Snakes, Dementors and Planes...Oh my!

I have a Raiders of the Lost Ark poster in my office, directly across from my desk -- there's Indy, holding his whip over one shoulder, his dreamy eyes looking out from under the brim of his fedora, daring adventure to have its best crack at him, damning danger with his steadfast resolve. There is no doubt: Indiana Jones is a bad ass. And he's a hero. But that's not why I love him. 



I love him because he's afraid of snakes.



Dr. Jones teaches me that being afraid doesn't disqualify me from being the hero of my own life.  Some people see fear as a weakness – but what great hero doesn’t have some weakness to overcome?  Superman has Kryptonite to contend with, Mikey from the Goonies has asthma; Harry Potter was raised as a muggle and has impossibly high expectations to face…not to mention that unsightly scar.  In movies, as in life, we are not inspired by the person who has never had to struggle; we are moved by those who have prevailed against all odds.  By those who, like Katniss, do not wilt when the odds are not ever in their favor.   Because, as all of our favorite movie characters know, we only get to experience the triumph of overcoming if there is an obstacle in our way. 

I quite often think I would like to live my life along the path of least resistance, but then I think about my life as a movie, and how utterly boring a movie with no obstacles would be.  Imagine if Andy Dufresne had been let out of jail after only one day, or if the Joker was an only slightly annoying birthday party clown at Bruce Wayne’s party, or if Ferris had been allowed to take the day off.  Snooze-fest!  And if I wouldn’t want to shell out fifteen bucks to watch someone mosey down easy street, why would I want to shell out 80 odd years living on it?  Screenwriting 101 says a movie must have “stakes” because conflict is the only thing that will propel the story forward.  And I believe the same is true for life – we only move forward when we are challenged, and we can only truly succeed when failure is a possible outcome.



And sometimes, as Indiana Jones shows us, we may find that the very thing we fear may be the key to our success.  After all, if it had not been for all of those pesky snakes, he and Marion would never have discovered they could break through the wall of the tomb and escape.  Those snakes showed them the way out…and it is very possible that if we look at our weaknesses, and ask ourselves what we can learn from them, we can turn them into strengths, breaking through the walls of the proverbial tombs in which we find ourselves trapped.

I have found myself caught up in the dark caves of fear and doubt many times in my life – whether it be my constant struggle with a fear of flying, or the more prevalent what-will-everyone-think-phobia.  But as a screenwriter I know that at a certain point in every story the hero must go into a dark place to confront fear face to face in order to emerge victorious. Frodo had to climb Mount Doom, Dorothy went into the Wicked Witch’s castle, Wesley and Buttercup had to make their way through the Fire Swamp filled with Rodents of Unusual Size, and the Goonies had to descend into the tunnel under the fireplace before they could discover One Eyed Willie’s rich stuff. 



That is what movies teach us – that there will be dark and scary woods to travel through in every life – but if we do not turn back, we will discover that the treasure is waiting for us on the other side.

The greatest power that fear has is to make us believe it can somehow keep us from becoming the heroes we were all meant to be. But when we remember it's okay for heroes to be afraid, not just okay, but a requirement really -- it takes all the air out of terror’s tires. Fear becomes a rusty old car on blocks -- it may have an engine, but it's not going to go anywhere. As Gary Busey might put it, fear is just an acronym for False Evidence Appearing Real. And trust me, I know; it can appear very real at times. And sometimes, like Harry Potter, we have to fight from letting it take us over body and soul (just a reminder, chocolate can be a great remedy when fighting the Dementors). But mostly, if we just keep moving forward, whether it be by leaps over tall buildings, by whip, or by Nimbus, before we know it, the things that scared us the most will just be old pieces of junk off in the distance, markers of how far we've come. 

 


So, tell me: who is your favorite movie hero and what is his or her weakness?  How has it inspired you accept your own weaknesses and overcome your own fears?

This poem makes my heart smile:)

Line & Landscape: Time Machine:

Jan 7, 2014

Time Machine

for Kara

lately, there's been talk at my house
of building a time machine:
my son has his theories
and though skeptical still
I'm starting to believe

when it's finished, I'll give you a call–
there will be no heady talk
of unfinished symphonies, books:
dreams freed like butterflies
through nets softened by years

rather, I'll extend a simple invitation
to walk once again past the peacocks and zebras
of Croftboro Farms
miles down the winding, whispering
tree-canopied Camden Lane

we'll enter that old Walmart plaza
light with childhood laughter
content, my sister
with nothing more
than a cold coke on a hot summer day.

