I read this really good quote about the loss of a soul mate, whether for now or for ever. I read this really good quote—"we must somehow come to understand that our separation is just as significant as our coming together.” (Satya Colombo)
And this reminds me of this importance of bringing ourselves back to ourselves. Of grounding in to our selves. Of trusting our selves. This is often hard to do. Especially when we have others in our life who fill that need to feel grounded. Or safe. To feel loved. Now don’t get me wrong. These connections with others, they are this beautiful thing. We are community beings and these deep dives with those of our tribe… well you know. But sometimes (often) they become a need not a gift. We seek them out for outside input. And we forget that our soul mates are our mirrors. We think they are our maker. Our other half. The one that completes us. The place we find love. And often it feels like a sacred contract. This soul connection, it feels like an agreement was made and this contract, it is binding. And here’s the thing. It is. This sacred contract, it is binding, but not to who we think it is. We think it is a soul contract with another when this contract, it is really a sacred contract with ourselves. This is the life dance with the Creator. With the Universe. With the oneness of us with each other. With the oneness of us with ourselves. And so our soul friends. Maybe we do get to dance this dance throughout this lifetime of humanness. Because it is healthy and wise and full of grace and love. Or maybe we now must separate, because the connection enables that other bucket of need and validation. Of good enough and not enough. And maybe we now must separate. And then we are reminded. Because the pain is deep. The loss is great. The void is big. Like really big. Like huge. And so the only choice is to turn internal. To take the separation and the loss of that love that this other soul gave us and find it in the only place that it truly exists really anyway. Inside us. This is the great lesson. The cosmic teaching. The home we seek and the space we can really only ever truly ground into. So I’m in this play. That I wrote about a few weeks ago. A play about a house that is a home that I am in.
And it’s amazing. Like truly. Not just the play and this role of Maddy Van Allen, this woman that I get to be that is now me. It’s not just that. It’s that these other actors are this incredible collection of souls that keep showing up in this deep and open-hearted way that truly is just beautiful. And so this play. I am loving this. And I am good at this. And this feels, God, so good. And as this past weekend started—this past weekend, second weekend of this four-week run—as this weekend’s first Friday night and then Saturday night runs ran, I felt…oh, here is Maddy and I am along for this ride. It’s a sweet juxtaposition that happens with my acting. Once I know my characters, and they know me, we get to integrate, where they are me. And then it is a channeling. It happens with my coaching, too. Where this higher self, wise wisdom weaver shows up and I just sit back and watch from this small place in my brain that makes a point to make note when the words are worth remembering for another time. I get to watch and trust, and in turn, these spirits from above that drop in to share their knowledge and creativity and intuition, they know that I’ve got them. I am a safe place to land. And can, when the moment calls for a recalibration of the vibrations that arise, shift from within and align back to balance. With acting, it’s like this, too. Maddy gets to show up on stage each night and I get to ride along with her. I get to see where she’s at, what she does, how she moves. Always a bit surprised when she does something new. And always keeping gentle watch. There is a trust in this. In the me that is me. A trust that it is safe for Maddy to show up. Because I’ve got this. If she strays to far afar, I can move her back in place. But yesterday, Maddy lost her way and I was nowhere to be found. When I first got off stage, I thought I was upset that I fucked up my lines. Like so deeply upset. I seldom am this upset when I fuck up my lines. I may not like it but it doesn’t upset me this deeply because I always recover. I always find a way to make it work. I trust this. And my character—in this moment, Maddy—trusts this, too. She knows I’ve got this and she can be. But tonight. “Why was I so deeply upset that I fucked up my lines?” I asked my inner self through my tears. And then quickly moved through the “I fucked up my lines” to land squarely in the “I’m upset because I fucked up my lines. I’m upset because I couldn’t recover from fucking up my lines.” I lost the stability that is necessary. I was nowhere around to save me. This is not surprising to me now. That this happened. As I reflect today on what this is really about. It was surprising when it happened yesterday because this doesn’t happen. One of the things that I trust that is true is that I can land on myself in those times where things are out of balance, when things go astray, when conversations pivot into a new direction, when lines are lost on stage. When action is required, my ability to respond is always right there. Except yesterday, it wasn’t. This is not surprising to me as I reflect on this today because this is exactly what I am exploring in the work that I am doing these days. It’s somatic work. And deeply moving as I move through those hidden traumas that my body has held for quite some time. And what I am exploring in this work these days is the idea of internal safety. The Universe picked yesterday, during this show that I value so deeply, to tell me something important. In this moment of instability, where I was nowhere to be found, in just this moment where I needed me the most, the Universe, she picked this moment to show me something. By the end of the scene, Maddy was back. And so was I. And it was probably the best performance ending that I’ve given so far in this run. Like what the fuck… Because I am a bit pissed, like very pissed. The Universe, she picked a performance as her time to drop in this lesson for me to explore. And I am pissed. And she is smart. This wasn’t an accident. The Universe, she always knows exactly what she is doing. I don’t have an answer to why she picked this moment. This moment that is important. This moment where I am doing something I love. This moment where my creativity is full and rich and vulnerable. This moment where my trust in me is essential to who I am. To who Maddy is. To my fellow actors. To this audience that I strive to show up for in the best way. I don’t have an answer why the Universe picked this moment. Oh, the answer is there. I just can’t see it yet. I will sit in this a while. |
Elizabeth RoseMother, Wife, Friend, Sister, Daughter, Dancer, Rower, Runner, Dog and Cat lover. Archives
December 2024
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