the unbearable lightness of being

Consider yourself warned that this post will have no neat beginning, middle, and end, no moral to the story, no general theme lined with specific examples, none of the stuff that I usually strive for in my posts. My mother, who is a professional writer, would be ashamed. But I've been busy - busy working, busy chasing my own tail, busy being busy, trying to put one foot in front of the other and accomplish my goals in a linear fashion of when projects are due versus which project has people attached to it that like to scream and wave their hands frantically at me and insist on being the center of my universe.

What I would like to be doing: catching up on episodes of Revenge. Eating my weight in ice cream. Working off the ice cream by doing Yoga or something else that might make me feel strong and healthy and be able to stop my brain from doing the Neurotic Tango when the lights go out - three things I haven't felt or done in a long time.

What I am doing instead: memorizing lines for the show I'm in once a month; memorizing lines for my acting class; memorizing lines for the web-series I'm co-starring in and shooting almost every weekend day (which means I haven't had a proper weekend in a month, as I work Monday through Friday, then shoot 8 am to 8 pm on Saturdays and Sundays, then go back to work on Mondays); memorizing ASL signs for the ASL class I'm in (my final was last night, and I passed with flying colors); and doing production work (putting together call sheets, call times, time schedules, etc) for the web-series I'm also acting in. I also just got elected to the Board of my church, as its youngest member. Oh, and hey, I'm also planning my wedding.

Color me overwhelmed. With what feels like permanent marker.

So here's a list of things that have got me through the past few weeks.

• I've started leaving my office during lunch. Instead of sitting at my desk and eating in front of the soft, romantic glow of my computer screen, and occasionally working during my lunch (answering phone calls, responding to the boss' needs, checking work email), one day I just walked out of the damn building with my food and a book and found a quiet place to sit and read while I ate. And it was the best lunch hour of my life. So I did it again the next day, and the next. I can't tell you how much it's improved my sanity to eat while no one is bothering me, and to eat outdoors. It's like getting a high-five from the universe every single day.

•  This line by Mary Oliver, which pretty much has become my dictum for life: "Pay attention.
  Be astonished. Tell about it.” Just about every thing Mary Oliver writes comes down to attention, so much so that she compares it to prayer on numerous occasions. And whenever things suck in my life, it's usually because I'm not paying attention to what really matters, to being in the moment and instead I'm elsewhere, distracted, half-assing it. It's the Kairos moment I talked about as my new year's theme and it's where the root of my spirituality lies and every second I am kind to myself or to someone else (which is by far the most important thing on this planet), it's because I was finally paying attention.

• An interactive photograph of the entire universe. It's not fake, it's not Photoshop. It's the deepest photograph of the universe as we know it yet, and when things get stressful I literally just go to the website and tilt up the picture 90 degrees so that it feels like I am lying on my back, staring up at stars. It works wonders.

•  Realizing my ego does not go gently into that good night, and reciting this line over and over again to counteract the loudness of its tantrums: "Do you value your reasons for staying small more than the light shining through the open door?"(source here)

• This.  

•  Following this guy on Twitter. He also wrote a book. Sample dictionary definition of his: "Between, prep.: I live in the area bounded by my expectations and my disappointments."

• Buying tickets to not one but TWO Hollywood Bowl shows this year: Pixar in Concert in August and Florence + the Machine in early October. 

• Oh and: fresh strawberries, naps, back rubs from my favorite guy, engagement parties, flip-flop weather, Mother's Day picnics, ice cold pink lemonade, frozen yogurt, clean sheets, too much poetry, letting it go, letting it go even more, and gratitude, gratitude, gratitude.

questions and answers

So... did YOU know my mom was reading this blog? Because I sure didn't. Until I drove down to visit her for Mother's Day today, and as we were chatting on the phone about what food I was going to bring, my mom said, "By the way, I answered your questions."

"What questions?" I asked.

"The ones in your blog."

"You...read my blog?"

"Yep."

