Just last week a good buddy and I were discussing our binge-watching habits. His favorite show to binge on is “Expanse” – describing it as a cross between “Game of Thrones” and “Star Wars.”
“Geez,” I texted back, “Not my taste – I’m sticking with ‘The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.’”
He was not surprised. “You remind me of her – your smartass humor and the totally genuine way you tell stories about your own experiences. You connect to people!!! “
I kinda put our chat on the back burner because the staged reading of the play based on my book The Secret Life of a Weight Obsessed Woman was the next night.
How’d it go?
Think back in time to…
the date that bombed
the brilliant paper you wrote that got a C+
the bad wardrobe choice
the tasteless joke you told
The second reading of the play went very similar to both the above and the first staged reading in Los Angeles. The cast was great and the directing effective. But once again, I only could see the flaws in the written script, the missed opportunities for humor, the redundancies and the paralyzing amount of extraneous detail.
I took a risk and got a disappointing outcome.
I think about the marvelous Mrs. Maisel.
She takes chances and emotional gambles
She wants her voice to be heard
She embraces the idea that it’s never too late to find that voice
And an integral part of her success and drive is dependent on her ability to reach out to those she holds close and allow them to help her in her quest to be the best she can be.
Like Mrs. Maisel, I try to follow my heart, embrace my own authenticity and find my tribe. I constantly hone my craft, believe humor is healing, and that honestly fosters healthy relationships – though I – like Mrs. Maisel – clearly grapple with how much to reveal of personal entanglements.
Two days later, my Daily Calm app provides a respite from my dark ruminations. Tamara Levitt talks about the principle of change in the story: “Maybe”
There once was a farmer whose horse ran away.
Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit.
“Such bad fortune,” they said, full of sympathy.
“Maybe,” the farmer said.
The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three more horses.
“What great fortune,” the neighbors said.
“Maybe,” said the old man.
The following day the farmer’s son tried to ride one of the untamed horses.
He was thrown off and broke his leg, resulting in a life-long limp.
“What terrible fortune.” the neighbors said.
“Maybe,” answered the farmer.
The next morning the army came through the farmer’s village to draft young able-bodied men for the war.
Seeing the farmer’s son’s leg, they passed him by.
The neighbors congratulated the farmer.
“What wonderful fortune,” they said.
“Maybe,” said the farmer.
Tamara Levitt’s response: It’s hard to know which experiences will turn out to be fortuitous and which will be unfortunate because everything is constantly changing. All we can control is how we meet each moment. The bad news is nothing lasts forever. The good news is nothing lasts forever.
The staged reading was for me a cringe-worthy event but I’m not cringing any longer. Instead, I’m busily perusing the evaluation sheets from the theater goers, meeting with some attendees privately and holding three get-togethers at my house for free-fall feedback – and of course – I’m back at my computer re-creating, revising and re-writing once again.
The nature of change makes life impossible to predict. Who knows, maybe the third staged-reading will be celebration worthy. It’s wise to suspend worry as to what the future holds – because you can be sure change is just around the corner.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor