december 14

i sat in tom's office yesterday morning weeping gently.

my hands tucked between my legs. sitting on the unforgiving brown couch, next to the worn velvet pillow.

tom sat somewhere between to-the-side-of and behind the large three-sided desk.

we were in the room i don't care for. it's too large--the room--with a mammoth, faux-wood-panneled desk, over-saturated light, and a scent of ketchup that's sometimes-there, sometimes-not.

but there i sat. weeping. gently.

i feel like i'm banging my head against a glass wall, i told tom. i feel like things can't continue on this way. something has to change. my life is stagnant and i'm so filled with the need for change that i might just explode. but i can't imagine that anything will change. ever. 


it's near then, tom calmly said.

his words hung in the air for a moment. buoyant and light. tangible almost. i wanted to reach out and pocket them. but there was no need. because they were true. as soon as he spoke them i knew them to be true. and truth can't be collected in one's pockets. it simply is.

why do i always cry now, tom? i pressed on. is it the residual of banging my head too many times against a glass wall?


it's good. it means you're experiencing things. deeply. allowing yourself the experience. probably in part what makes you a good actor. 


ah yes, that acting thing that i don't really talk about.

tom, sometimes i ask my gut things, i admitted sheepishly. and i know to listen to the answer that comes back. always, i must listen. because my gut is the wisest and truest part of me. it is the part of me that's lived a thousand lives already, that knows everything, that sees everything, that sees the end before it's even begun. it is my inner shaman. it is where God resides. my gut is a little piece of divinity. people say true love resides in the heart, but i know better. and so, well, Tom, i've been resisting asking my gut this  question--this question of "should i act" because i'm afraid of the answer. i'm afraid it will say no. and that will be that. 


it's a funny thing when you're life turns out different then you thought. a hard thing. when everything you've planned for shifts and morphs and you fall down the rabbit-hole. and it's terrifying. and not so nearly mystical as alice led you to believe. and you wonder if it's time to move on or circle round and there are so many options and that hall with doors is long and and those doors are aplenty and you can't imagine which one to walk through so you just stand there. frozen. terrified.

i asked the question recently, tom. whether or not i should act? i asked my gut. and the thing is... it didn't say no. it didn't return with the verdict i lived in fear of and yet...it didn't really give an answer at all. it told me i was afraid. and that that fear was getting in the way. but that that was okay. that i'd figure it out and it'd be okay. i'd be okay. 


and tom looked at me, kinda smiled and said, it believes in you so much it doesn't have to answer. it believes in you to the point that it'll go wherever you choose. it actually believes you can do anything--acting or not. 


i looked at tom in all of his infinite wisdom, felt fresh tears hovering at their own brink, turned my head and looked straight ahead, and said, well, that's a lovely thought. 


when what i really meant was well, that's everything isn't it. 


graduating from college was an exercise in losing faith. losing that little kernel of belief in my own ability. and as well as i am and far as i've come, i've yet to regain that.

so imagine my surprise when sitting in tom's office yesterday i realized it wasn't lost at all. it was there. patiently waiting for me to awaken to it.

and imagine my surprise when i came to understand that the one person i'd spent all this time fighting against, railing against--myself--simply loved me all the while--never grew impatient or frustrated. never accused me of being selfish or cruel. the one person who's love was infinite and almighty. who loved me with the power and force of the heavens.

alright. mark it down. december 14, 2010: the day i realized everything was gonna be just fine.