.

.

.

she said, ‘you’re just like a dictionary.’

.

he said, ‘you mean, i’m wordy?’

.

‘no,’ she answered, and laughed.

.

‘you give meaning to my life.’

.

.

.

I’m trying to redevelop content for my new website. Since I’m in so much transition mentally right now, it’s been reflected in my process for the new direction of my business. I want to shift the website so that it reflects more where I am going than where I have been. Starting with my bio, under “About Me”, it is so interesting to see that ever since I started this path five years ago, my accomplishments are no longer easily listed in a list format, as had been the case for the prior twentysomething years. That’s interesting that things don’t read like a checklist anymore, because I haven’t been living my life that way. I’ve tried, don’t get me wrong. But it just hasn’t been that way. My life has guided me in a different direction. First I have to embrace that.

The second main area of fogginess right now is figuring out what exactly I want people to contact me for. What is the work I want to be doing? It was easy to write the website for my school because it was clear that people with children ages 2.5 and up would come to me to learn about something to do with violin training. Ironically, nowhere on that site were the words “violin lessons” because that’s not what I was offering. I was offering something bigger, but it was never quite articulated on the site. Pictures are worth a thousand words, so I made a video. This helped me for several years, along with our live concerts.

But now the video is out of date with my current teaching style and the focus of my efforts. I am at another juncture of getting up to date with what I’ve learned so far. This leads me to ask the next important marketing question which is, “Who are My People?” Meaning, who do I expect to find me based on the way I describe myself and what I have to offer? I’ve always been very conflicted about this, going back to my match.com profile several years ago (one example of my trying to live that “check the box” lifestyle).

As I’ve thought about this question, I find myself imagining who I think my people “should” be – meaning, people who are similar to me demographically – instead of looking at who my people really are. All of the people who are currently in my life – both business and friendship – are reflections of who My People are. I started writing down attributes describing some of the people I’ve experienced the best energy with. But then I realized that there are people out there who can learn from what I have to offer but are very different from me. I can’t limit My People just to the kinds of people I might invite over to my house for a cup of chai. I can’t limit My People just to the people who are as devoted to yoga as I am. These attributes that I am targeting are very specific, but the types of people who possess the attributes can come from a very diverse cross-section of the culture.

One question I keep coming back to is Asian-American women. Where are we? Who are we talking to about our lives? Where are the circles of truth and listening and love and crying and mentorship that are so necessary for a woman to step into her own power? Who is the “Oprah” for Asian-American women? Who is giving voice to the internal conflicts many of us face, between tradition and freedom, our responsibilities and our deepest desires? Who is asking the tough questions to get us to think about what America has done for our families and what it has done to our families? Who is helping our understanding and acceptance of what is lost and what is gained with each generation? This is what I need for healing. Is anyone else out there ready to listen?

I forgot the time
I forgot the present

I have no memories

Only thoughts

I worry of the future
I worry of the past
Troubles upon troubles

Forever are cast

Gone now are seconds and minutes
Hours and days

Years hold fears
Time holds tears

Tired and regretful
Panicked and fretful

Life is gone and left us in shadow
Yearning for now
Not for tomorrow

Turn around and around
A clocks hand and bell sound
Dizzy and loud
Time holds wickedly proud

Time is home to many a prison
Light once forced to comply
Since it has broken through,
Light is fugitive and eternally new

Light has gone to the end
Time has found no new friend

They will meet again
At a point where they are one
All is one at the beginning
Centered they see
One in one will they be

Eternally

Endlessly Free

]]> http://waterfriend.wordpress.com/2009/11/27/undivided-punjab/ Fri, 27 Nov 2009 21:36:36 +0000 waterfriend http://waterfriend.wordpress.com/2009/11/27/undivided-punjab/

My imagination is set on a voyage to the past.

 I can see the Athenian thinkers and artists mingling with their Indian counterparts, following the occupation of the Punjab by Alexander the Great. It was a rare coming together of the East and the West, on equal terms, because the Greek conqueror was a visionary, who appreciated nobility, without stamping any one as an enemy.

The following centuries saw an awakening, nowhere else witnessed in the history of the world. The two races produced a hybrid, as marriage between them was encouraged by the Emperor. The plains watered by the R. Sindhu (Indus) and its five tributaries, gained the name panch ab or PUNJAB which produces the food grains, enough to feed the whole of north India!

 What a pity, it is unlawfully divided along communal lines, by short sighted politicians.

