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.

Raised by Lesbians, a Fine Young Man Speaks

I love this video. I want the world to see it, share it, like it, comment on it, pass it on, show it in schools, and be moved, as I was, to tears.

And I'm 26

This year's intention:

May I have the courage, strength, and willingness to do what I am meant to do in this life, every day.

It's my day, may it be a happy one.

Birthdays Are Hard

It is almost my 26th birthday. I can count down the hours. I made plans, so that there would be plans as opposed to no plans. I have played up the yays and woo hoos, because I am good at doing what is expected of me. I am going to buy a dress tomorrow with my mom, since a birthday is a good reason to buy a new dress. I will pick up the phone, I will answer the text messages and emails and facebook wall posts. I will be grateful and polite and cheerful. Like I said, I'm good at doing what is expected of me.

But my birthday is really hard for me. It always has been. As you can see, it takes place in July, which means that throughout my entire childhood and adolescence, all my friends were away for the summer during my birthday. While everyone else got a cake at school and had their friends around on the weekend to celebrate, I spent my birthday with my family at whatever location we would spend our summers, which is only possible to appreciate when one no longer has a family- until that day I, like everyone I know, take their company and love completely for granted.

I tend to get really sensitive and emotional on the week of my birthday, and it sucks. I am already a sensitive and emotional person, often labeled as dramatic even, so it's like suddenly my sadness took a growth pill. Anything I've been storing, whether I'm aware of it or not, pours out of me and before I know it I'm crying on my yoga mat because my teacher said, "let's be grateful for what we have," and I don't feel like being grateful, I feel like being sad, dammit.

This birthday also has the disadvantage of being the closest to my last birthday, and suck by comparison. Last year, though I was hit with the same difficulties surrounding the time of my birthday, I was happy. I was producing Leading Ladies, a play I created from scratch and that I couldn't have been prouder of. I had two more plays coming up after it, so I didn't have to worry about what to do next. I was being creative and living the way I believed I was meant to live. I had just started dating a man I couldn't stop thinking about, and I was super ready to fall in love. I was going to yoga almost every day and feeling great about my body, mind, and spirit. It was a wonderful time in my life, and the birthday blues felt like a manageable learning experience, maybe even one I could have fun with.

But this year is not like last year. I haven't acted in a play in nine months. I haven't even auditioned. The man I was so ready to fall in love with last year; well, I did fall in love, but I ruined it, and he left me five months ago. Because I have been recovering from a surgery, I have not been able to work out, and I can only go to yoga once or twice a week, so I don't feel great about my body right now. I feel quite lost about what to do with my life, and not in that "I am bravely venturing into the unknown," kind of way, but much more like, "I don't know what the hell to do anymore."

There are good things too, and I am certainly able to see them. I am directing a play a friend of mine wrote and it is an amazing experience. I have found a theatre group that deeply nourishes my artist's soul and I look forward to seeing them the way a child looks forward to jumping in the ocean. My surgery was successful, and my body has been relearning how to function, which has been an important lesson for me in patience and compassion with myself.  I have worked in jobs that have taught me a lot about who I am, what I can do, and what I want, and I have met some incredible people along the way. There have been messages everywhere, and the post-break-up growth has been crucial to my understanding of myself.

There is a ton of sadness, though, and it is challenging to keep it from blinding me. I try to loot at a birthday as an opportunity to reflect and set intentions. I do not know what mine could be yet, but if I think of some by Saturday I'll post them. I am a fan, after all, of letting things shift, of watching heaviness and negativity do their thing and then leave so that something else can come in. Birthdays are hard for me, there's no way around that. I'm sitting with the difficulties, I'm acting out on them at times, and I am looking ahead. It's only the 26th time I've had to do this. Maybe by the 52nd I'll get the hang of it...

Until then, come have a beer with me on Saturday and tell me I don't have to smile for you.

This is every metaphor for every feeling. It is also my footprint, staged for this picture, at a beach in LA.

*Thoughts Simply Arise also has a facebook page now! Go like it!* 

Intentions

I am not really a holiday person. I don't have a favorite holiday, I don't really look forward to any particular one, and I don't get terribly excited about them. I always feel there is something forced about a holiday, a combined sense of obligation and expectation that mask whatever its initial intention was. But I'm also not a non-holiday person. I don't refuse to celebrate, nor do I get upset about any given holiday taking place. Mostly, I try to find something I can appreciate about each occasion and I go with the flow.

On New Year's Eve, I appreciate the opportunity to set an intention for a new year. I can set an intention on any given day, of course, but the fact that this one is supposed to count for a whole year- perhaps forever- gives it a different power. No matter how many times a goal may not have been met in the past, there's always a refreshed hope that maybe this time it will work. After all, we have been strengthened by another year- we are not the same people we were in the previous new year's eve- this could very well be the year when we do take up tap dancing, when we do learn Italian, when we do save enough money to go to Ireland, when we do eat more carrots, and when we do get around to reading Anna Karenina.

So I sit here, on the 31st of December, wondering what could be my intention for 2011. There are always the familiar dilemmas. Is it more important to think about acquiring a flat stomach or to stop obsessing over my body image? Neither has ever been a very realistic goal, so is this the year when I give up on both of them? Do I want to think about getting a reliable job or do I want to keep dreaming? Should I redefine my career expectations or should I feed my persistent fantasies? Do those things really matter, anyway? Maybe I should just go for "good health" and "peace on earth" and leave it at that.

I breathe deeply. I need to listen to my higher Self, I need to listen to my heart.

What do I really want?

As soon as my mind quiets down, I hear a response. The answer surprises me. It is clear and specific, and it comes to me in a very, very strong voice.

I want to be free of expectations without losing sight of what I am meant to be in this life.

Well. All right. That will be my intention for this new year.

I wish everyone a wonderful 2011, may we all listen to our inner voices and make room for what we really want.