Thursday, May 10, 2018

Art of Connection

I have been thinking a lot about connection lately.
The beauty and power of both holding on and letting go. How does that connection effect us? How does letting go effect us?
How sometimes when you think about a person you see their name everywhere. A street sign, a trolley name, a famous person, a place, on a car, in the paper, on a book.

You think did that name ever exist before? Now it’s following and surrounding you. Is it trying to tell you something?

Try this - close your eyes and choose the color red. Now open your eyes and looking around find all the things that are red. They will jump out at you for attention - or is it your attention seeking them?

A dear friend of mine recently wrote about the positive effect of finding a coin that reminded him of his special grandfather. Upon seeing that coin, how it gave him a positive boost and what he did with that resourced energy.
It is known that coins may represent signs from our loved ones who are now within their next adventure.
I too will always smile when I see a coin, a dragon fly or the numbers 11 11.
For the first year of being a widow I would take a photograph of the ceiling and always, always found a white light within the picture. That happened for the entire first year and believe me, it brought such comfort. 
I did not feel so alone, I had a connection. Was it really a spirit? A blemish on my phone? I don't know, but it was a connection.

We all feel better after sometime spent with a special friend. We all find release in reading that favorite poem, book or seeing that movie that just seems to get and accept us.

Is this why some of us are attached to our phones and technology?
I understand the concern when our heads are down with fingers tapping when we are in the company of the people we are writing about. However, I also see the quiet joy of faces smiling over phones when they are miles apart.

We need to find our tricks, because they work.

There is no place like home and home is where the heart is. So to be reminded and connected to that will always provide a sense of peace where one can realign with goals, energy, purpose and living.
In all the things that we race to achieve and find - perhaps it all boils down to this.

When you're in a plane and you look down and see the land below clearly as a grid, with roads and rivers and lines, you can see how it all connects. Even a dead end is connected, and perhaps that dead end is a beginning.


So if seeing a coin or a shining light in a photograph brings inspiration and strength - then how amazing are our brains that we can create and make that happen.

If, at the end of all of this, I discover that these were actual signs - then oh what a magnificent joy that will be. Either way, and in every way, we win.

Monday, April 30, 2018

Divine Magic of Writing

In 2013 I moved to Providence and made a promise to myself to return to my play writing. I nervously began by joining a class at The Gamm Theatre in Pawtucket.

Many, many pages and five years later, it was divine creative magic that had Jessica Chace from The Gamm, choose my play to direct for the Boston Theater Marathon.

The marathon receives hundreds of submissions, fifty are chosen and then local theater companies choose the one they wish to direct. Out of fifty companies, my jaw dropped when I read in an email that I was paired with the theater that had reignited my passion. I could not have chosen better.

I was walking on air to arrive for a rehearsal of my work at that theater, with actors I had seen and admired in productions, and here they are performing lines I had written. Every playwright understands that feeling. It's delightfully surreal.

Sometimes, we work incredibly hard and sometimes it is faith, whispers of connection and pure divine magic that will offer a helping hand. I have always loved feeling that there are wings around us and just occasionally when I have felt them; I am lifted into my true, authentic self.
My writing has, (always was actually) a place where I love, cry, laugh, grow and live. I am so fortunate when others want to join me in that exploration.

In anticipation of the performance in Boston this Sunday - I want to thank Kate Snodgrass for creating this amazing theater marathon. It is an honor to be included.

Thank you to The Blue Cow Group - my writers group, we too came together through classes at The Gamm Theatre and have been working hard and inspiring one another to achieve some pretty cool work.

I want to thank Jessica Chace, for reading my work and bringing it into a delicate, vulnerable life with our talented actors Rachel Dulude and Tom Chace.

You have made this lady a happy one.  Did I say - THANK YOU xx




Saturday, April 14, 2018

Loud Stuff & Cookies at an Airport

This week while waiting at an airport gate in Washington DC, I suddenly saw something leap in front of me and I screamed. Screamed like a child. No, I screamed as loud as a 51 year old adult can scream. There was I, sitting, early morning, eating my breakfast, I did not expect this.

A small bird had jumped out from the chair opposite to practically land at my feet, to beg for the cookie I was consuming. I screamed, the bird screamed, then shrugged its shoulders in disappointment (or sarcasm) and flew off.

