Julie Unplugged

Trust Your Way

© 2006
Julie Jordan Scott

"If you don't risk anything, you risk even more."

Erica Jong

It sounds odd and yet the truth shines through
the words like a flashlight in a darkened forest.
Patricia Schneider, respected teacher and writer
said, “Trust the disconnections and the gaps.”

What? When I find a gap, I am not supposed
to immediately build a bridge across it?

This is new.  And when I allow myself the
space to take a breath, I like it.

“Trust the gap” she suggests.

I was a little girl when my family and I would
go canoeing and picnicking along the Delaware
Water Gap.  It was a beautiful expanse of the
river, different from other parts of my personal
favorite span of water.  It held a certain still,
raw, ruggedness that called to me then – and
now, looking at images of it, calls to me still.

The water gap is a place where land collided,
mountains grew and the flow from a variety of creeks
was caught in the rocks and began the
erosion process – all relatively simultaneously.

Today the river continues to create the Water Gap – and
the mountains continue to grow and the water continues to
be “caught” in a space of stillness and beauty.

“Trust the gap.”

It means to trust the collision, trust the growth,
trust the aftermath of the collision and growth – trust
the stillness. Be with the stillness.  Breathe
with the stillness. Don’t make it something
“wrong” you need to build a bridge across.

I know there have been times when I have
come to a place, a gap place, and simply sat and
prayed.  The best moments of prayer have been when
I have settled into the prayer itself and
allowed myself to cry fully and opened my
heart completely to the Divine.

Julia Cameron wrote, “When an artist sends
up a despairing prayer, the Great Creator
does hear and answer it.”

It is when our prayers are sent up half-heartedly – and
we begin to build that monolithic-ode-to-our-own-
solution-making-bridge-over-the-
gap-and-fill-the-stillness-with-our-own-noise
and leave the Divine out of the equation that
we lose the ability to even begin to
fathom faith at all.

Instead, “Trust the gap.”

Remember to trust the collision, trust the
growth, trust the aftermath of the collision
and growth – trust the stillness. Be with the
stillness.  Breathe with the stillness. Don’t
make it something “wrong” you need to
build a bridge across.

I know in my own life, there are collisions
that I haven’t grown to trust yet… the aftermath
is something I still feel discombobulated
about or I get tangled up in the
building-my-own-solution-bridge rather than
sit and watch the gap, the growth, and the natural
erosion spring into form with divine perfection.

It is a part of becoming whole – of
integration – that I am learning to relax
into more completely every day. 

It is like coming home to myself.

It is definitely another aspect of The Dream.

It is most assuredly another aspect of
The Universal Dream.

Part of being with the stillness of the Gap is
being in that paradoxical space of still-movement.
Being in the stillness of the Gap is growing and
eroding and blossoming – so much that it is
outside of what can be perceived through
the human senses.

I quote Julia Cameron again, saying, “Call
yourself home to the part of you that is
strong enough to continue.  That is when
the help comes – it bubbles up within us
and enters as lightly as wind stirring a curtain.”

The gentle wind of your dream is stirring
your heart. Trust the gentle power there. Trust
the gentle sweetness of sitting,waiting,
listening – and adding the wisdom from the nudges,
inklings and knowing in my heart. Today,
choose to act in alignment with this knowing. 

Today, choose your dreams.

= + = + = + = + = +

Check out our New Soul Identity Course, Dream Entry Point

"Mom, I Love the Show!"

I had a breakthrough experience last night – Sam, my five-year-old son, saw me onstage for the first time.  Well – he came to one “Laugh-In” rehearsal last Spring, but he was so disruptive to the rehearsal process, I ended up leaving early.

This time, he mostly stayed off stage and watched.

I kept thinking, “My five-year-old, testosteroney boy… watching ‘Best Little Whorehouse in

Texas

’ what memories will this conjure up ten years from now?”  I was more than a little grateful that it wasn’t a full dress rehearsal.  Beautiful women playing “working girls” with their regular clothes just felt… a little better.

After a while he got more comfortable and sat on the edge of the stage. I noticed how flirtatiously he sat, looking over his right shoulder.  I thought it was hilarious…. and absolutely perfect.