This is what Phill & Mike think I should do, because they are jokers.  Seriously speaking though, I am considering getting a tattoo.  It’s something I have always wanted to do, but it’s also something I have been somewhat reluctant to do because in the past, I’ve had ideas for designs and then changed my mind for a variety of reasons – I think that it is something that you really have to think through carefully.  Is it going to hold its meaning through the years? Is it in a place where you can hide it when necessary (e.g. job interview, angry grandparent)?  Is it personal and unique, or something that every Tom Dick and Chavvy has? Will the colours fade and the tattoo look tacky in time? These are all primary considerations for me – the pain doesn’t bother me at all (I have a high pain threshold, and I have had multiple injections in the roof of my mouth – WITH A NEEDLE before you get any ideas! – so I am not really afraid of needles nor pain. I can stand it).

So with that all said, I’ll unveil what I’m thinking off.  At the top of my right collarbone / shoulder, about an inch high (maybe less, but about that – so fairly discreet), I want an A. Because that is the first letter of my name.  Simple, personal (I am unlikely to change my name) and effective!  But not just an ordinary A! I toy about with various ways of writing my name during moments of boredom, and a few years ago I found a way of writing the ‘A’ that I like:

Ok, so you need to imagine this with the lines being straight as opposed to wiggly and uneven, and it would just be the solid black in the middle without the feathered edges, but you get the idea.  I think it looks edgy without trying too hard, and it is personal and unique without being outlandish or silly.  Simple, but effective – in other words.  On top my shoulder, its somewhere I can keep it hidden from people (and easily show-offable), but it’s not in your typical lower back / upper back / bicep region which could be passé / common.  I am quite excited – although it’s still only a plan I have and I haven’t made any kind of appointment, I know exactly where I would go to get it done, who to speak to (friends have recommended me), and Mike says that he’s up for going with me.  So it may well happen! Plus, since it’s just in black and not too big, it shouldn’t be too expensive.  I like this plan.

I just hope that a) when my mother / grandmother eventually sees it (which I know ultimately will happen), they won’t freak out too much; b) they will respect my right to choose to do what I want with my body.  I won’t feel guilty about getting it done, but I will feel sad about hurting their feelings, so I just hope that they will be mature enough to not let their feelings get hurt c) I don’t think it can be confused with anything stupid that I have somehow overlooked.  So it’s all systems go!  What do you think?

     This Thanksgiving was a very non-traditional one for us.  It was the first year that I’ve ever been without my parents, since my dad’s immune system’s too weak to be around the kids.  Luckily, our good friends came to the rescue and invited us to their house.  Our kids were super pumped to hang out all day with kids their own age, and we were grateful not to have to do all the cooking!  

     We no sooner than got in the door before our kids were off and running with our friends’ kids.  They completely disappeared for a good two hours before we even saw a glimpse of them.  We took advantage of that kid-free time by snacking and chatting and drinking cocktails, while keeping an eye on the ginormous bird in the oven. However, it’s always been my experience that when kids are out of sight for too long, there’s most likely something fishy going on.  I decided to try and track them down before someone lost an eye or set the house on fire.

     I finally found them down in the basement all the way back in the storage room.  When I walked into the room, I first saw my friends’ little boy sitting in his baby brother’s swing all wrapped up in a blanket  (oh, and did I mention that he’s FOUR YEARS OLD?!) I then saw my son walk across the room wearing only his pants, since the top part of him was completely naked.  And when I asked why on earth he was going topless, I was simply told by my daughter that the boys were being cavemen.  Well, that made perfect sense, then.  All prehistoric dudes strut their stuff in Gap corduroy pants and chill out in infant swings.  Since nobody was bleeding and nobody was crying, I left the naked caveman and went back to join the rest of the adults.

     When the food was finally ready to go, the boys put their clothes back on so we could all chow down on a G-rated turkey dinner.  All in all, it was a fun Thanksgiving spent with some of our favorite friends.  The kids clearly enjoyed using their wild imaginations, while the big people enjoyed throwing back a few too many drinks. Although it wasn’t quite the same as spending time with my family, I suppose it was the second best thing. Sometimes traditions have to be tweaked in order to roll with the punches that life throws your way. And I’m thankful that I’ve got such amazing people in my life who protect me from those nasty left hooks.

If someone asked you, “how old are you?” How would you respond?

In my current world of yuppies, fancy coffee shops and gadgets, I have often met people who answered that question with a gaze that seemed to say, “Is that even a question?” It’s true. Once a girl I met just stared at me when I asked that question. Another guy guffawed with gusto when I asked his age.

