An invaluable lesson from Tony Goldwyn

The strangest thing happened to me last night. So strange that I had to take some time to process what happened because of how and where it happened. Particularly since it came from a source I least expected but a lesson I was meant to receive and learn came through loud and clear. A lesson that is forcing me to come out of the closet about one of my guilty pleasures. Forcing me to come out of the closet about my fear of publicly speaking about my writing.

I am so addicted to ABC’s Scandal that I watch something about it every single day. So much so that my children and husband now roll their eyes up in their heads when they walk past my computer and see I am watching yet another thing about Scandal. Like a true addict,  I am so embarrassed to be watching another interview with Kerry Washington, Tony Goldwyn or Shonda Rhimes that when one of my family members walk by, I quickly switch the screens so I don’t have to see the look of disgust on their faces! Crazy that I came into this whole Scandal thing so late but now I am so hooked I can’t seem to get enough of it. But I regress.

The strange thing happened to me was while watching an interview with Tony Goldwyn on Spreecast from 2013 on YouTube ( an amazing invention by the way - You Tube that is). Tony said something that struck a chord so deep within me that I felt like he had been delivered to me at the moment for a reason. An angel least expected.

In response to a question posed by Tangela, who is probably the greatest fan of Scandal, about making it without a name, Tony told her that having talent is only a small percentage of making it, that 10% of success comes from inspiration while 90% of it comes from perspiration. He described how watching an actor from Breaking Bad do his job with an intense passion proved to him that anybody can make their dreams come true.  But first we have to believe in our own dreams and work hard to make them happen. To not be afraid to tell people about them. To not be afraid to talk about them all the time. To not be afraid to speak into existence what we most desire and dream about. And then not be afraid to do the work to make our dreams happen.

A light bulb went off in my head when I heard his words. I am very passionate about writing and have been since I can remember but I allowed others to diminish my passion by accepting them telling me everyone wants to be a writer and anyone can write. By believing them when they questioned why I thought I was more special than anyone else who is aspiring to be a writer. So for years, including now, I have hidden my writing. Kept it almost as if it is a dirty little secret that only certain people are allowed to know. Almost as if I am too ashamed to expose this writing thing that gets me up in the morning. That sets the tone for the day.

I realized without a doubt that I have hidden that aspect of myself because it does not fit the persona that I project every single day. That controlled woman who goes out and gets things done because when I write I have no control over what comes out of me. In order to write authentically, I am forced to let go and let be. To allow the words to come from a place that I don’t even know where the place is. Nor do I understand.

I also realized I don’t have personal photos attached to my blog , instead I have an image of a spiritual woman because at least then I can still hide behind her image rather than showing who I am for what I am. Hearing Tony Goldwyn speak last night made me realize why I was led to interviews because through him I was being led to a truth about myself.  The truth is if writing is my dream, I have to claim it for what it is, go with the flow and speak it to anyone who will listen rather than being afraid of who will discover what I write and whether my readers will like what I write.

Writing is a very personal thing because it comes from places deep within. Places where there are no right or wrong. No rhyme or reason. Only what is meant to be. And it is my passion. My gift. And I am owning it. Claiming it for what it is and what it makes me.

So today world look out because I’m coming out. I want the world to know. Got to let it show. I am a writer and I am proud of it. Two guilty pleasures colliding to help me to understand I am my writing and my writing is me.

Touching story of a man who sees cancer as his gift

My husband told me a touching story the other night. The story about a man we know who looked death in the eye only to experience the greatest joy he has ever felt. The story of a man who told my husband that if he had to do it all again, he would not change a single thing. You see this man is fighting cancer – an aggressive cancer that came out of the blue. A cancer that nearly claimed him on several occasions. A cancer that has caused him so much pain. Yet he sees this cancer, his cancer as a gift, as something he would not change.

Through cancer this man has been able to see with clear eyes the suffering in the world. So much pain that he was not aware of before or had chosen to ignore. He has seen people with the fronts of their face completely ravaged by cancer but still these people encourage him on and tell him he is going to be okay. He has seen children, young children, as skeletal as he was during his worst who still find reason to play and have fun.

He has heard the anguish of a mother who wanted the doctors to know she could not die because she has children. Heard her anguished cries to save her from death. To give her more time. And then when she realized she was not alone in the room, walked to his curtains, opened them, stood and looked at him. Their eyes locking. Their souls connecting. Their stories told to each other without words ever being spoken. Their shared pain understood in that twenty second frame. An intimate moment, without uttering a word, connecting them on a level he has never connected with anyone in his life before. Letting him know there is more to communication than words. More to life than we can ever understand until we face our own mortality. Our own glimpse into death.

He told my husband about the day he asked to walk outside after undergoing intense chemo treatments. Robbing him of his vitality and strength. Refusing a taxi ride to the apartment he was to share with his wife for the weekend because he felt the urge to be outside. Felt the urge to feel and experience life. Not through a window. Not through an enclosure but through being in it. And when he got outside, he looked up and around and saw life through the eyes of a child experiencing it for the first time – the blue sky, the green grass, the abundance and vividness of colour from the flowers and he began to sob. Uncontrollably sob because what he was taking in was life at its very best in its simplest form. The beauty of nature. He was seeing and experiencing pure and unadulterated joy in a way he had never experienced it before.

He fell to the ground - his senses overwhelmed and titillated by the beauty he was experiencing through the eyes of a man who had been to hell and back again during his chemo treatments. Rendering him speechless because he was so full of joy. So full of life. So full of gratitude. His wife panicking thinking he was in pain. Not realizing what he was experiencing was an appreciation for the beauty that we walk past every single day. The beauty we take for granted. The beauty we do not see or appreciate because it is so every day. So passé.

My husband, without realizing it, was the man’s angel for the day. Allowing him to express all the joy and life he has experienced as a result of his pain. As a result of his cancer. As a result of his brush with death.  My husband said he knew the man needed him on a level he could not explain so he stood and let the man talk. Let the man cry. Let the man feel and express the romance of the life he was living as a result of his pain.

And when the man was done, my husband hugged him and told him he was honored to have had the opportunity to listen and to experience what the man had experienced. That he was honored to have shared such an intimate moment with the man. And then their time was done. Each walking away a different man. One whose burden was less heavy and the other whose step was much lighter.

Because what the man did not realize was that he was my husband’s angel as well. Reminding him about the joy of life from its simplicity. Nudging him to know how quickly life can change and how he too must appreciate living as much as he can.

Two men brought together, my husband and this man, to remind each other there is no greater joy than gratitude and living life as fully as they can. Tears of pain that lead to tears of joy. Joy and pain. Pain and joy – one in the same. Two men in a parking lot framed by life itself. In all its joy and pain. In all their joy and pain. Namaste.