Three months, three weeks in Los Angeles

"How come I end up where I started? How can I end up where I want?"-"15 Steps" Radiohead

Today, for the first time in a long while, I stopped and exhaled...As I sat on the patio of The Alcove in Los Feliz (my favorite coffeeshop, and best place to people watch), I reflected on my time here in L.A.--I am left with a growing, unexpected inward groaning for Colorado--for its beauty, the inhabitants, my "chosen" family...my community...but I know that I'm not done here yet.

 I feel as though I've accomplished so little, and then remember that I am NOT the one in control. And, as I look back, so many amazing things have occurred--I am not the same chick who started this journey, and I am so beyond grateful for that. I have to be reminded, always daily and sometimes even moment by moment, that I can NOT take the reins--that in doing so, I miss out on life-changing small moments...through laughter and joy, through tears and confusion. I have the tendency to wear the social "mask" while I retreat to that convoluted and neurotic world inside of my head. I feel alone and scared and defeated and disconnected at times, and have to force myself from that warm, but frighteningly dark cave.

I can only take baby steps to the sharp ledges that lay before me--to those small areas illuminated by my flashlight o' faith, and actively choose to trust that as I land, the light will grow beyond where I stand. At times, I trip and have no idea where I'm going--I throw the equivalent of a toddler's spiritual tantrum as I ask "why" on so many levels.  But ultimately, I'm okay. Because I KNOW that I stepped in obedience, and I continue to strive to do so. Because I've come so far from my grabby hands attempt at control, and my trembling with fear. Because regardless of who sprints out of my life, and who edges their way in--regardless of personal and professional triumphs and resounding failures...I am Loved. Completely. I am Walked Beside. Thus, I am beyond okay...I am great....Below is an essay that I wrote two weeks into my time here in So Cal--although perhaps a touch melodramatic, it encapsulates where I was, and truthfully, where I am now. I long for my "home" in Colorado, and I long for my eternal "HOME" as well. However, I am NO longer where I started, and await, breathless, for the twists and turns that lay ahead.

Again, thanks for reading- still not sure of where to go with this "self-aware" blog stuff-hope it helps someone, on some level.

TWO WEEKS IN LOS ANGELES

I walk along Hill Avenue, cloaked in safety in the midst of this clear night in Los Angeles. The Hillside Strangler and the Night Stalker both had victims here in Eagle Rock thirty some years ago, but tonight I feel awash in security and peace as I pass those departing the Eagle Rock Music Festival. I think…about nothing, really. And everything. Simultaneously. I can spy the city lights sparkling their beckoning in the distance-to the glorious and phenomenal, meaningless and empty promises that they offer, and they are eclipsed by the shadows of the Sierra Nevadas, whispering mystery and magnificence. I am amazed that coming from Colorado, I can find such beauty here…but I do.

The cacophony of jazz, punk, indie folk, and rap bands blend together down the hill at the 14^th Annual Eagle Rock Music Festival, and the enthusiasm of the various fans gives me a weird, surreal sense of community. Life happens here. LIFE happens here. Amid the grime and plasticity and the silent screams of the broken lives that weave between the streets of Eagle Rock, Silver Lake, West Hollywood, North Hollywood, Burbank, Santa Monica, etc. LIFE still sparks. And I hope.

I hope for the realization of dreams long ago dashed to the rocks. I hope for igniting my talents. I long for God to whisper through me Creatively-shining a light on His Grace as I open my arms and give of myself. Far from those I love, from familiarity, from surroundings that nourish me, I do not feel alone. I feel those in my heart as if they stand beside me. I feel excited. And I feel at peace.

As I explored the festival earlier, I almost tripped over a homeless man, passed out, and sprawled, spread eagle, on the cracked pavement pounded by countless Festival attendees. It made my heart hurt-to see his brokenness exposed like that. To gaze upon his greased hair…his leather and paper-like skin, and to watch others turn their heads in embarrassment and ignorance. In that moment, I feel so ashamed that my head grows soupy and blazing hot, because I too…walk away. Not only because I feel helpless to help this man, but in fear-fear that if I linger too long, others will discover that he is a reflection of me-that we are the same, really. Behind my fierce intelligence, amazing beauty and wit-yeah, I cannot even finish this sentence…

In reality, the difference, the ONLY difference, between he and I is that I scream and cry for help to the Only One who can truly help me and I receive answers, as he wordlessly screams and cries to the world and is met with a resounding silence. Any attempts to offer a hand of any sort will leave my own loneliness and inadequacy raw and exposed for all to see. And they will point and laugh and spit and mock. In a way, this man is braver than I could ever be…exposure is the only gift that he has left to give and he offers it willingly.

