Follow Your Bliss

I was waiting for a subway train when I heard a happy voice call out my name. I turned to see Susan, a committed and enthusiastic member of Cantores Celestes, the choir I used to sing with. (See July 6th entry.) We caught up briefly on each others' news, and by the time the train arrived we were deeply engaged in more serious conversation. We entered the car together, still talking.
I told my former fellow chorister about my reasons for leaving the choir. It was a hard decision for me to make, but I needed to devote more time to developing my career as a writer and actor. And then Susan told me about her younger sister, who had had a successful career as a doctor when she decided to give it up and follow her life-long dream of being an actress. Now she's putting herself out there and busy writing and performing for fringe festivals and local theatres.
I've known a number of actors, unable to cope with the rigours and insecurities of living life on the edge - working now and then, hustling, auditioning, and doing odd jobs between gigs - who have given it all up and gone back to school to study law, and yes, even medicine. But I've never met someone who did it the other way around - going from a well-paid profession to the vagaries and uncertainties of a life as an actor, or an artist in any discipline, for that matter. Sure, there are established professionals who are happy to pursue their artistic interests as hobbies, but giving up a good living for a life in the arts? Wow! Now that's following your bliss.
I couldn't help admiring this woman's courage and commitment. I found it truly inspiring, and it emboldened me to persevere. Okay, sure, Susan's sister has a great job to fall back on, and does so between gigs, whereas most actors' "straight" jobs offer them only minimum wage, myself included. But Susan's sister is a committed artist who has obviously worked and studied hard to get where she is. She's truly earned all the breaks she can get. (Susan is also an accomplished woman - she has a law degree and teaches law at university. Her creative outlet is singing in the choir.)
Fulfilling our potential and achieving our goals can take our entire lives. Hearing Susan's story about her sister made me wonder how many people live what Thoreau refers to as a life of quiet desperation - a life of longing and yearning. Many people don't even know what it is they really want - what fires them up and gets them going. The people who know what they want out of life are truly blessed, and those who actually get out there and pursue it deserve as much luck as fate can dispense.
I'm glad I bumped into Susan and got a chance to hear her sister's story. It gives me hope. So I'd like to say to her, and indeed, to anyone who is brave enough to walk the often bumpy, difficult path to living your dreams - break a leg!
- G.P.

Good Vibes

I sang in a women's choir for 14 years. My time with the choir was filled with music (of course!), camaraderie, study, practise, joy and angst. Each season culminated in a concert for an audience of 600 people. Standing on stage, shoulder to shoulder with almost 50 women, our voices all raised in song, I could feel a powerful connection with the audience and each other, even though our eyes were on the director.
The connection between the performers and the audience is palpable. When everything is just right - notes, pitch, volume, expression, focus and intention, the audience is engaged on a deeper level than just listening. A performing artist in any discipline can tell if that connection has been made long before the audience responds with applause. In order to achieve that ideal performance level, ensemble performers must first connect with each other. For musicians, it is on a physically quantifiable, vibrational level. When I sang with my fellow choristers, the perfect blend our director always sought would be achieved when we vibrated in perfect harmony, even if we were singing in unison.
Harmony is defined as a state of perfect balance and proportion. It is a term applied to music, mathematics and mood. When something is harmonious, it is either beautiful or peaceful, or both. (I make the distinction because music like Beethoven's Ode to Joy is certainly beautiful, although not necessarily "peaceful" in the strictest sense of the word.) When the heavenly bodies of the sun, moon, planets and stars were erroneously thought to orbit the earth in perfect concentric circles, the movement of these celestial bodies was believed to create the "music of the spheres." As fate would have it, the choir I sang with is called Cantores Celestes, which is Latin for "celestial singers." How perfect. In order to create music that sends one's spirits soaring, there must be complete accord amongst the singers themselves, at least musically. I met many beautiful, gifted and special women during my time with Cantores Celestes. A number of them have become dear friends I will cherish all my life. In different circumstances - in an office, for example - I doubt very much I would have made the same intense connection with some of these women, because we are so unlike each other. It was music that brought us together. Despite differences in outlook and beliefs, when we sang together, i.e. vibrated together, we were connecting on a quantum level. Now that's really deep, both physically and metaphysically.
Everyone and everything in the universe vibrates. The human body is a living, breathing, vibrating instrument. When we choose to raise our voices in song rather than anger, we become instruments of peace. That is why music is known as the international language. Sir John Tavener, choral composer and English mystic, says that "if the world is to be saved, it will be saved by beauty." Amen to that.
- G.P.