Jacob was his usual honorable self when we couldn’t do our usual dance sequence… I said, “I don’t want to traumatize my children….”  I actually didn’t want Emma to re-mix the dance for her classmates today.

She would have, too. If you know Emma, you know what I am saying!

I spent time in the booth, working stuff out with Kristina and Smith and when I finally got backstage when rehearsal was through, there was Sam, beaming up at one of the gorgeous girls in my cast. He caught sight of me and said, “Mom – I love the show!” Sam rarely speaks in full sentences. He is more of a grunter than a full-sentence-speaker.

He kept saying it over and over… “I love the show!” He told Sheila, “I love the show!” He told Lindsey, “I love the show!” On our way home, we drove through McDonald’s for sodas.  He told the guy who took our money, “I love the show!”

Sam usually wants a Hershey Bar when we get to the theater. I am guessing from now on, he will head backstage first, to see what cast members are there, preparing.  Too bad for Sam that we are in closing week-end.

I have a feeling I will hear his words for a long time.

“I love the show!”

How Vulnerable? Dear Me.....

Just how vulnerable will I be?

I decided today I needed to practice what I preach – and be openly raw and vulnerable. I can cry “I need more intimacy in my life” and yet, if I am unwilling to be 100% there with intimacy myself, what power do the words I express have?

Very little if any at all.

So – today, from the raw-files comes a piece from yesterday’s Morning Pages.

A little clarification, perhaps, will help. Hank – I mention him in the words below – is my dog.  *Smile* The “Passion Point” I mention is relative to the 42 Days of Writing Passionately Program I created and I facilitate.  A final nuance is this – I realized about 1/3 of the way through this writing that I wasn’t the one writing… the source of these words was the Divine.

I should have clued in when I used “Beloved One” as one of my nicknames.

And no, I am not treading water, procrastinating and not allowing you to read my naked, raw truth, straight from the morning pages to you.

Here goes:

Dear Me, Julie, JJ, JJS, Jules, Mommy, Beloved One,

I know you have been sad a lot lately.  It’s ok to be sad – you have permission. Hank still loves you, your children still love you.

I know you have doubts about whether your siblings still love you, but in their own unique ways ~ they do.  It is natural to grieve their absence in your life.  Just don’t dwell on your own death too much.  You were conceived in love to love – even as you were unplanned by humans, you were planned by divinity.  You are MY child, MY partner as YOUR children are MY children.  Their conception, birth, growing up is a reflection of your obedience to me.

I knew of Sam. I knew of the planet’s need for Sam. I put the pieces into place, carefully and with love for all of you. You could have aborted him and you didn’t.  Marlena died because she was supposed to die, not because you were undeserving or any less of a woman.  Your heart has been asking for restoration and WE are providing that now, even this writing – your scribing for ME is restorative.

Remember your own words in the Passion Point: “I trust my self. My heart stands for my truth and my emotions respond to that truth. I am open to learning from my deepest feelings.  It is safe to write them on the page.”

From the Archives - The Batcave Quest

On a stunning Saturday morning in Los Angeles,  we walked
in search of the infamous “Bat Cave” .  As we hiked I
could see in my mind’s eye the Batmobile bursting forth,
off to fight the treachery of the bad guys from Gotham City.

My friend and I walked up a hillside and I noticed the
peaceful quiet right in the heart of Los Angeles.  There
was a brook bursting through some rocks.  There was a
calm quiet hush in the air. 

And there were many other journeyers. 

A young woman walked alongside us and I asked her,
“Do you know how far it is to the Caves?”

Beautifully natural herself, she answered, “No, I am
just visiting.”  Wearing a Northwestern T-shirt and
shorts, I should not have been surprised she was
from Chicago.  Wearing a long sleeved shirt with
a t-shirt underneath and long pants, I showed
her the Chicago insignia on my shirt. 

We shared a connection between us as we shared
a connection with nature.

My friend and I continued walking on our quest
for the Batcave.  I pushed relentlessly for my
point: “What if it’s just around the corner
and we turn around? We can’t turn around NOW!
I don’t want to just miss it!”

