Tag Archives: roadtrip

Morning Calls

I just felt like writing to you this morning! What a gorgeous Monday morning (I can hardly believe I said that). But it is. My dog just found his way downstairs after a lazy nap, and is now staring at his plaything, and sniffing a shoe. Just getting ready to move from sleep into action. Like me. It’s 8 0′clock, and “All’s Quiet on the Moore Front”. There is no enemy hovering over the hill, only the sun rising up over trees dancing in the breeze. So lovely!

What are you doing this morning?

I swear I just saw a monk passing the entrance to my driveway, or a woman brightly dressed in brilliant orange robes, sandals on her slow-moving feet.  This vision reminded me of travel, of worlds beyond this one. Where I see, smell and hear everything new…

morning walk

I will be going to California soon, for the first time, with my husband. Though I cheat, I have been there before, if only for a moment: getting out of the car (coming down from Nevada) into the Mojave Desert, five months pregnant, standing in the hot and silent sun, a cave of inner listening. I picked up  a rock there, a black lavic looking rock which was warm in my hands. I could only hear my breathing, and the hot air just hanging there and the sound of my feet in the sand. It was as if my own heart was beating the world into existence. I kept that rock as a talisman.

I am looking forward to rediscovering California from the eastern coastal ride up Highway 1…  San Diego….  Santa Monica…. LA (briefly, but must see the basics!)…. Carmel… maybe a mission or two… and then San Fransisco where I will meet my lovely ladie(s) that I have been talking to for over a year. I can’t wait to meet you (you know who you are).

My inner world is changing too. I no longer feel worried all the time as I used to. I feel an inner calm, of being in charge of my own destiny. And Grace too.  It’s magic, and it makes me giggle at times! (A wicked kind of giggle, my husband says).

Ah…. what can I share with you?  That is what I think now.  What can I be today that I haven’t been or done before. What is new. I feel that call now, pulling me to something greater, that beautiful, magical feeling that life is better than OK. It is not to be resisted or lamented. It is to be taken in, held and created like a warm ball of life, like that hot lavic rock melting in my hands.

Everything succumbs eventually to the sound of silence, to the sound of the primordial Yes.

I hear my call. I more than accept.

What is calling to you?

Day 26: Confidence

Confidence. Where does that come from? How does one situation bring out the “worst” in us, and another the “best”?  How does something which seemed impossible and forever “Far Away” suddenly seem close, doable and “no-problemo”?

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about a bad audition. Remember that? And how I felt “Intimidated”. I did my best. I prepared. I did everything I should. Everything! But nothing would make me feel comfortable. Something was off. And, I discovered, it wasn’t just me.

But that’s not the point. it’s not about blame. It’s not about saying “well that’s just the way it is” or “it’s this person’s fault”. Dumb people!  There is no question that some circumstances seem blessed, and others bound to fail. Maybe it’s luck, and maybe it’s something not so obvious.

In the last week and a half I’ve had 3 auditions that were very different. Do you know what changed?

Me.

I got tired of trying to please. Trying to be “on” all the time. Trying to be the “actor”.  I thought:

“What the hell do I have to lose? Why not just do it the way I want?Not try too hard – relax, go to bed early, get up, get ready and go do it.  “No big deal”.

And it wasn’t a big deal – why give it more energy than it’s worth? Why make a big fuss like I usually do (and make everyone miserable in the process)?

And it worked!  Somehow the magic spell was cast of : “No big deal”  Whether I got the part or not, I don’t know. But something in me changed.

It’s not that I didn’t care. But I cared less. I was “carefree”.

I was more concerned with myself, my own happiness, than whether I was doing it “right”, or they liked me or not.

Funny thing is, I think they did! I got some good vibes.  I didn’t get as nervous. I still did my best (but how much more can you do, really?). There was no more to do.

Where does confidence come from? Maybe it’s me. Or maybe it’s Grace. Maybe it’s picking your numbers right like Russian Roulette. I don’t think so.

It isn’t chance that got me this way. It’s that moment of Grace to give in and finally say – “I’m not concerned”.  “I was born this way”.  “I’m OK. I’ve got what it takes. That’s enough!  If they don’t like it – tough!”

That’s not defensive. That’s sane, right and confident.  Sometimes you have to be that way. Sometimes you have to take care of yourself. Sometimes you have to say, “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn!”

Oh, I was nice. Don’t get me wrong. But not caring too much is half the charm.

roadtrip to "Confidence"

P.S. One more thing may have helped – those fancy new shoes I wore on the last day. I purchased them on a road trip to PA with my girlfriend.  Riding in a convertible with the top down,  wind in my hair, strappy sandal heels over newly painted toes  – fuschia.Something good about life, there. Something good about life, period.

There is nothing more to do tonight. Except a little glass of wine to celebrate, and relax. For another day, another surprise, another circumstance, another rainbow. Or a great big rain!. A glorious lightning show (remember, that?).

Ah, Life is Good. Let me just leave it at that.

Day 8: Keeper of the Flame

I am back from Kingston, home of my birth, and feeling quite reflective on what I found there…  Not only did I find my grandmother in a new hospital by the lake, doing relatively well (see Let Sleeping Lions Lie);  I found myself with my mother, and countless photos and letters dug up among boxes and boxes of stuff in my grandmother’s sun-porch…

Nanna's sunporch

In these boxes, we found my great-great grandparents Lawrence E. Moore and Emma Belle Deacon staring out from their front porch rockers in Haileybury…

Lawrence and Emma Moore on the front porch in Haileybury 1920s

and their seven daughters (my great aunts), girls and women in tranquil Georgian-style dresses lounging on the front swing with flowers in their hair, or leaning with snowshoes and warm-mittened hands against the family’s seemingly chicken-wired fence;  my gr-great grandmother Emma standing solidly with her youngest one wrapped around her skirt, she looking quite tired but still strong in the heat of days… and another where she smiles brightly to camera, which delighted me beyond measure.

Moore Women in Cobalt

These are the Moores I had always wanted to know, to play cards with at the dining room table (which is now in my mother’s dining room); to tell stories with, laugh with…   I see Emma playing the  mouth organ (which is now in my grandmother’s hall closet); I hear their old Irish twang and crazy war-time songs (I shall never repeat them here - we were Protestant Northern Irish, if that says enough).

Moore women at dining table

Emma Moore playing the mouth organ

I feel like I know these women. I am bonded to them.  I am proud to be one of them. I see myself in their tall languid frames, the way they held their hands, tilted their heads, played up to camera. The Moore Women.

I am a part of a long, and timeless heritage of strength and self-assurance. Of continuity. Of beauty. And of rebuilding. Death after death has taken them. But their faces tell me another story; they are still here, in my blood and in those whom I love now.

My grandmother had protected and shielded these treasures for years and years. She didn’t have the heart to go through them, or dispose of anything. I’m glad she didn’t. I’m glad I had the opportunity with my mother to get on my hands and knees and know this family I inherited.

The details won’t matter so much. The garbage bins will go out; the trinkets will disappear. But their eyes, their hands, their laughter and their tears will never go out in me.

I am blessed to be here, the Keeper of the Flame.

Me in my red boots in Nanna's backyard

P.S. I will be posting more family finds in my other blog, That’s Relative!..    Thank you for visiting.