I think about him as I grow closer to my roof and bed (well, air mattress, but still)-realizing that without my Trust in God, I am only a step away from mirroring this man. And I wonder. I wonder aloud in crazy lady (“bonkers” crazy) fashion, “What the hell am I doing here? Will God really grow my talents and use me here? Was I really stepping in obedience by coming? Or will I mark this as the countless time I have failed? That the carpet of life is yanked out from under me and I am left, once again, to futilely grab at the broken pieces and mend them in some haphazard fashion?”

But, I know this time is different. I know that I am finally following a call I received eons ago. I know that my God has me. I know that like Joshua, the “mighty warrior” of the Old Testament, God has led me. God has shown Himself to me in so, so many different ways. He bear hugs me and pats me on the back to reassure me, but like Joshua, I need to be told countless times, “Do NOT be discouraged. Do NOT be dismayed.” And that “The Lord (my) God will be with me wherever I go”. I need to be told countless times a day, as in my own attempt to take the reins of my life, I forget that One much, much greater has them, and will never let go.

When I tread the looping slope of Hill Avenue three months from now, I pray that I am still wrapped in the embrace of Trust and Truth and Grace. I will still remain a mere step away from my browned and leathered hurting homeless friend, but I pray that I will look at the time elapsed and see that God has held my hand and guided me every step of the way.

TIME IS A HUNGRY, SLACK-JAWED DOG (and other lessons learned in L.A.)

BE STILL

"TIME TICKS BY; WE GROW OLDER. BEFORE WE KNOW IT, TOO MUCH TIME HAS PASSED AND WE'VE MISSED THE CHANCE TO HAVE OTHER PEOPLE HURT US. TO A YOUNGER ME, THIS SOUNDED LIKE LUCK; TO AN OLDER ME, THIS SOUNDS LIKE A QUIET TRAGEDY." -"LIFE AFTER GOD" DOUGLAS COUPLAND

The addage my father shared with me, when I was debating whether or not to live and work in Amsterdam at the ripe old age of 22 (um, nope-not in a Red Light window, and not in a "kofeeshop";-)), was: "When you're young, you have the time and energy, but not the money. When you're middle-aged, you have the money and the energy, but not the time. And when you're old, you have the money and the time, but not the energy." The lesson I gleaned from these words was that when one is faced with a decision on where to purposefully invest life...on whether or not to embark on "great adventures"...or to spend time with friends and loved ones...to open up in vulnerability to the awesome love and heartaches of this world...is that there is always an excuse to keep one's self firmly anchored in the cesspool of stagnancy and safety. 

I currently swim in that murky middle ground somewhere between true youth and middle-age-most of my friends have settled down, birthed bundles of diaper-clad joy, have purchased homes...this has not been the case in my life as of yet, and although I sometimes bemoan that, it has allowed me to make choices and take risks that would otherwise be unavailable to me. But the one truth that keeps us collectively wringing our hands is that we all find that time is a great eater of forgotten promises, unmet goals, blinking and finding that another year has passed--time is NOT our friend and does not extend itself based on our wishes.
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I arrived in Los Angeles 13 weeks ago. Since then, I've experienced things great enough to awaken an urge to shout my "barbaric yawp from the mountaintops" and things difficult enough to make me want to hit myself with a two-by-four--just to dull the inner angst. But so many of the goals I felt confident I could tackle in that period still sit dusty on a shelf, and it feels as if I just unpacked, laid down for one restless sleep, and awoke to find myself in another season, another year. And I wonder how much more I could connect, and LIVE, and accomplish if I stopped allowing that hound dog of time to nip at my heels-if I turned and embraced it, and let it lick me in the face instead? We are made to learn our greatest lessons when we slow down...But I act as if the past does not exist, and like the future is still limitless-by hurrying and filling my days with fluff rather than substance, by saving resolution of the hard issues until...later, by not allowing myself to "be still". I guess this isn't as much of a lesson as it is a question I'm currently posing to myself...