As we reached the crest of another beautiful
hill we looked back down towards Hollywood.
Taking a deep breath, I decided that even
without finding the caves,
our walk alone was plenty.

As we made our way back down the hill, two
gentlemen were walking up.  As is my custom,
I greeted them with a friendly, “Hello!” Their
returned smiles and greetings opened the door
to my inquiry: “Hey, do you know how far
it is to the Bat Cave?”

One of the men answered, pointing down the
hill “Yeah, they are to the left of the
parking lot where you first came in.
Just take the path there, you will see it.”

I was incredulous.  We never would have
discovered the Bat Cave on this path. 
It was on a different path altogether!

Now that I was getting clearer information
I inquired deeper, “How long is the path
to reach them?”

Answering in typical Southern California-ease,
he told me in time rather than distance. 
“Seven minutes, tops.”

My smile widened as I literally skipped down
the hill towards my destination.

Deep in the heart of the city and deep in
the heart of nature, I took a path I
thought was the right one.

I connected with nature, and humanity as my
senses delighted in each step for the
step’s sake alone.

I realized in that moment that the Bat
Cave was actually the secondary destination.

I did not give in to “not finding it”.   I
kept asking, knowing that even if what I had
thought I had wanted was out of my reach,
what I experienced would be absolutely ok.

The joy was in the heart of nature and the
heart of the city and the heart of the
others along the path.

The Divine was in the connections.

The Divine is in the separations.

The Divine is in the all of it.

I Command My Heart

My fingers
Traced every inch
Of him
I commanded my heart
To remember

It sounds strange, “I commanded my heart to
remember” but right here, in this moment, as I
retraced the poem onto the keyboard from my
notebook, my hands are tingling with the sensation
of his exact skin, not the skin of any other man.

The memory is several months old and
through my words, it is recreated in
the now. Precious. True. Yes.

My nose smells the nuanced scent of the air
that night, my ears hear the music of the stillness.
I feel the calm yet electrified breath filling my
body and moving within my being.

Yes, this is what happens when the mind and
the heart join and we say “Do this now.”

My heart says yes to everything that is
empowering to me, everything that moves me
forward, everything that creates. My heart causes
no harm to me… mostly because the only way
harm arrives is when my ego decides
something is wrong.

My heart knows things aren’t wrong unless
I choose to see them as wrong.

My heart has an incredible memory. It sees
and holds and cherishes each step of the way.
Today I will remember to remind my heart to steer
the moment.  I will consciously set aside any
quibbling I might get from my intellect or
whining from any other part of my smaller,
lower case “self.”

Once again, I will command my heart to remember.

Backstage: Best Little Whorehouse in Texas in Bakersfield

"There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.”

Vincent Van Gogh

I spent a lot of energy in the past few weeks getting
the play I was producing up and healthy. It took every
ounce of everything that I had and then some.  Doing a
musical of this scale is very expensive – the rights
for Best Little Whorehouse in Texas are probably as much if not more than
the rights for all our other shows for the
year put together.

I felt that responsibly in every ounce of my being,
in every stroke of the paint brush, every readjustment
of a lamp, every bottle of water I carted in for the
cast and crew, every line I spoke and every note I sung.

There is so much more behind the show than what appears
on stage. For the past week as we put the show
on it's feet, I felt the usual
rollercoaster ride.. and as I sat for a moment of
quiet writing time on Sunday night, my first full
day away from theatre in I can't remember when, I
reflected on the moments of love I experienced this
week.... and wanted to share just a taste of my
behind the scenes experience with you.

I am also struck by the irony that after I wrote
this piece about pure love doing exactly what
I love - someone who I thought knew
me pretty well said to me, "I think you shouldn't
produce shows anymore".... and I said, "What?"

He said, "You don't even get paid for it."

I realize I should have given a brighter comeback,
something about being paid in a higher currency
than simply the green stuff....

I am paid in giving and receiving... love.

There is much, much more - this is just a start....

