Desire vanishes, hearts hide.

I turn away and quickly touch my heart. Shh, little heart, it's okay. We'll be okay. We were too quick to trust. We know how this goes. Let's pack up and go now. 

I get up from the bed, and I feel a part of me stay there. That's the gamble; a part of us is always lost. Good bye, my sweet romantic girl. 

I pick up my armor from the floor and put it back on. It is heavier now.  I feel my edges sharpen, I am older. It will be harder to take off next time...

Tell Me I'm Beautiful

It takes a lot of strength to be the one to tell myself I am beautiful. It is one of the hardest parts of being single. When there's someone else telling me I'm gorgeous, then I don't have to, and it doesn't take any effort to boost my self-esteem. But when there's no one there saying out loud, You're beautiful, I don't get to hear it, and when I don't hear something for long enough, it becomes more difficult to maintain it as a truth. If I'm the only one telling myself I'm pretty, then is it still true? 

I do my hearts meditation, I go to my sexy feminine fitness class, I give myself goddess-like treats, I dress up and make it a point to fall in love with the reflection in the mirror. I do all that. I am skilled at observing my mind's patterns and cultivating positivity. But I can't be another person, I can't fabricate eyes that look at me and see my beauty, I can't bring to life a being that tells me what they see. Loving myself, while being of utmost importance, is not like being loved by another.

Will it ever be enough to just hear it from myself? I don't know. I sometimes wonder if I am strong enough to go on for much longer without meeting a fella who can tell me, You're the prettiest girl in the room. It sounds so silly and small, but it's so not. Not for me. I come to life when I am loved and wanted. I am strengthened by love. My inner glow multiplies when someone else sees me as truly beautiful. And I suspect I am not alone in this.

I am talking about love and inner beauty, yes, but I am also talking about plain superficial beauty too. The first look and the glimmer in the eyes that goes with it. Ah, how I miss that. The right guy will see it, my friends say. He'll know how lucky he is. I have good friends, and it's not that I doubt my looks or that I am attractive to men, but you know- I'd like to have someone around to tell me so.

I don't want people to know this about me. I rather be seen as confident and self-assured, a woman who doesn't need to be told by a man that she is good-looking. But I cannot be that strong all the time. I am human, after all, and I am seeking to be loved. For now, I am the one cheering my ego on. But when I haven't got anything left to say to myself and I am sitting in silence, I can hear it, deep inside me: the need. Tell me I'm beautiful.

The Artist's Way

Child Artist- image from here

I am working through Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way, a workbook for recovering and discovering our Artistic Self. It's a 12-week do-it-yourself program, with daily and weekly tasks. I recommend it to anyone and everyone. It's the second time I am working through it.

I was given a used copy of it by a friend a couple of years ago, and it sat on my shelf for two years, untouched. Then, in May of 2010, I found myself deeply sad and stuck. I had spent my first year out of school auditioning and getting rejected, and I had gone through two major heartbreaks in the span of just a few months. I was lonely, uninspired, and in a lot of pain. Then someone sent me an article written by Jenna Fisher, where she talked about going through these periods throughout her career as well, and mentioned how helpful The Artist's Way had been. I picked up my copy, dusted it off, and started reading it. I committed to it because I didn't know what else to do; I needed to shift something within.

Early in the book, Cameron explains that when we are in pain, we are present. The future becomes too challenging to imagine and the past is too painful to remember, so we focus on the present. And that is when we notice the details of life, which is a propeller for creativity. I found that to be true. I was diligent about doing the exercises, and it didn't take long for things to start shifting. Before I knew it, I had created my own show, Leading Ladies, and I had four other plays lined up to perform in. And I fell in love.

The Ladies of Leading Ladies

Things got better quickly, projects were coming my way, and I was happy. I was glowing, in fact, and many people noticed it. So I made the mistake that many people in recovery make: by week 8, I abandoned The Artist's Way. I thought I didn't need it anymore. I was healed. I knew how to nurture my artist and the universe was responding; why spend 30 minutes of my morning writing morning pages, why take an hour out of my week to go on an artist date, why spend 45 minutes on a task, why repeat affirmations to myself? I thought my time would be better spent living, loving, and creating.

I can see now that what happened after that was no coincidence. Slowly, things fell apart. Auditions led to nothing but rejections. I got a job I didn't enjoy. I met people who sucked my creative energy out of me, and I didn't know how to protect myself. I turned into a version of myself I can't stand; bitter, angry, self-loathing, and victimized. My relationship, too, went down a destructive path and I didn't know how to save it. I saw myself losing everything, and I felt powerless.

I have been crying for just about 6 months now, and I haven't acted in a play in 9 months. It was time for a shift. Two weeks ago, as I was organizing one of my closets, I came across my copy of The Artist's Way. I felt such a huge relief in holding it in my hands that I burst into tears. I knew I needed to attend to my artist. I needed to do the work again.

It's only the second week, and already things have changed. Projects have come my way, I have felt my creative juices flowing, and I can feel a huge space opening in my heart again. This time, I hope I'll know better than to abandon the process, and I won't take my progress for granted. It's actually quite simple: Do the work. Results will follow.

I highly recommend this workbook, even if you don't think of yourself as an artist. We are all creative beings, and we all need to attend to that part of ourselves. Creativity, like a muscle, needs to be nourished and given the opportunity to practice and build upon itself. As a teacher of mine in grad school used to say, energy flows where attention goes.

And... I don't know if other people can see it yet, but I looked in the mirror today, and guess what?

I'm glowing.

I think this is a good example of what I look like when I glow. photo by Shirin Tinati.