LESSON 2- SIT BACK AND RELAX--ENJOY THE SHOW

One of the coolest things about living in this creative genius of a city is the "mellow" attitude that exudes from all corners and from all types of people. Whether or not it's pretense, the boulders of stress almost visualized on the citizens of East Coast cities, the purposeful isolated direction found in passers-by in the cities of the Rocky Mountains-none of that exists here. People are friendly and easy-going, and at least attempt to advertise that they sit back and enjoy the view once in awhile. Sure there's inner turmoil behind many of those masks, but the collective attitude of friendly mellowness is pervasive.

When I interned out here some odd years ago (more than two, less than twenty;-)), and lived in an apartment enclave known as a "mecca" for Young Hollywood, I found many of the "industry-types" that I met to be off-putting and insincere and full of personal agendas. I am not sure if it is just that I am older, and much more confident in who I am (although, overflowing with self-esteem? Yeah, not so much:-)), or if the culture here has shifted. But, I do not find that to be the case this go around. In the plethora of actors and directors and writers and musicians and producers whom I've met, I find down-to-earth, phenomenal souls who share my creative heartbeat. I've left each of these encounters feeling better for it, and it inspires me to keep creating-even in those moments of self-doubt. It makes me realize that whether I stay here, or journey back to Colorado there is absolutely NOTHING that I'd rather do, nothing else that makes me feel more as if I, individually, can make a difference in this world. And although I am impassioned about many things, a life without the ability to create an artistic output is not a life that I ever again want to live.

LESSON 3-THE HOMELESS TAKE DEBIT, AND I KNOW HOW THE "YEAH, YEAH, YEAHS" GOT THEIR NAME

I'm not sure if homelessness is any more pervasive here then it is elsewhere, but it is just as heartbreaking. Thus, I always feel my heart tighten and my thoughts jumble when I encounter a homeless person...anywhere. I'm never sure what to do--I know money, even for those who will not spend it on booze or drugs, is never the answer. And, it's easy for me to say "no", as I am sorely lacking in that department as well. However, I know that I am called to love these people, and acknowledge that we are all a part of the same sweaty, broken, heaping, beautiful mess called humanity. So, when I saw the same scruffy, toothless man begging for change at a highway on-ramp for three consecutive days, I decided that if he approached my car, I needed to acknowledge him-to express my sympathy for his plight, and to tell him that I'd pray for him. He did, and I did. As I spoke with him, I prayed that God would somehow use my words...to speak love...as a salve. Yup, I felt so f-ing holy while those golden words flowed from my lips. I told him that I did not have any money for him, however. "That's cool," he replied through cracked lips. "Um, I'll actually be here for another five hours, if you wanna go to an ATM and then come back." I felt holy when I told him to get a job, too (I didn't actually say this, but I thought it and other nasty, judgemental things). The homeless are more aggressive here. Again, not so much a lesson as an observation, I suppose.

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* When one thinks of Southern California venacular, the most immediate thoughts are of blonde, vaccuous surfers who spew the word "brah", and sometimes "bro", with intensity. This is rare, and for the most part, the So Calians speak like the rest of us ("the" highway names notwithstanding). However, the award for "Most overused phrase in the Southern Californian Venacular goes to..." 'Yeah, yeah, yeah'". As in, "'Hey, do you know Colton?' 'Oh, Colton! Yeah, yeah, yeah'," or, "'David, are you gonna eat the rest of that sandwich?' 'Huh? Oh! Yeah, yeah, yeah." One "yeah" would suffice, and no one can tell me why the three are forever linked...why not two? Or perhaps, four? 

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A disjointed departure for this blog to say the least, but it is where my jumbled mind and fingers led...As always, thanks for reading, and again, any and all feedback is welcome.

TRUST

"I still believe, though these cracks you'll see...when I'm on my knees I still believe."- "Holland Road"-Mumford & Sons

The father and his three small children lumbered down the rolling hill in back of the lake house, eager to plunge into the warm, crystalline waters that beckoned like a loving mother calling her children home. The kids giggled as they dropped towels, tripped, and rolled toward the precipice that hung over the water. The old, rambling house-more of a cabin, really, did not have a dock or a pier-the only way to enjoy the lake was to jump from a gnarled old, decayed and splintered oak tree that snarled from the precipice.

