To Learn to Tell a Story Without Words

Words are never good enough. My heart speaks in music that only I understand. Yet at the same time, I don’t have the ability or the knowledge to be able to release it. Right now, my heart is composing a symphony of sadness, triumph, and bitter longing. But. I. Can’t. Let. It. Out. I don’t know how. Words are the only medium I know.

Sometimes my point shoes do a better job at expressing what my heart cannot. But again, my body is feeble and undertrained. I trip. I fall. I turn an ankle, all in an attempt to speak what my heart cannot.

Sometimes I can express my heart on stage or in a song, but those must be already written, already existing. And sometimes, there is no one to hear my song, so it falls on the deaf ears of my teddy bears and an empty room.

So, I write. I write all day, and I write all night. There is always so much more to be written. If I lived a thousand years it wouldn’t be enough time to write down all that is within me. I’ve already lived a hundred lives, each one filled with sorrows and joys.

Oh what’s the point anyway? Tonight my heart aches because it wants to tell a story, but it’s a story I don’t know the words to. How will I ever learn to tell a story without words?

The Colorful Things in Life

Today I had a conversation with a man who was bemoaning the fact that his son, who had once been so productive and driven, now spends his days doing nothing but play video games.  This isn’t like his son at all. I felt sorry for his father who is concerned for his offspring, but at the same time, I felt sorrier for the son. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good video game from time to time. I play some myself. But, when I see people spending their entire lives in front of a screen, I can’t help but think about all of the colorful, magical things that life is filled with that they are missing.

You see, people like that miss out on some of the most wonderful things like life, like the roses blooming, the unexpected encounter of a chance meeting, or the wonderful experience of getting utterly and completely lost and then turning up at a random, but wonderful destination. Does anyone ever really remember beating level 39 or killing the most zombies? Well, it’s possible, but are those really the experiences that you want to build your life upon?

Looking back on my own life, I don’t remember the games I played alone in my room, or the hours I spent sitting in class. I don’t remember the time I spent checking my notifications on Facebook or browsing pins on Pinterest. What I do remember is all of the time I spent with friends, visiting family, and meaningful conversations. I remember sunrises, nerve-wracking moments on stage, dancing every dance, loving, kissing, hugging.

When it comes down to it, those are the things that life is composed of: beauty, adventures, relationships, community, love, experiences. I want my golden years to not only to still be filled with these things, but also the memory of these things.

A God Moment

So, God and I had a moment yesterday.

I had been having a really emotional day and was leaving for work a little teary-eyed. As I drove I noticed one of my neighbor’s rose bushes in full-bloom. They were beautiful, all different colors. I’ve never been one to take flowers for granted. Not only do I stop and smell the roses, but my family makes fun of me because often I will give them a kiss as well. (I think that flowers in general are very deserving of a kiss every now and again.)

As I was admiring the beautiful flowers, I heard something within me say, “How can you be sad when the roses are blooming?”

I was shocked. I knew it wasn't me, but the voice of God, speaking to me. I had heard Him before.  He knew exactly what I needed to hear at that moment. He wanted me to remember all of the beauty that he had put on this earth for us to enjoy, for me to enjoy.

Later, after I had arrived at work, it hit me. Not only did God want me to enjoy his creation because it is beautiful, but he wanted me to enjoy it with him. Do you realize how significant this is? God takes pleasure every time a new rose opens up and blooms. He didn’t just make creation and leave it. He enjoys it, every bit of it. And here He was, asking me, little ol’ me, to enjoy it with Him! Suddenly, I felt as if I knew exactly how Adam and Eve must have felt in the garden when they walked with Him.

In a way, I feel like God let me have a really special moment with Him, and I cherish that.

Bittersweet

I spent this past weekend back home for a very short, family visit. Trips back home are always so bittersweet.  What makes them even more bittersweet is when I get to see my theatre family as well. This weekend I went to see Oklahoma at Church Hill Theatre. It was so well done and I got a chance to see so many old friends who I used to share the stage with. Every time I spend time with my theatre friends, I ask myself the same question: “Why did I ever leave?” Of course, I know the answer to that, but it doesn’t make it any easier to sit in the audience when all I want to do is rush back stage and run my fingers over the words etched in the wooden walls: “Ah, Wilderness!,” “Hello, Dolly!,” “The Music Man,” and so many others. I want nothing more than to go to the green room and put on my make-up before the show, pace backstage nervously, concentrating on my character and running my first line over and over in my head. As long as I have that first line, I know I will be fine.