I really couldn’t help but wonder why they tried to avoid such a question as simple as how many earth rotations around the sun you have experienced. Why do people hide their age?

I have not found the answer to the question. Instead I have found out that when you reach past 20, everyone else beyond that age is the same age as you. Seldom do I find the “kuya” and “ate” among my yuppie workmates or church mates unless they were really way older like past 30 or more. I don’t mean to say that respect among co-workers or co-Christians is gone, but that distinction of a 1 or 2 year age gap disappears and, most often than not, negligible.

You may often hear about stories in the workplace where most co-workers would call someone “kuya” or “ate” and yet learn that the person they are addressing was in fact younger than they are. Sometimes it’s the other way around. It tells us that people have only been assuming their co-workers age and that they absolutely had no idea of their co-workers age. It happens most of the time that people are sometimes hesitant to ask something as simple as another persons age for fear of getting a blank stare.

So what’s behind the age secrecy? Call me a noob, I really don’t know.

Yet most people don’t seem to notice that age is relative. According to one worker at Princeton University, “Not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted counts.” The man who said that was the one who started the atomic bomb among other things. He goes by the name of Albert Einstein.

It’s true though. Not everything that can be counted counts. Like our age.

I talked with a nutritionist friend today. Of course, when talking to a nutritionist, you’re talk would be the real veggie-tales. Talks about how fruits and vegetables are good and the like were inserted every now and then. I don’t mind actually. But then he started talking about health age. Say what!?

Health age. I really didn’t get what he meant but somehow it’s like determining your body’s age based on your health and how old you could get at the rate you’re living. Now isn’t that’s something short of predicting the future! Google the term and you’d find countless of site trying to figure out your health age.

It’s really funny. Since we, speech pathologists, also deal with another kind of age – Speech and language age. It’s basically how old you’re speaking compared to your chronological age. It’s a fad among parents to compare those test results – at least I guess it’s a fad. I really don’t know. But what I’m sure of is that it’s important to find out a child’s language age in order to set a reference point when doing therapy. Such is my life now. But I’m getting off track.

If we deal with language age, occupational therapists and psychologists concern themselves with cognitive age. I think there’s also a gross motor and fine motor age among other professionals but that’s gonna make more people dizzy when reading this. Try moving on to the next professional and you get another classification of age based on something or another. Maybe a computer-literacy age or house construction strength age. The possibilities are endless.

In the end, your age doesn’t matter anymore. So why still cower and try to hide it from everyone? Age is after all relative. Most of the time you don’t think and act your age so what’s the use of hiding your age?

So how old are you?

Dear Santa,

I know that you don’t exist, but I wanted to write you a letter because I figured you might be lonely in your non-existence.  I know you have your other imaginary friends like the tooth-fairy and Batman, but it must be hard, even so, for you to recognize that you are simply a figment of the collective imagination of countless children and marketing firms.

For Christmas this year, I know that you won’t be coming down the chimney into my fireplace, because, well, I don’t have a fireplace, and besides, you aren’t real.  So I hope that you don’t mind that I plan to eat any cookies and drink any milk that I find on Christmas Eve.

If you do plan on leaving any gifts under my tree this year, just label them “From Mom and Dad”, because I know that’s who they’re really from anyways.

Santa, don’t be too hard on yourself.  I’m sure that you must just beat yourself up sometimes wishing that you were really real.  But think of all the stress you would face if you were real.  I mean, visiting all  the houses of all the good boys and girls in a single evening would be pretty exhausting, even if flying reindeer did exist.  It’s really a good thing that you’re not real, because flying reindeer don’t exist, and you’d probably wear yourself out in looking for them…especially one with a shiny red nose!

So my advise to you is:  take it easy this year!  You’re not real, so why pretend that you are?  You’re only imagining your own existence, so there is no reason to stress about all of your imaginary tasks.  Take Christmas off for once.  You’ll see, nothing at all will change.  Nobody will notice that you didn’t come…and all the kids and marketing executives will assume that you really did come (even though they presents they got actually came from their moms and dads).

Your Friend,

The Easter Bunny.

So who watches TV anymore? I know that I feel guilty for not using my mind and sitting in front of the box, being stupified into comfortably numbness, for the longest time now.
Why turn on the idiot box when you can turn the internet on, create, collaborate and have fun with people from all over the world. Theres where the inspiration is!