As all four neared the edge, the barrel-chested father effortlessly dove in. The children held their breath, as they anxiously awaited his surfacing. He emerged, laughing and looked to his offspring with kindness and a desire for them to join him. The oldest boy, a weed of an eleven-year old-all limbs and blond hair that grew unruly inches with each waking moment-pressed his back up against the tree in fear.  "Come in, son," the father bellowed in laughter, "It's amazing! Trust me-I won't let anything happen to you." The son's fear melted into courage, and he jumped. Although he skinned his knee as he landed on a mossy rock, he threw his hands around his father's neck, and tittered with excitement. 

The nine year old boy, a condensed version of the eldest, took his brother's place at the tree, and stood anxiously. "How do I know I won't get hurt?!", he demanded. "You don't," his father replied gently, "But know that if you do, I will make it better. And, the recovery from your injury will help you to become less afraid-of jumping again, and of swimming through this beautiful lake." Unconvinced, the boy backed up to the split in the tree, as dirt and rubble launched carelessly from the hillside.

The father, still smiling at his scared son, turned to his brother. "I think I may need your help with this one," he whispered mischieviously. "But, you're our dad? If you can't make him do it, how can I help? I was scared too-I only got in because I stopped looking down, and just looked at you. If I didn't see you, I'd still be up there too," the boy replied.  The father gave his son a playful noogie, and threw his arm around his shoulder, "That's just what will convince him. You're right-I'm 'dad'. He thinks that I'm not scared of anything! But when he knows that you were just as afraid, and that you now could never imagine not enjoying this lake, he'll be convinced...that he'll be okay...that the jump will be well worth it."

And so, the boy shared his fear with his younger brother, and smiled as he told him, "You're my brother. I love you and won't let you drown. And once you're in here, you've got Dad! He'll look out for us both, and will help me to look out for you." The nine-year old shook his head in hesitation, but as his father opened his arms toward his son, the boy was no longer afraid, and in he went. 

The trio splashed and horsed-around, as the youngest, a wisp of a seven year-old girl, made her way to the tree's base. She nervously chewed on the end of her braid, and looked down toward the water. "Come in!," the brothers cried in unison. "It's so much fun, Sam! And Dad won't let anything happen to you!" In a split second of bravery, the girl edged to the base of the tree, but when she saw her father and brothers moving further along in the water, her fear erupted like a volcano, and she jumped up to the hanging branch of the oak, where she hung, clinging to its peeling bark.

Her brothers pled with, taunted, and finally, cajouled her, but continued to play and swim. Her father gingerly glided toward the bottom of the precipice, and closer to his daughter. "Ah, Sam. Trust me. You and your brothers are in this together-they'll help you, and I will protect you." Sam began to cry-a heart-rending, snot-producing cry. "They WON'T help me! They-they said they would, but as soon as I needed them, they forgot about me! They're having fun, and they don't care that I'm scared. They don't care that I'm alone." 

The father made his way to the steep embankment, and began the climb up toward his little girl. She continued to cry, and began to lose her hold on the tree, cutting her hands and knees in the process. So, consumed with fear, she concentrated on her grip and did not see her father coming behind her. "I-I wanna come in, but I'm scared. And I need you, Daddy-I can't do this all by myself!" The snot continued to fly, the tears cascading, and  Sam concentrated all of her energy on holding on to the gnarled, old and dead tree, as her father appeared behind her. Sam's misery consumed her, and she still could not see him. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I wanna trust you, but I'm scared I'll get hurt. I'm scared no one will help me. I'm scared you'll leave me alone to drown."

At that moment, the father reached the tree and tenderly grabbed his daughter as he bathed her in kisses, and cried with her. "It's okay, Sam. It's okay. You're my daughter-I love you more than anything in this world, and though your brothers may mess up from time to time, and may leave you-I will never, ever leave you. And I want you to be able to enjoy the lake, too!" And with that, he hugged and squeezed her, and, placing her on his back, dove back into the lake.