The Child and the Fan

A small child sat with her father across from me on the subway train. She appeared to be about three years old. I had just rushed onto the train and was hot and flustered. Although I was a harried sight as I fumbled through my pack sack for the book I was reading, the little girl paid me no heed. No doubt she regarded me as just another old lady of no consequence. Boring for sure.

I had difficulty finding the book in my overloaded bag, which made me feel more over-heated and muddled than I already was. To cool myself off I pulled out my Chinese fan. I always carry one with me for just such occasions. I snapped it open and began to fan myself. It's a pretty fan, made of white silk and decorated with pale pink and purple flowers. An Asian woman sitting adjacent to me smiled knowingly. I smiled back. But it was the reaction of the little girl that pleased me more. Not only did she smile, she was positively enthralled. She looked at me as if I were someone who had given her a special gift. A fan was something she had probably only seen in pictures, or heard about in fairy tales. But here was a real, live lady using a real fan in the most prosaic of situations. I admit that I continued to fan myself because I was enjoying her happy attention. A few station stops later her father took her by the hand and led her out of the car. She strained to catch a last glimpse of me as they walked away.

I use a fan frequently for practical reasons, but I had a brief exchange with a small child who found it magical. The entire incident lasted only a few minutes, but the pleasure I felt from unintentionally giving a child a few moments of enchantment lasted me the whole day.

- G.P.

Rainbow Magic

The sun was shining low on the western horizon, and there was a light sprinkle of rain after a heavy downpour. Conditions were perfect for a rainbow, so I poured myself a glass of wine and went out on the front porch, which faces east, and waited for the rainbow to appear. I was not disappointed. A few minutes later a complete, unbroken 180 degree rainbow arched across the eastern sky.
I was thrilled. I had been sipping my wine and muttering little prayers to myself that, should a rainbow appear, a certain wish I've had almost all my life would come true. I've wished that same wish, or a variation of it, many times under similar "if-this-or-that-happens-my-wish-will-come-true" circumstances. Well, guess what? After all these years, I'm still wishing it.
Yup. I'm a magical thinker. The term "magical thinker" sounds as if it should be a good thing, but it's almost always used in a dismissive, derogatory way. Flaky is a word I've heard often to describe those of us who indulge in such modes of thought. Intelligent, informed people do not. But there I was standing on my front porch waiting for a rainbow, and my dreams to come true.
So why was I so thrilled if I've wasted so many precious moments in wishful thinking? Firstly, because a rainbow is a beautiful natural phenomenon that doesn't happen every day. That's why I ran across the street, glass of wine in hand, exhorting passers-by to look upward and behold a wondrous thing. Most of them were thankful I pointed it out, but there were also a couple of people who looked up very briefly, responded with a banal "uh huh" or "oh yeah," and then continued on their mindless way. As for me, I gazed at that rainbow until it disappeared.
I can't see a rainbow without being inspired. Apart from its beauty, it is surely one of the most storied of natural wonders. It is the return of light after a stormy night, a place where you'll find a pot of gold, a bridge between heaven and earth, the royal road of Iris the Greek goddess, the necklace called Brisingamen of Freya the Norse goddess, and the heavenly sign that told Noah the flood was over at last.
So now we know that a rainbow is created by the refraction of light through the prism of multiple raindrops into the seven colours of the spectrum. This fact does not make seeing a rainbow any less magical for me. Indeed, it only enhances my appreciation and understanding of it. Upon first sight of a multi-coloured archway across the sky, my eyes still widen, and a smile still crosses my face before I have time to think at all, magically or otherwise. I'm always left in awe.
Sure, I've been disappointed many times by obsessively associating every natural event to some aspect of my life. But for a few moments I'm spending time in another world - a world of natural wonder, myth and legend. I have no problem with that. And thank goddess for the way the mind filters memories. The disappointments are almost always forgotten, but the joyful recollection of the rainbow remains.
As for the rainbow that prompted these notes, I will always recall the place and the time, because it was significant - to me. I'm finally feeling truly at home in my new digs, and have much to look forward to. The future looks bright, and I'm grateful that the Universe agrees. For now, at least, all the pieces seem to fit, and everything's coming together. If noticing that my inner and outer worlds intersect so perfectly for a brief moment in time makes me a magical thinker, well then, so be it.
- G.P.