Some real viable entertainment is out there being produced free of charge. Its exciting, all you have to do is put your hand up and people will work with you on inspired ideas-Turn an idea into real entertainment. Ten  to fifteen years ago, this sort of thing was just a dream someone dreamt. Now its reality.

Music is being produced just waiting and begging to be inserted into something creative. Best thing of all its skills being given to other skills to put together as entertainment, payment is, more exposure. No money has been exchanged between all whom are working on an idea.

No wonder the big entertainment companies want to limit what you can see free on the internet. These days if you see it on TV, then its second hand. It was hot when it was viewed online!

Just today I made a discovery referred to me by FAB-Fataussiebarstard of youtube. A channel called Jimmy Hook. He has a real knack of telling a story and has put together a series that spans 14 episodes so far. It features youtube account holders who want to be a part of something creative. Let me tell you, it is creative and very well done.

So the next time you go to turn the TV on, do yourself a favor, turn to the internet instead and dust off those creative aspirations. Get involved!!

Thanks for reading and checking out my blog. Stay creatively you, BC.

PS. Here is one chick who inspires me every time she performs, Mysti Mayhem.

I dream.  Vividly.  Sometimes I write them down but most often I forget and their images  dissipate minutes after waking up.  Some dreams are bizzare. Some poignant. Most are merely random in nature.

When I was in junior high I dreamt my mom died and came back as a fish.  We kept her in a tank in the dining room and every day when my sisters and I came home from school we’d tap on the glass and say “mom, we’re home!”  I don’t remember feeling sad about it all because Mom was still in my life,  albeit in a fishy form. I don’t think any “expert” in dream analysis could ever come up with an explanation for this one but it probably had to do with being 13 and wanting to keep the power my mother had over me contained in an itty bitty glass bowl.

Several dreams have been covert and adventuous in nature like these two:

One, where I’m hunting Nazis in old folks homes in Afghanistan.  I find a few.  Can’t remember what I did with them once I found them but I knew they were going to get what was coming to them and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

And the other :  my job, if I chose to take it (and I did) was to defuse a bomb at the bottom of a swimming pool.  I was doing a fine job until my sister kept phoning my cell wondering “when I was picking her up to go shopping.” HELLO I’m defusing a bomb here!!

A dream that always makes me contemplative is the one where I had to carve feet for one of my students.  Shaye was a new student and he had such sad , haunted eyes.  I never knew his story but I had a feeling it was one a young kid shouldn’t have to live. The feet I carved were made of a rich red /brown mahogany wood.  They were beautiful and smooth and perfect.  Then, in this same dream, an older lady  unknown to me took the feet, looked at them and told me to “carve scars and blisters and veins because life is a journey we walk that strengthens our soles/souls” (I knew she meant both).

My favorite dreams of all are  my flying dreams.  The dreams are always the same.  All I have to do is move my arms in a swimming motion (usually a side stroke or a breast stroke) and I’m soaring above the ground.  I love these dreams but they are few and far between.  I wish I could conjure up my flying dreams whenever I sink into sleep.  In them, I have complete control over where I go, how high up I go, and how fast I go.  I think this dream is wishful thinking on behalf of my subconscience.  Once in awhile it would be nice to be in total control, over events that come my way.

Some people have told me they never dream, or if they do, they never remember if they had.  There are some mornings (especially after a night of hunting Nazis) where I wish my brain could shift into screen saver mode in order to conserve neuronic energy, but most often I’m kinda happy to experience the impossible and have stories to tell.

Are you a dreamer?

There’s this thing on a certain social networking site, known as Facebook, where one writes up 25 things about themselves and sends the list to 25 people. The idea is to share intimate, less known facts about yourself with people of your choice. Instead of writing down my 25 things and posting it on the above mentioned website, I thought I’d toss them here and make a salad out of it.

1. Almost every morning, as I dress up my bottom, I glance in the mirror and smile with approval at the sight of my profile.

2. The more I cook, the more appreciation I gain for my mother’s culinary talents. I didn’t realize how good of a cook she was until I tried the trade myself. The goal is NOT to be able to make a few dishes I can later alternate when making dinners for my family. Instead, I cook to free my soul and go to heaven for having discovered and exploited my potential.

3. There’s something about Jason’s nipples I cannot simply resist.

4. I am on non-speaking terms with Starbucks for their new line of VIA Ready Brew. While the world screams “RECYCLE! USE LESS PACKAGING! STOP CUTTING DOWN THE AMAZON!” they come up with those tiny coffee sachets worth 1 cup each. Hello! Have you not heard of global warming and The Great Pacific Garbage Patch, which is twice the size of Texas?? These Starbucks people are bananas! Argh!