It is a %$#@ cold winter in Los Angeles

Well, 2013 is upon us...fifteen years ago, I would have assumed I'd be in my hovercraft with my beautiful, gloriously witty, artistic, godly, adventurous and rugged, studly husband (okay, honestly? still would love to meet him), along with our 2.5 kids, en route to Jupiter to direct and star in my feature film, using one camera that shoots simultaneous angles and acts as a handheld, static, dolly, etc. um...yeah, that's a complete fabrication, but as we imagine life, and project our futures, with time it becomes painfully obvious that the winding path will take us in directions, and through detours, that we have never imagined.

My sandpapered eyes and aching muscles are still in recovery mode from New Year's Eve-not because I "partied it up", or bonded with loved ones...but as a result of working the bar gig that I took to supplement my writing income. 'Never thought I'd say that again...it is weirdly, illogically okay, however.  Re-embracing the creative path that has always ignited my passion, placed the fire in my belly, and stood as my true calling means that in humility, I must open myself up to whatever will enable me to fully realize and utilize my talents in ways that will best serve others. This bramble-covered rocky hike began two years ago, and my oh my, what a crazy trek up the mountain.

In the past two years... I have traversed the country-from the protective,velvet towers of the Rockies, to the Atlantic, to the suburbs of Washington, DC, back to the "purple mountain majesties", and now, the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles, while I escape to the Pacific to inhale, and gingerly dip my toes in the cooling waters of perspective... I quit my well-paying job, gave up my apartment, left those whom had become my "chosen" family...saw and re-connected with old friends along the way, spent months in the nostalgic gaudiness of my childhood vacation spot on Maryland's Eastern Shore...worked a film festival...got paid to write a feature film...got behind the camera/ in a director's booth for the first time in years...re-ignited my love for/ hobby of photography...hunkered down in the eye of a hurricane...grew deep relationships with the small, bottomless pits of wonder that are my nephews and nieces...spent time facing and resolving childhood issues/ grew closer with my parents...imprisoned in my car, watched in horror as apocalyptic-like flames licked my beloved mountain town...had 9.11 flashbacks as chunks of molten ash fell on my car, and cell phone lines were cleared for emergency use only...helped those who experienced huge loss sift through the ashes of their lives-both literally and figuratively-in ways that grew me and taught me the true meaning of love and hope and strength ...discovered that yes, it is important to purposefully reach out to new and untried people and as a result, found unexpected amazing friendships...grew closer with old friends....drifted away from others...realized that my U-Haul of a romantic past notwithstanding, love may still find me...drank, in full, the beauty in the nature surrounding me-marveled as I ran, breathless up and down the sides of mountains, and in various 5Ks while realizing that metaphorically, this is also how I am called to live life.

I've laughed so hard that I've peed myself, and wept so deeply that I thought my heart would break...I've been insecure, self-loathing, and trembling with fear, and I have been confident, at peace, hopeful, and full of love...I've wondered if God walks beside me, and in those very moments, have felt Him scoop me into His arms...

Thus, as I sleep on a deflating air mattress on a rock hard wooden floor, and I spend my hours writing for a pittance, or working grueling late night hours...as I miss Colorado and its beauty, and my friends, and my community there...it's all okay! I know this moment is temporary, and my time here in LA, and here on Earth may be also...But I've seen glimpses of what this future holds, I walk tentative steps wherever I see a sliver of light illuminating the path, and it is...a....maz...ing. And I just want to be a part of it. I want to take a swan dive into the sea of Life, and know that there will be moments where I cut myself on the corral, inhale too much water and choke up phlegm (yum!), befriend a dolphin that transforms into a shark...but those things are what make the lulling roar of the waves, the cleansing of the water, the colors of the schools of fish all the more beautiful...and, just when I think I'll drown, I get thrust back to the surface and regain my breath.

Wow-this is so not what I intended to write today-I was imagining a post full of biting and clever wit on the ins and outs of LA (maybe that's the next one?) but it's where my God and my fingers took me... Is this just sanctimonious drivel? I certainly hope not. As always, thanks for reading, and I appreciate any and all feedback-blogging is a foggy world for me, and I am still just trying to feel my way through it.
                                                          10,000 REASONS