Night Life

Sleep is one of my favourite pastimes, although it's probably better to describe my pleasure as falling asleep. I love those moments just before I drift into unconsciousness, when I am neither awake nor asleep. After a hard day of work or play, and if I'm not worried or upset about anything, I look forward to retiring to my bed, so that I can experience that delicious feeling of floating between the realms of wakefulness and slumber. While my body drains of its tensions, my mind wanders freely in the space in-between. Visions appear, even when my eyes are open and I'm staring at nothing in particular in the semi-darkness.

These visions are known as hypnogogic hallucinations, (from the Greek words hypnos for "sleep," and agogeus, meaning "guide.") The hallucinations experienced when one transits from sleeping to waking are called hypnopompic. I've experienced both these transitory states for as long as I can remember. I'm in good company. William Blake, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Edgar Allen Poe, Lewis Carroll and Carl Jung are just a few individuals who explored this state and used it as a source of inspiration for their writing. (I wish I could cite a famous female artist, but my research hasn't turned any up!)

The semi-conscious state of falling asleep is the only time I really enjoy a "sinking" feeling, both physically and mentally. I swear I can feel my bedclothes fold around me, as if protecting me while I fall deeper into sleep. These ideal conditions for fabulous sleeping don't always happen, because I am subject to stresses and worries just like everyone else, but whenever I hit the sack feeling pleasantly drowsy, I look forward to the safest, most natural trip down the rabbit hole I can imagine. Strange, inexplicable, and beautiful images float before my eyes. Sometimes I forget that I'm hallucinating, and will sit up in bed and try to grab the illusive visions before me, especially if they appear to be at least a little "normal," such as a bird that has flown through a window and flutters about the room. However, seeing dozens of tiny spiders crawling across my pillow in the wee hours of the morning can be a little alarming, to say the least. Those sort of visions have a way of bringing me back to full consciousness very quickly. So I collect myself for a moment, shake off the cobwebs, and lie back down for another late-night show.

These in-between states are just a prelude for what's to come. The night is still ahead of me, and with it, dreamtime. But that's a topic for another time. Until then, I wish you sound and restful sleep, and a magical journey arriving there.

-G.P.

Excerpt 1 from my upcoming picture book,
The Lady in The Woods

It was in the early spring, on a day full of hope and promise. Feeling courageous and carefree, I had stepped off the well-worn path that wound its way through the woods, and found myself in a whole new world.

Oh, but it was grand to go where I had never ventured before! The earth was moist and pungent with new life just waiting to be born. A profound longing drove me onward, though I knew not where.

Eventually I came upon a bright clearing, deep in the heart of the woods. In the middle of the meadow was a charming stone cottage that seemed to glow with a light all its own. The bushes and flowers that surrounded the little house were in full bloom, weeks ahead of the nearby woods.

Book illustration, design + layout: Shauna Rae — www.shaunarae.ca

“The Lady in The Woods”
Book illustration, design + layout: Shauna Rae — www.shaunarae.ca