"So you've...read...my mother's day blog."

"Yep."

"So you already know what I'm making you for Mother's Day."

"Yep. Honestly Tracy, you told the whole world you were conceived in a Winnebago?"

"Um. I don't think the WHOLE WORLD is an accurate headcount of who's reading my blog. So let's just say I told approximately 23 people."

Anyways, my mom copied and pasted my questions into a Word document, then emailed me the answers. And when I asked if I could post some of her answers on this blog, she said yes. Enjoy, and Happy Mother's Day. :)

To Tracy on Mother’s Day, 2009

Was I planned?

Oh, Lord! I can’t believe I told you that story. It’s time to rewrite history: I had a magical encounter with a most perfect man (no, not your biofather). We were totally in synch, spent the day eating chocolate covered strawberries, while wandering around a white sand beach with the breeze gently flowing and the waves gently lapping at our feet, talking about everything under the sun. We never actually touched each other because our communion was so perfect that it wasn’t necessary. And 9 months later you were born.

Did you feel ready for me?

Yes. I was ready for a little girl in my life. You completed our family. Boys are great, but every mother needs a daughter – like you.

How was the birth? Honestly. You can tell me. Did it suck? It sucked, didn't it. You can tell me.

It wasn’t bad at all. You were born at home in your own bedroom while friends and family partied around me. You started speaking as soon as you made your appearance (“Ma! Ma!”). The nurse said most babies don’t know how to make the “m” sound and just go waaaah or aaaaa, so we knew right away that you were a superior being.

How was I as a baby? Was I a little punk that cried incessantly?

You hardly ever cried. You entertained yourself by lying on your back and doing calisthenics, throwing your legs straight up and then crashing them back down onto the crib mattress. You did this so regularly that 4-year-old Jeff could direct you: “Put em up, put em down.” You also read books while I changed your diaper and we engaged in word games: Me: “You’re a superbaby.” You: “You supermommy.” (A couple grammar mistakes there, but you were only 18 months old.) My friends were very impressed with your word skills. I took them for granted.
What do you remember most about me growing up?

That you were happy, fun, so smart, and I loved every moment with you. You were the little girl in the Abba song, going off to school with your backpack (decorated with a “Mean people suck” sticker) waving absent-mindedly at me as you left because you were eager to tackle the day.

What was the biggest challenge you faced in raising me?

I can’t think of any. Wait, maybe…um, I’m still thinking. I’ll let you know.

When was the time you felt I let you down the most? What about the time I made you the most proud?

I can’t ever remember you letting me down (unless it was the time when you told me you “totally hated me” because I made you wear your Brownie dress to a Brownie event, not knowing that no one ever wears a Brownie dress for any reason.)* There are so many moments when you’ve made me proud that I don’t know where to begin. One that comes to mind is when you played Polonius in “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead” at Chapman. More recently it was your performance at the improvisation theatre, which was hilarious. And making Jody into such a likable character. But it isn’t just your acting that makes me proud. I’m so proud of the wonderful person you are.

How was I as a teenager? What did you want to say to me as I was going through those years?

I wanted to say, don’t grow up too fast, don’t leave because I can’t imagine life without you. But I didn’t want to hold you back, so I hope I never said that to you. (If I did, I’m sorry. Mothers have to learn to let go.)

Now that I'm an adult, what choices that I've made do you support the most? How about the least?

You have relentlessly pursued your dreams of acting, and I’m so proud that you’ve stuck with it, even through discouraging times. But I’m also glad that you haven’t made acting the center of your being. You have filled your life with other activities that bring you much joy.

What would you like me to do for you to make our relationship even stronger?

Come home more often so we can spend the day at Laguna Beach together on Fridays. Keep calling me to check up on me, so I don’t go astray. Never give in to sadness; don’t ever lose your joy. When you’re happy, I’m happier.

Oh, and yes. Of course I remember reading you "Goodnight Moon."

*that Brownie dress was hideous. You gotta draw the line somewhere.