Here Is Your Life

I am grateful for this new season of Lent -- for a time to recalibrate, to dip the plane below the clouds, fly low enough to see where I am, where I want to be, and what direction I need to aim for to get there. I am grateful to have had the chance tonight to watch hundreds of faces, a great sea of humanity of all ages and sizes and colors -- all with a dark smudge of ashes on their foreheads.  It was quite lovely to see how many people would take the time on a busy Wednesday night to stop and think about the world and their place in it, to ponder the mysteries of life and allow themselves, ourselves, to feel the largeness of it and the smallness of us.  I have felt isolated lately and it was buoying to experience a sense of community again.

When I came home, I took out my book of quotes that I have collected over the years and found many great words that rekindled a small flame inside me…it is my hope that this season of reflection can grow that flame of wonder and passion and joy and love and purpose into something quite brilliant indeed…

Here is one quote that moved me:

"The grace of God means something like: Here is your life.  You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you.  Here is the world.  Beautiful and terrible things will happen.  Don't be afraid.  I am with you.  Nothing can ever separate us.  It's for you I created the universe." ~ Frederick Buechner

A little video tribute to Alfie...:)

Lessons I learned from my dog Alfie:

1. Never underestimate the comedic impact of a well-timed burp
2. Don't be afraid to get your hair wet when you swim
3. Don't be afraid of anything
4. If you beg long enough, and never give up, you'll eventually get what you want
5. Nobody is a stranger
6. It feels really good to sit still, nose in the air, face tilted towards the sun and let its rays warm you
7. Belly rubs are awesome
8. Never hold a grudge
9. When someone is sad, you don't have to say anything, just sit as close as possible and don't complain when they drench your fur with tears
10. Chipmunks are jerks
11. Never be stingy with kisses
12. Bounding with joy for no reason every now and then is good for the soul
13. Love unabashedly, unreservedly, unconditionally...and never ever stop

Thank you for being the best friend, the best teacher, the best cheerleader a girl could ever ask for. I love you, buddy.

The Hollywood Journal

I've been a little absent on this post because I've been asked to be a contributer to a new blog called The Hollywood Journal... here are all of my posts so far, just cut and paste the link into your browser:)
http://hollywoodjournal.com/author/karah/

Cat + Icy/Hot = adorable:)

My cat makes me laugh:)  She's a fiend for the smell of icy/hot! 

Dancing Dust

In honor of Ash Wednesday, I'm reposting the post that started this blog.  I will be writing daily in this Joy Blog for Lent again this year as well:)

DANCING DUST

Ash Wednesday. The day when many people go to church in the middle of the day in the middle of the week to a service that, quite honestly, has always extremely bummed me out. I mean there was a certain cache to it as a little kid, getting out of school for an hour, coming back with ashes smeared on my forehead. A proud beacon proclaiming to the world that I was good because I knew I was bad. But as I grew older, the ashes seemed morbid to me -- really, who wants a reminder that they are going to die, that life is short and they've probably messed up what little time they have. Actually, it kind of pissed me off -- isn't the whole God thing about Life? About Forgiveness? What's with wallowing around in the depressing stuff? 

And yet -- somehow I always find myself going to church. On ash wednesday. And so, the last time I went, I wore a bright orange polka dot shirt and a baby blue sweater as an act of rebellion. No sackcloth and black for me. I prepared myself for somberness -- but found something entirely different. As I walked through the heavy arched door, my eyes lowered in proper (if feigned) humility, I discovered words had been written on the floor. Written in a whisper of black ash...

"Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return." 

I steeled myself for the usual surge of doom, but for some reason, it didn't come. And that's when something wholly unexpected happened. I started to laugh. Yes, laugh. It started as a tickle somewhere deep inside and worked its way up to my throat as I worked my way down the aisle. I knelt at the pew, my shoulders shaking now. Trembling with, what was it? Joy? On Ash Wednesday?? What kind of a Christian am I...? 



The kind who was given an amazing gift. 

A glimpse of the miracle of it all. 

What glory, what magic, what wonder that dust should be raised up in such a way! What sheer beautiful absurdity that dust should walk and talk and wear Jimmy Choo shoes. If dust could be formed into fingers and hearts and eyes that can speak as well as see, is not ANYTHING possible?? I wanted to dance to show that dust can dance too. How??? The human body has 90% chemically in common with dirt for heaven's sake! And yet, here I sit, typing a blog. Breathing, feeling, loving...

And it made me think of an incident with Pippin, my youngest pup, that happened only a few days earlier. I have a steam shower in my bedroom bathroom, if not THE reason I bought my place, at least one of them. I love the swirl of the steam, making me disappear in the glass box of my shower, love drawing on the foggy doors -- some people sing in the shower, I doodle. Okay, I sing too, but that's not important. What's important is, I love the steam. Anyway, as I stepped out of the shower on this particular morning, Pippin was sitting on the mat, toy in his mouth, patiently waiting for me to play. But suddenly, he dropped the plastic toy and began to back out of the room a look on his face I had never seen before...a look of pure fear. The hair on his back stood up and he began to bark, barking for his life it seemed as the steam billowed towards him in in a hazy white cloud. Steam. Just steam -- I tried to reassure him, but he ran from the room. He couldn't understand it, so he feared it.

