Once, all at once, I saw it all

When I listen to the world,
besides the never ending ringing in my ears
and the air vents vibrating the room
and my dog having a dream
and the microwave telling my mother her leftovers are done
and the cuckoo clock ticking in the front hall
and my fingers plunking away and scratching my chest
and the air rushing in my lungs and out
and the birds outside the window
and all the other noises these sounds are drowning out:
is it silent? No. The world is not silent.
The world is telling us what needs doing, all the time.
Learn, and Listen
with ears
with eyes
with closed mouths
with open mouths--
the music of it all,

the cacophony. The dissonant humming
making its way
in through our ear canals
up into our brains and
down into our hearts
where it echoes like lost love
as it grieves its own death
and rejoices in its new birth.

Once, all at once,
I saw it all.
All at once.
Crying and laughing and crying and laughing
louder and louder against
the wind and the darkening clouds while the ground gets ready
the tide creeping up carrying messages from the deep sea
the moonrise a year in the making:
the empty moon, blacked out and hollow like
an empy heart
ready to be filled.

That is how the world answers me
when I ask
What do you need?
Your heart.
Your heart.
Your heart.

full moon got me like...

Maaaaan, this full moon cycle is hitting me really hard. Not sleeping well, and the waning hours of daylight are heavy and depressing. Lethargy is pulling my body around my house while I wait for something to lift. Depression isn't just mental, it's deeply physical. Mostly in my stomach. Body aches. Disembodiment cloud of fog. I am here.

Just last week I got great news from my transplant doctor: basically I'm doing really well physically. I've stopped my immuno-suppressant drug; which I have been on for over three years. It was what was keeping my new immune system at bay until it got used to living inside my body, a foreigner. I'm lucky that I am able to get off of this drug- any other type of transplant, you have to be on anti-rejection drugs for the rest of your life and you will always be immuno-suppressed. Mine's a special case: since I got my immune system replaced, there is a chance that I would be able to get off the drug eventually. And, hooray. It's happened. It is no small thing. I've been off of it for a couple months now, and none of my organs are shutting down.  It is no small thing.

I'm grateful. My doctor actually smiled at me, told me: "You don't need us anymore" and then gave me a hug. It is no small thing. As I hugged him in his white coat; I said "thank you" and it felt like I was actually thanking him for saving my life, for the first time. I didn't need to say anything else. I couldn't, really. Just "thank you."

I just performed in a movement piece a couple weekends back- after devising the show for two months. It was incredible to be in my body for the first time and feel like it somewhat belonged to me. It's been a long time since I've felt that way. I loved performing. It is no small thing. I really didn't know, until now, that I love performing. That I need to do that.

I performed a heartbreaking physical theatre show four times in a single night: cried through most of it as I embodied a girl growing up, getting caught up into sex trafficking and drugs, having an internal war with herself and finally finding an arm up, which was from inside her. It doesn't end happily. It ends hopeful, I guess. But it was where the real work began. The end was the beginning.

Getting to the point of embodying the headspace of trauma was not what was difficult. I have a well to draw from. We all do. The hardest part was that exact realization. There is no other. We all embody trauma. The woman I embodied was me. It was you. Your daughter. Your sister. My sister.

I was overcome after creating this work (and discovered even more while performing it) of the strength once again of human beings. This woman, this one story we told through movement, is the story of strength. It isn't the story of pity, or the story of weakness. It is the story of bravery. No one is immune to trauma- internal and external. What amazed me was embodying this woman who went through most of her life hating herself, disembodying, disassociating. But in the end, her liberation came from within her. She had to choose to get out. She made the move to do it. Every single time we got to the end of the show, there is a reveal- and even though I knew- actor-brain-wise what was going to be revealed... I was shocked every single time. Honestly, earnestly and authentically. I didn't feel I was acting. I was embodying. I've never had this experience before. Not like this.

So here I am, approaching the end of 2016: job searching, a totaled car, lethargy and depression steeping in me like earl grey. And yet. This time last year I had recently been released from the hospital after one of the most dehumanizing experiences of my life; depressed and entering the literal darkness of this time of year. I am not her anymore. I am a year older, wiser. I see what is happening to me- the full moon or whatever it is, and I can call it out on its' shit. I see you, depression. You are not me. You are not who I am. You try to own me sometimes, but you don't. And that is no small thing.

Approaching this new year with a curiosity. I have almost no idea what will happen in the future. Job searching is lonely and difficult, but I am also just curious. What WILL happen?

I'm lucky to have what I have. I have a body that is still alive, for better or for worse (bit of both). I have discovered what I am meant for: theatre. performance. directing. devising. writing. creating. Not everyone can say either of these things. I am lucky. It is no small thing.

So, full moon: effing bring it. I'm gonna put on my running shoes and leave the house today, even though most of me is saying no, just curl up and die. I'm gonna put on music that inspires me to be a better human. I will be unafraid to read or think things that make me cry or feel overwhelmed by the idea of the world. Beauty and Terror in everything, is everything. Because feeling these things reminds me that I am alive. And that is no small thing.