Embarrassment arrived as I lifted my head expecting to be surrounded by armed security while everyone else would be laying on the floor. I would be arrested, green card taken and wearing orange before my flight had pulled in.

I looked around. The young girl opposite me said bless you, thinking I had sneezed, while the other said "Yeah fuck, I thought that was a rat."
Everything had stopped for me and yet only two people and a tiny bird noticed.

Isn't it funny from our own prospective of how we view situations? How most things are so important, noisy and busy while no one else is paying attention. How loud we think we are or how quiet we think we are.

At another gate the day before two men were talking. Actually, let me say one was talking while the other had to listen. He was demonstrating his male dominance about a work story that featured pornography suddenly appearing on a computer screen. It was sexist, loud and boring and the two ears that had to listen (others at the terminal had no choice) nodded patiently. At the end of the story the man declared "I'm going to write a book." I could literally feel the sigh of everyone say "dear God don't bother."

On the other side of this coin, I recently worked with an incredible woman and could see how those around her were so busy attempting to keep up with her energy, they could not actually assist her. In her need to achieve her mission, she had forgotten to give basic instructions and there was a frenzied flurry where she had to complete most of the tasks herself.
In order to do something, you cannot do everything, I wanted to whisper to her. But who am I?

The sad days arrive when we think we are being noticed, or belong, or cared for and we are simply are not. When we believe we ourselves are noticing, caring for and making those around us feel they belong, while we are not.

I am bewildered at how we run and race and do so alone, while others huff and puff believing that the world is paying attention. Houses are to be built, not blown away. We are worth so much more than that.

As I boarded that flight, I was thinking, about the word 'together'. I feel it means to gather strength, love, and to gather happiness. I fancy some of that.
I should have shared that cookie, I thought. We all should.




Monday, March 19, 2018

Triple A & David Bowie

Last week, I had a conversation with my triple A man, aged 27 years - "I'm 28 on Sunday" he boasted as he fixed a new car battery.
He then asked me if I liked sports.
Then he asked me if I liked shopping. (I like shopping about as much as I like sports.)
Then he asked what music do you like?
"Well my absolute favorite is David Bowie" I replied.
"Oh" he says "Is he like Michael Buble?"

No, dear sweet, young triple A man - David Bowie is nothing like Michael Buble.

Throughout my life, the incredible music of Bowie has been my partner.
In moods, dance, inspiration, spirits, love, love making, ambition and work.
He is part of some of my favorite memories involving my brother, both of us screaming from a balcony in London as Bowie simply walked onto the stage and began to sing.
(Another terrifying memory was when my brother told me he too was an alien and could pull his face off, after we had watched The Man who Fell to Earth.)
A previous boss & friend of mine communicates a need for help with a Bowie phrase.
I use it constantly to write. I use it to change my mood, to boost my confidence, to simply move.
My connections are deep and wide. That's what we create when we find our musical heroes.

I miss David Bowie. The day he died, my brother and I could not talk.
I thought - no I'm OK, with the experience that I have been through, I'll be fine. I wasn't and seeing his face, and many faces, flash on the breakfast news was too much.

When a hero dies, whom we have never met, it does something to us. It's that bleak reminder, again, that none of us get out of this alive. That we are vulnerable, that there is a ticking clock.
The possibility to meet a hero, to thank them, to have eyes meet, is now over. The anticipation when you get the concert tickets, or hear that there is a new album. The idea that you might just bump into them as you walk through New York City. It all ends when you hear they died. I wonder if it is just another piece of your hope that dies? Especially if they've been a hero since your childhood. It's another recognition that there is no Santa, Disneyland is expensive and easy diets do not exist.

So, thank you young triple A man for at last giving me the boost to post this blog with my humble thank you to my David Bowie.
Plus, what a joy, to find that now, I join the older people bracket and can honestly say - nobody writes music like that anymore.


I still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I've never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I'm much too fast to take that test





Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Blissful Love on Valentines Day

I love Valentines Day, of course I do!
I found this poem in a book of anonymous writings and wanted to share.
Enjoy your day, always turn to love and never take it for granted x


TO SEEK A BLISSFUL LOVE
Is the real truth found within that moment
When you think
Could we be? Did we just....
Move slowly, or quickly into blissful intimacy.
Quiet time together
Longing for touch that lingers only
One breath away.

