Loving is a clash of lightning bolts and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey. - Pablo Neruda
I spent the evening surrounded by members of my theatre family. The directors, cast members, and my date for the evening were all people I worked with in past shows. The process of putting on a show often creates a special bond between the players. It's quite something. I appreciate all of the hilarious memories we share and the understanding of what it takes to go through the process.
It brings me to an analogy that a lot of actors in our community use. The front row concept. You know, when you look at your life like a theatre and determine who you're putting in your front row, who's in the balcony, and who is simply banned from the whole building. Today I'm grateful for a theatre full of love and support. The show is what it is because of each and every person in those red velvet seats. "If only I could have eyes for you, but then I'd have eyes for two."
Angela Healy's lyrics resonate inside me as I listen to her song, Soleil Lady Lay, a song featured in my film, Crosstown. As I lay in my bed (which is also featured in my film) I remember being on tour with Angela last year. We spent much of our time on the road discussing love. We were both on our way to see lovers. Lovers in a dangerous time. Past, present, future time. Falling for two people at once was one theme I explored in my film. A theme I've probably explored in my life as well. Sometimes the possibilities and choices in love and life can be bewildering. I think that by following our truest instincts, rather than measuring the "what if"s, we get closer to love. The love that drives us, the love that holds us in that peaceful place. When people know you, when they really know you, it enriches your life so much. One of my best friends took me out for a belated birthday dinner tonight. We went to a charming Italian place with cozy booths, delectable food, and a hilarious server (that I dated over a decade ago) who entertained us with outlandish humour.
Through all the stories and laughter, the shared experiences and awkward memories, the fun trips planned for the future, I see the beauty in our connection. We connect over good food, visiting new restaurants, watching good theatre, and taking trips around this beautiful province. Within those activities is a bond of trust and familiarity, a relationship different from each of my other friendships. We can berate each other about who we're dating without getting offended, praise each other for our virtues without getting big heads. As I get older (my sister likes to point out I am no longer in my early thirties but well into the mid-thirties) I appreciate each of my friendships for their uniqueness. We each play different roles in each others lives. I remember as a youngster, I would tell the exact same story to ten friends in one day. It was exhausting. Now I find I may have one person to discuss interior design with (wow, I really am getting older and more bourgeois) and one person to discuss lascivious dating details with. Basically, if you're reading this, thank you for being a friend. As I was walking home from an audition this afternoon, I saw a seal pup napping on the steps at Olympic Village. Just chilling on the slab. I walk by there all the time and I've never seen any seals. I sat on the bridge above and watched the little one for a long time.
Napping is difficult with so many distractions around - joggers, trucks, and angry crows. After a while, two men on the bridge across the way noticed the seal. They were out collecting dirty needles. For work, that is, not just for fun. As they gradually came closer and closer, the little one slipped back into the water and swam away. We were concerned that we didn't see a mother seal in the vicinity. The group decision was to call the Marine Mammal Rescue Centre. I made the call and soon learned that seal pups are actually weaned from their mothers after three to five weeks. Pupping season is June to July so it's normal for youngsters to be on their own by this time of year. This little one looked healthy, albeit a little groggy, so nothing seemed to be wrong. I used to volunteer at the Vancouver Aquarium and interact with a lot of marine creatures. I also spent half my degree in biology classes and half my childhood following bugs. Although the natural world has always been a focus for me, lately I've been consumed with a lot of human constructs. Projects, schedules, deadlines, worries. It's nice to get in touch with the rest of the living creatures around us. These interactions can create such peace. Thank you, seal friend, for inspiring me to take a breather and rest more often. Who doesn't love a good nap? Love can be complex,
a spinning Rolodex, pining for your ex, messy makeup sex, causes and effects, clashing intellects, endless disconnects. or Love can be simple. Four months of learning and planning.
A team of thirty dedicated people. Fourteen fast-paced hours. Endless gratitude. I love film. "Approach everything with infinite love and infinite gratitude."
This summer I ran into an old neighbour. I hadn't seen her for eight years. We had one of those talks that reaffirms the good in the world. In that conversation, she told me the principles she lives by now, in her senior years. One of them is her quote above. On the eve of our film shoot, I'm following her words. I think it's especially fitting that the evening I saw that neighbour was my co-star's birthday party. I brought her words back to our picnic we were having in the park; now I will carry them through to our piece of art. Sometimes my worries get the best of me. Sometimes my mind races into the future. Sometimes I feel like there's too much going on. Reality check: we're living in the present moment. And we're all in this together. A dear friend had this tattooed on her arm. It's something her mother writes to her at the end of each letter. The icing on the cake is that the tattoo is also in her mother's handwriting. I took this photo during our most recent visit and I see it every day on the lock screen of my phone. Who says that I have to do everything on my own? The last few weeks in particular have taught me just how much I can trust in my community. It's a beautiful thing. Thank you. Something became apparent to me today. When I am facing a big challenge, I look for support from a romantic partner. Fair enough. The issue is that when I don't have a partner, I seek that energy from someone that I've been with in the past or some new substitute.
Yes, I get incredible amounts of support from my loving friends and family but there's something different about being wrapped in someone's arms and being told it's going to be okay. Sharing the experience; sharing the burden, as it were. Having just gone through a breakup, I'm still getting in touch with who I am on my own. I'm collecting the pieces of me that I've shared. It's not fair to transfer those pieces onto anyone else in order to fill some kind of need for support. It's time to celebrate the ability I have to support myself. My cousin posted a beautiful piece about parenthood today on her blog, Spokesmama. It got me thinking about all the little ones in my life. I got the chance to meet her baby last week, when she was five days old. It was kind of like holding a little rabbit. Without all that fur and the big feet. There's nothing like holding a baby in your arms. The simplicity of a newborn's life (eat, sleep, cry, poop, repeat) inspires me to take a new perspective on mine. To focus on the basics. To take myself less seriously. The potential a baby has is also inspiring. Who will they be when they grow up? Where will they live? Will they be funny? Courageous? Creative? I think that can be metaphor for any of us. If it's time for a new life change, what kind of potential do you have? Who can you be in this new career? In this new relationship? In this new chapter of being you? When I visited my cousin I also got the chance to read to her three-year-old. One of the books we read was Oh, The Places You'll Go. As I narrated the Dr. Seuss classic with zest, the story brought a few tears to my eyes. I realized that just as I was encouraging the young boy beside me to take life on with freedom and adventure, I was also speaking to myself. Oh, the places you'll go. I do a lot of writing. I write scripts, I write songs, I write rants in journals, I write lists for projects I'm working on. And of course there's the countless e-mails, texts, and social media posts. Recently, I was taking a look at my writing and reflecting on what I do in the world. Yes, I'm an actor and a singer and an uncle and a friend and a volunteer, and, and, and... but what is it that I really do?
The answer lives in the connections. Connections between me and the people I interact with in each role. Whether I'm laughing with my nephew, acting in front of the camera, or reading a story to a group of seniors, I'm striving toward a deeper connection. And at the root of that is love. I've decided to embark on a new project. I'm going to write about love for a hundred days. Romantic love, platonic love, hot chocolate love, film love, or unhealthy love. All of it. It may include pictures; it may just be one word. At the end of the hundred days - December 26th - I'll see if there are any changes in me. I also intend to take a trip at the end of the year so it seems especially fitting that I have my heart set on the city of love - Paris. I invite you to read my musings and encourage you to let out your own. We are, after all, connected. |