But no. Instead, I sit in the audience and nearly cry as I watch one of the most compelling ballet numbers I think I have ever seen. I hold my hand up to my mouth as I stifle a sob. Once upon a time, that was me, dancing for the crowd. Once, that was me pouring out my soul on stage.

I drove home that night and smiled as I saw the moon in front of my car. In the first show I ever did at CHT, I had the line, “The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” And every night after that show, I would look for the moon when I came to a stop in front of a large field. There was never anyone at that stopping place, so often I would just gaze up at the moon in all of his majesty. I would then blow him a kiss and bid him goodnight.

Ever since that show, stopping at that place and greeting the moon has always been a tradition of mine. It is strange, I know—I have many strange customs, but they are all part of the quirks of who I am. And last night, the moon was right there again, the place where I do believe it permanently resides: perched above the field at the crossroads. Whenever I come to that stop, I feel like I am seventeen again, innocent, and unbroken.

That night, I arrived home at midnight. I got out of my car and closed the door. There were no lights in the yard. I stood in silence for a moment, wondering what was wrong. Then it hit me. It was utterly and completely dark. The only light was from the stars that pin-pricked the black sky. I hadn’t seen that kind of dark in months. My house in the city is surrounded by lampposts, so even at the darkest hour of the night, there is light everywhere, sometimes even drowning out the stars. I had forgotten about the darkness—that beautiful darkness that wanted to envelope me in the cool folds of its exciting, but threatening embrace. In that moment I wanted to get lost in it and never return.

But I returned anyway. We all must return to the day, to the light when the dream has ended. Those few bitter sweet moments faded away and soon I was driving back to my home by the beach. It’s not that I want to live anywhere else. It’s just that reminders of the beautiful past, or of painful things crop up every once in a while, bring a sting with them.

Even today, I put on a fragrance that I haven’t worn in a couple of months. But as soon as I dabbed a little on my wrists, I was taken back to Valentine’s Day, and there was a stab in my heart that hurt. I thought that part of me had healed over.

Then, a little later, someone texted me to tell me about a swarm of fireflies, and that summer had official arrived. There was another stab. Sometimes, I just want to be left alone. I don’t need those reminders, those ghosts from the past. They are dead and gone, but I am alive! I live and will live. I love and will love.

Saying Goodbye: The Letter He Will Never Read

You know, six weeks ago I thought it was a tragedy. I thought that when you left me, I would just curl up and die. I almost went home because I thought you were the only person in this whole city who cared for me.

But I was wrong.

I am so much stronger than I knew then. So when you see me, stop looking so surprised. Stop being so shocked when you find out that I go out with our old friends. I didn’t go away. I didn’t just fade into the darkness.

And I want to thank you. I want to thank you for doing me the biggest favor of my life. Looking back on us, I now see things I chose to ignore before or thought would be worked out. But since you, I realized how heartless you really were.

It isn’t natural to sit there next to your crying girlfriend and not even give her a hug or a pat on the back. Why did I always have to ask to be held?

It isn’t natural to hear that your girlfriend is grieving over the loss of a friend and not even ask if she is okay.

If anything, I feel sorry for you. How will you ever make it through life without feeling anything? I wish you understood, and I wish you knew what you were missing. I pray that someday you will understand and will be able to empathize and sympathize with others.

I, on the other hand, have been freed. My God! Sometimes I think about the bullet I dodged. Since you, I’ve gotten to know someone who has shown me how caring people can actually be. I’ve recently been hugged when I’ve been upset. The sad thing is that this was a shock to me, because I was so surprised that anyone would even take that kind of interest in my sorrow or care that much about my troubles.

I realize now that I don’t have to settle for someone who just brushes me and my hurts off. Compassion still exists and I have such great hope for the future.

I thought I’d walk out of this jaded and bitter, but instead, I feel wiser, and more hopeful than ever. I feel redeemed, I feel renewed, I feel loved and innocent again. I didn’t know that was possible, but it is.

Thanks for doing me that favor. Goodbye for good. I hope you find your way.