I loved when Smith shared his pictures of his
Berkeley home-to-be

I loved being on the radio with Amy and Jim and Mithkah

I loved hearing John gleefully exclaimed, "I am having
such a great time!" as we walked offstage - knowing
  that my call brought him to be an Aggie

I loved hugging Coryn - and holding both the woman
and the hug in my heart

I loved painting the gold trim and seeing how such a
small thing makes such a big difference

I loved looking at Jared with mock disdain and repeating
"Jared - It's #10!"

I loved sitting with Sheila in the dressing room,
discussing  Thoreau and emotional truth

I loved running and screaming and laughing when Clay
was right on my heels and said, "Run faster!"

I loved applauding the band, howling with delight at
my friends, tapping my toe

I loved that Robyn remembered to bring me a
flashlight holder

I loved schlepping water and buying pizza and fixing
the cooler

I loved watching the odds'n'ends clickety clack into place

I loved hearing recognizeable laughter when I rolled
out onto the stage

I loved hearing him and her and them say "I love to watch
you on stage" and accepting it rather than try
to push it away with some self-degrading words.

I loved experiencing Tim's goofiness and Aaron mentioning
it on his podcast was icing on the humiliating-but-
really-it's-ok-cake.

I loved catching Jeremiah-as-Melvin and knowing that he
completely trusts that I am ready and able to keep
his butt off the ground by catching him.

I loved talking to Meg about "Picnic" and getting all
choked  up about the rich emotions and fine performances

I loved seeing the decorations Kristina added to the Set

I loved watching Mithkah and Coryn and Lindsey ooooh and
  ahh  the pictures on the Storyboard

I loved the Thank Yous from the Cast, from Roger, from the
Board Members, from the audiences

I loved

I loved

I loved

Infinity Loop-de-Loop

It is a full circle time, no it is more like an infinity sign looping-the-loop time.

The home front has been quiet this week. Katherine has been gone – in

Arizona

with my brother and my parents.  I have had a preview of what next year will be like and I haven’t yet decided if I like all this quiet or not! It has been two years since Katherine has been home-schooled. I have grown accustomed to her constant presence.

Yesterday I stopped by Jewel Box Theatre, where Katherine is set to do her next show. I tapped on the glass door because I saw Candice Zent sitting inside. She hadn’t received my voice message, the one that said Katherine couldn’t be there tonight. I am glad I stopped by to tell her in person. 

There was a part of me that stood beside myself and watched, in quiet awe.

Nine years ago was when I first met Candice, when Katherine played her younger sister in “The Sound of Music” and the then-sixteen-year-old Candice carried Katherine up the stairs at the end of “So Long, Farewell” every night. 

Now Katherine is bulkier than Candice and could probably carry her “once older sister” up the stairs.  There we stood, different theater, same people, same passion.

I drove back to BCT to be present while the One Act Festival plays were rehearsing.  Emma was cast in one of them, my same little Emma who hung out back stage when she was only a day old and Katherine was a No-Neck-Monster in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.”

I love sitting back stage and listening to the Directors and their Cast Members at work. I have been present yet silent this first week of rehearsals. I want the Directors to get comfortable in their skin before I start watching them at work. 

This feels like a very sacred time. And indeed, it is.

If you had told the Nine-Years-Ago me where my life would be today, I would have thought you caught the wrong blip on the radar.  If you had told the Three-Years-Ago me, I would have said, “Hey, this voice class is all about me just loving to sing. I will never ‘do theatre’.”

What is it that they say about never saying never? Believe it.

This morning I started humming a song, singing the lyrics out loud. I could hear the musician in my head, but I couldn’t place whose voice was serenading me.

I went to Google, my best friend in Searchdom, and plugged in these words, “We can change the world, rearrange the world”… and found… Graham Nash:

Chicago

.

The circling of infinity widens back to high school and concerts with Jackson Browne, who I had the hugest celebrity crush on at one time.  Graham Nash, the warm up act, the buddy, the part of the larger group of “Crosby, Stills and Nash” and sometimes “Young” – and the infinity loops tighten to include Graham Nash singing “Our House” and Tom and I are suddenly sitting on a porch swing, sipping lemonade and debating whether a certain song was performed by Quarterflash or Pat Benatar.