5. The awesome thing about the holidays is that Jason can’t stop me from making peanut butter and chocolate brownies, or a shit load of chocolate cookies, or even a brownie pie!

6. My favorite candy store? Sur la Table for breakfast, lunch or dinner.

7. My favorite day of the week? The bra-free day. I like to keep my girls free and give them all the play-time they want before I get them to work for food when I get pregnant next year.

8. Hey, Mister! Have you not noticed your car has built-in blinkers? Nooo, these are not Christmas ornaments. You ought to use blinkers all year round dammit. Oh, yeah, that’s a huge pet-peeve of mine.

9. I grew up surrounded by books. Love ‘em to the last page. However, since I started this blog, I’ve been mostly purging words rather then inhaling them. I miss that.

10. Cosmo is a four-legged Pelè in disguise.

11. I have a vivid imagination. In my head, I see pictures of myself and/or people close to my heart in extremely catastrophic scenarios. Those images come to me randomly and out of the blue. Often they are so realistic I start to cry. I am unaware of the origin of this condition. I don’t know how to overcome it either.

12. Beauty moves me. It fills up my chest till it hurts and I start to cry. Again.

13. I secretly fart.

14. I haven’t used a hairbrush in six months, since I cut my hair short.

15. I was a witch in one of my previous incarnations, who lived in the woods and brewed herbal concoctions for various ailments.

16. – 24. Last night I made a salad, a twist on Coleslaw, that was so good the world stopped spinning for a moment. It was so fantastic in fact it’s worth 9 points of the 25 Important Things From Agnieszka Graczyk’s Life. Here’s how I did it…

I bought a package of shredded cabbage. I’d have gotten a whole head if the store offered one, as you know how I feel about the unnecessary packaging, etc. They didn’t carry the veg in its natural form. Back in my kitchen, I emptied the bag into a large bowl and added shredded Granny Smith Apple along with a bunch of chopped scallions. In the meantime, I toasted maybe a 1/2 a cup if raw walnuts, let them cool, and then roughly chopped them into small boulders of brain nuts.

Don’t they totally look like brains? The truth is they are really good for your brain, so it’s a clever tip to remember. The smurfs that write on Whole Foods web pages made my life easier for describing in detail the nuts’ magic:

Walnuts have often been thought of as a “brain food,” not only because of the wrinkled brain-like appearance of their shells, but because of their high concentration of omega-3 fats. Your brain is more than 60% structural fat. For your brain cells to function properly, this structural fat needs to be primarily the omega-3 fats found in walnuts, flaxseed and cold-water fish. This is because the membranes of all our cells, including our brain cells or neurons, are primarily composed of fats. Cell membranes are the gatekeepers of the cell. Anything that wants to get into or out of a cell must pass through the cell’s outer membrane. And omega-3 fats, which are especially fluid and flexible, make this process a whole lot easier, thus maximizing the cell’s ability to usher in nutrients while eliminating wastes–definitely a good idea, especially when the cell in question is in your brain.

The salad would not be complete without the dressing I quickly whipped up in our Magic Bullet. These were the components:

-       freshly squeezed lemon juice from 1 lemon

-       1 tbsp of honey

-       2 tbsp of heavy cream

-       3 tbsp of olive oil (the whole nine yards – organic, extra virgin, first cold pressing, etc.)

-       2 tsp of sea salt

-       1 tsp of black pepper.

Everybody in the bowl (the cabbage, scallions, apples, and nuts) got coated evenly with the silky dressing, then chilled in the refrigerator for at least 45 minutes before consumption time. Then I took a bite, and with it I heard music and saw fireworks on a horizon. It was amazing, beyond delicious. There was the tartness from the apples and the dressing, but instantly the nut took off the edge and spread comfort and bliss in my mouth.

I didn’t need anything else for dinner. That was my delight of the day. For Jason, however, I reheated leftover penne over pancetta and garlic, and grilled three chicken tenders. Just like that. Nevertheless, the salad still took the Guest of Honor’s seat, and got a round of applause. Pure brilliance on a plate.

25. I am madly and uncontrollably in love with that white boy from Texas named Jason Blaine. Moreover, I am madly and uncontrollably loved by that white boy from Texas named Jason Blaine. He loves me just the way I am.