 Oh how much time do I spend, how many days, how many sleepless nights barking at steam? Being afraid of the ashes. Afraid I have sinned too much and believed too little. Thinking the cloud is going to kill me when really its just going to relax me and clear my nasal passages. I faced the fear that day -- the ashes, the reminder of death, the way being reminded makes me feel -- and I let the steam of it all pass over me for what it was, a bunch of hot air. And I found to my amazement that on the other side of fear was joy -- exuberance even. The amazing truth that life is a mystery...a beautiful, wonder-filled phenomenon. Is not anything possible? :)

Ring in the New!

I am very grateful to be on the cusp of a brand new year:)  As Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote: "Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true."  Blessings to all in 2013!

HSK -- Highly Sensitive Kara

I took a quiz from this month's Oprah called "Are You an HSP?" -- HSP standing for Highly Sensitive person.  I laughed when I saw it, because I didn't need a quiz to tell me what anyone who has ever met me knows -- I am definitely an HSP.  My skin is too sensitive for certain fabrics, I startle at the drop of a hat -- not an expression, I have actually jumped at the sound of my fedora falling from my desk to the floor; I can't watch scary movies or violent scenes without having the images haunt me for years; just walking past the perfume counter at Macy's triggers a migraine, flashing lights hurt my eyes; a thimble full of caffeine will make me climb the walls; and I cry, a lot -- when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm scared, and yes, even when I'm angry.  So it made sense to me that I scored a perfect 60 out of 60 -- a perfect score for being highly sensitive.  Which like I said, I already knew, but somehow seeing it on the page made me sad.  You read me right, I was oversensitive about being oversensitive.  Because it is exhausting sometimes living in a constant state of feeling.  There was a good reason Deanna Troy was my favorite Start Trek Next Generation character -- I could relate to the burden of being an empath. Mostly I was sad because I felt like there was something wrong with me, like being highly sensitive was akin to being radioactive somehow.  Like Karen Silkwood must've felt when all of the sirens went off and people fled for their lives to get as far away from her as possible.  Look!  Kara's crying again!  RUN!

I have often remarked to friends or family members (when I was feeling wounded or vulnerable over something that most people would shake off right away) that I am just too sensitive for this world.  And deep down, I think I felt like it meant I wouldn't be able to contribute to the world, to make a difference for the good in it in the way I had always hoped.  That I was too fragile to make any impact, too breakable to matter.  But then something wonderful happened the other night.  I woke up at 4:30 am, a pretty common thing for me as I am a very light sleeper and will be instantly up and awake and ready for anything at the slightest noise (we call it my "Earthquake? Gunshot? Monster??" process).  Anyway, I walked into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, shaking my head and lamenting "you are just too sensitive, Kara."  I stared back at myself, waiting for mirror me to agree,  but what met me instead was a voice deep inside, a warm and gentle, wise and firm voice that I instantly recognized as the voice of God that said quite simply, "You are not too sensitive for this world -- you are exactly as sensitive as this world needs you to be."

Well, I'm sure you can guess what came next -- I burst into tears.  Tears of relief, because in that moment, a burden lifted.  That burden to stop being so sensitive, to try and be stronger and tougher just drained right down the sink leaving me with the startling realization -- I was made this way.  Sensitive by design, not by mistake.  Made to notice the way the breeze gives breath to a weeping willow, helping it to dance through the grief; made to see the confusion on the elderly woman's eyes as she stands on the corner not knowing who to ask for directions; created vulnerable enough to know how it feels to hurt so it can be credible when I say to a friend in pain "I understand."  And what greater gift could there be than to be able to offer understanding to the misunderstood, tenderness to the bruised, a silent ear to the unheard?

What a perspective changer -- the thing I had most lamented in my life, I was now beginning to be grateful for.  Heck, I would never have discovered cashmere if my skin didn't break out in a rash over wool:)  And I never could've experienced the pure bliss of my heart being healed in love if I had't felt the agony of it shattering first.  I recognize that not everyone is an HSP, but I do think that in each life we have a choice when faced with something that makes us feel more vulnerable than we would like -- we can feel weak and ashamed by it and try to ignore it and shut it out -- or we can be grateful for it knowing that if we are feeling something, that means we are alive.  And if we are alive in this world, it's because this world needs us -- exactly as we are.