I had an idea for a new play today, one that I think has to be written.  I wonder how transparent I can be with it – and worry that some people including me may be hurt in the process, which is the one reason I sometimes trot out my pseudonym.

I am still working on “Kiss Me Right” as well.  That story needs to be brought out into the world, too. Ah, yes. The research is brutal for that one.  I couldn’t script it as well as the words are actually spoken by unknowing people destiny tosses in my path.

For now I am sitting at my desk, practicing my best Mona Lisa Smile impersonation, and watching my neighbor’s sprinklers dust the lawn with moisture.  I welcome the next call of Destiny.  I trust whatever comes my way is just right – and I know that whatever thread I weave will be significant to someone, somehow. 

There goes the infinity symbol, loop-de-loop again.

Rich Sadness Transforming Love

Yesterday I had a very sad day. I was deeply immersed in feeling sad. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t good, it was just incredibly, deeply, evocatively sad.

I can’t even remember the last time I felt sadness with such richness.

Reading my words, I have to laugh. “Feeling sadness with such richness”? What the heck is that?

I am reminded of my dear friend, Kevan.  He would say something like “That is truthful.” 

Yes, it is truthful. Katherine is in

Arizona

so I was home alone all day yesterday and I reveled in being sad. I sobbed, flat out. I cried so much the saltiness hurt my eyes.

I was raised to be  a good-little-WASPy-girl who didn’t show emotions.

I remember Hal, after my first transcendent moment in acting… he told me later he thought to himself, “What are we going to do with all this emotion?”

Now, two plus years later, I like to say “We are going to use it. We are going to feel it. We are going to allow it.”

I would rather feel sadness with richness than feel numb, flat and inert.

I sat at Barnes and Noble the other night and read from Mary Oliver’s book, “New and Other Poems” and came across this line:

“The gospel of light is the crossroads of indolence or action.

Be ignited, or be gone.”

Will Young wrote and both Jim Morrison and Jose Feliciano cried out “Come on baby, light my fire.”  They invited, they asked for their Fires to be Lit.

Wait – isn’t being burned painful?

It is painful, it is sorrowful.  The bonus is this: when we choose it – the pain - of burning away the stuff that would otherwise bring us down or possibly destroy us, we also clear the path for all that is sacred, holy, and pure.

Sadness, burning, igniting, creating, transforming love.

Restorative Poetry

Today I sat at Barnes and Noble, sipping coffee

and reveling in the work of Mary Oliver, Pulitzer

Prize winning poet.

I literally had to get up, walk out to my car and

get my notebook.

I couldn't NOT write.

This Fibonacci was born:

She’s
Home
Her words
Sparkle here
No more fog blocks her
Splashing poetry brings back life

:-)

Feels.... SOOOOO.... good!!!

Back to "My" Normal

My writing has taken a back seat during these
past couple of weeks to getting "Best Little
Whorehouse in Texas" up and going. 

Now, with opening weekend behind us, I can feel
the subtle shift back to my "normal" life - sometimes
I think I should say "my" normal life... which
is quite a bit different from the conventional
normal life... and I would have it no other way.

I am already into my next theatre project - the
19th Annual One Act Festival at BCT. We had
read through yesterday and though there were
some bumps, bruises and slight baubles - all
is proceeding.... I am looking forward to
bringing it all into fruition. The scripts
are all uniquely engaging, the directors
are all enthusiastic. A bonus is they all
get along well and work together as if they
have been doing this a long time.

I almost wrote a poem last night. Well, it
is starting to bubble up in me. I was driving.
I had just dropped off Damian... (*akin to
dropping off my younger brother*) and I
called Dan to let him know I was free for the
rest of the evening. 

He heard my voice and said, "Are you ok?"

"Yes." I said, carefully speaking with uncaught-
in-my-throat voice.  I didn't want to explain
I was writing a poem in my head and heart
about love, a slowly severing heart,
and wanting someone who isn't available because
it just didn't seem fitting for the moment.

Or any moment with him.

Katherine is gone to Flagstaff so I will
practice being alone during the day
next week, like I will do when she is in
high school next year.

I miss her already.