Gobble, gobble…!

If nobody sang and nobody laughed

and nobody cared much about you,

If nobody spoke a word of cheer

to help your long day through;

If all the joy went to the great

and nothing was left for the small,

Then surely the world would be upside down

and life hardly worth while at all.                            ~Author Unknown

came up with this one during one of my boring lectures:

mujhey khana hain santri santra

yehi hain meri life ka one and only funda…

last night i had a cup of tea,

added two tablets of sugar free

since i was not diabetic

life did not seem so pathetic

again as it is about tea

as the next day i wanted to pee

well, of course, next to the tree

so lots of tea

and this is the end of the story.

What is magic anyway? Is it only the unseen? My eldest son is of the age that the unseen is almost always a magical event. The older I get the more inclined I am to agree with him. Magic. Yes, it can be more soothing and yet more scary. Science as an attempt to explain the invisible. And we know that doesn’t always work. So, magic it is. What is the etymology of magic??

This is what the Online Etymology Dictionary says: magic (n.) Look up magic at Dictionary.com
late 14c., “art of influencing events and producing marvels,” from O.Fr. magique, from L. magice “sorcery, magic,” from Gk. magike (presumably with tekhne “art”), fem. of magikos “magical,” from magos “one of the members of the learned and priestly class,” from O.Pers. magush, possibly from PIE *magh- “to be able, to have power” (see machine). Displaced O.E. wiccecræft (see witch); also drycræft, from dry “magician,” from Ir. drui “priest, magician” (see druid).

The idea of having control over something is definitely there.  But so is art or the making of something.  Machines then come from magic…and I wonder then, what of “imagination”?

Week 13: “52 Weeks of Peace”

On this day of one of the most American of holidays, traditionally filled with family, friends, food and football, we all give thanks for our bounty and our blessings, large or small. And I hope too, that each of you may find Peace draped within the folds of your own personal gratitude – and lovingly baked into your Thanksgiving feast.

All peace designs are shown together under the “New Work” tab above.

By Jen

No character is perfect, and no actor can be either.  A need for perfection might be a strong character choice or motivation, but no one is perfect.  It is an impossibility.

In her autobiography, “Lessons in Becoming Myself,” Ellen Burstyn tells the story of an exercise she did in class with Lee Strasberg, in which she created the image of a cup of coffee in her mind.  She carefully constructed the cup in her imagination until she could see and feel the dimensions, and feel the weight of the drink in her hand.  As she worked, Strasberg called on her and asked if she rode horses.

As she attempted to keep her concentration on her imaginary cup of coffee, they discussed her knowledge of horses, until he said, “You don’t have to ride that cup.”  With her perfect cup still in her hand, he asked her, “What would happen if you made a mistake? … Go on, make a mistake!”

“And that began my new life,” Burstyn shared.  “Lee told me that the first step was the willingness to make a mistake, to suffer the humiliation of daring to risk, to grow.  I just had no idea how terrified I was not to be perfect.”

For many actors, struggling and unyielding faith are just part of “paying your dues,” in the hopes of one day meeting success — but having that ambition and optimism is not enough if you have fallen out of love with what you do.  Demanding so much of yourself — to put forth the perfect image, to dress correctly, to deliver your lines in a certain way, to be a part of the right crowd, to project the best image to the public — is futile if you are empty inside and striving for perfection.

1 Corinthians 13:1-3 says,

“And now I will show you the most excellent way.  If I speak in the tongues* of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.  If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.  If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames† but have not love, I gain nothing.”

One of Stella Adler’s mantras was “agitate from your essence.”

What you feel, what you give of yourself, and what you bring to the stage must come from within you.  It must be motivated deep inside so that you can give every bit of yourself to your character.

In other words, do not be a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal — a hollow attention-grabber spouting lines emphatically to an audience or striding perfectly in front of a camera.  Giving 100 percent is not about the effort you put forth alone.  It is the total commitment of yourself to your character, and your ability to let go, step aside, humble yourself and let that character drive you.

Dare to make a mistake.  Dare to take a chance.  Dare to be in love with everything and give everything you have within you to the world.  Let go of the control, step out of the way, and just be.

*languages

†early manuscripts say “body that I may boast”

My inadequacy tells me im not ready,
Since im hiking up the ladder and trying to reach the sky.
At the same time im experiencing the lonely road to success.
But I swear that once im at the top, I ll be the best
The best lover and friend.

Written by: Heath Muchena

© HTMM ,2009 : Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.