That gaze between lovers
Of years or just moments.
Trust into passion
And jumping back again.
Conversation and wine
Tea and toast.
That tumble of choices and kisses
Of ideas, of words and song.

I am fortunate to have embraced it all
Yet remain desiring for more.
As much as my life is full
With sun and glorious moon,
My heart beats for me and for another
Always to join.

Please bring that reaching hand,
With mind, soul and heart,
That, like mine
Gazes and whispers yes.
Finding the real truth within that moment
When you think, when we think
Could we be? Did we just....



Thursday, February 1, 2018

Like Water Keep Moving

After a work trip away this week, I had a long journey back home which included a matrix of logistics that had my brain needing to think step by step, and, I will admit, my soul was heavy and complicated with new emotions and feelings that deserved attention.

As I drive, I relax and go with the rise and fall of my feelings. I feel the strength and the tears, the empowerment and the loss and I attempt to pay no attention to any of them, I need to just let them flow in and flow out.  Welcome them, see them, then let them go. Like water is in constant movement - I need to do the same. Trusting that what is true and healthy for me, will eventually settle.

The miles and hours pass, the various drop off and collection points happen. Stairs, boxes, petrol, airport, return rental car, call a Lyft driver, blah blah blah. I even notice the emptiness of the moving walkway at the airport and what it conjures for me inside. How my brain lingers on the loneliness and not the moving forward.

I'm finally at my last leg that will get me home and at that point - I am stopped in my tracks. My car has a flat battery and the occurrence of that had nothing to do with me. Not my fault.  An unintentional mistake by somebody else. A flat battery. Just at the point where I said, look at all of that I did carefully and simply, now I get to rest and let go. A dead battery gives me another thing to solve.
I can hear Alanis Morissette singing "Isn't that ironic, don't you think.?"

I had lead a wonderful workshop earlier that day, to set off a year of coaching and leadership to a determined group of people. One of their major concerns is how to keep the momentum going, and as I suggested the only way to do that is to simply make all of this good, healthy thinking a habit. Things can happen with thought, but, action is also required. Yes its hard work, and the brain tells us how challenging it all is - when truthfully we just need to breathe and keep moving. When we have that privilege we need to use it.

So, here's my point. There will be times we feel we have stopped. There will be times that we must slow down, as indeed there are times for the opposite, to rush, giddily forward and leap. All of it is always, absolutely always moving. We can't be afraid of that, actually we could gain hope from that. The classic saying of this too shall pass. And so it always does.

I watch the river flowing
An ocean gushing, swaying, pounding
Or as silk and settled
Even then it stirs.
Is it doing it because of the pull of gravity?
Or through pure magic unseen, unknown?

Like water is in constant movement - we need to do the same.

Happy February everyone & much love.

Monday, January 15, 2018

Inspired by

It is at times easier to sit in bitterness and hold onto regret and anger.
There is a fear in letting go. There is a fear in being an open heart.
What if I love again? What if it is mistreated, again.
What if I'm used, again? What if I'm lied to, again? What if I lose, again?

And what if I don't?
What if someone pays attention, spends time and opens with you? With me.
What if they don't just talk at you, but they take time to ask, to listen, to share?
Will we be brave enough to answer? Will we know what we want to say?

To base a life upon lies, denial, sadness is to limit our true expression and what I believe to be our honest soul.

I admire leaders (known and unknown) who keep stepping forward. It is not moving on,
it is moving toward.To turn all we learn into a positive strength.

As I pay respect to Martin Luther King today - I know I personally still have a dream,
and am fortunate and grateful for everything that supports me.For those of us lucky enough to be in that position, it is our responsibility to achieve all we can, in small and large ways.Who wouldn't want to share that gift?

There is power in silence while looking honestly into someones eyes.
There is power, strength, intelligence and sheer joy in love.
I know my truth and I long to share it. That act in itself is my courageous purpose.
I want that in my life.

I am inspired today by a man who did that. This is my truth, my freedom.