*****
no control. taking chances. not knowing what's coming. all this enters my mind as I begin to fully realize that the people, places and things in my life will roll forward without my being able to control them one way or another. Of course, I realize it's up to me how I face these moments, how I take them in and what I do with them. That's my choice.
I used to spend a lot of time hyper-aware of tailoring the image of how others saw me. making sure i always did the right (or, more specifically, what i thought was the right) thing to do for the occasion. Tried hard not to disappoint, then would wonder why it was that i was exhausted and always felt like taking a nap. I remember learning a very valuable lesson regarding the real versus the manufactured after i left my job at Spin and started working at a record company. In retrospect, this lesson resonates now more than it did then.
When i was a journalist sort, it was contingent on the artists to be nice (or naughty, depending on their reputation) so that I (the writer) would put together a piece reflecting the message that they wanted telegraphed to the world. I was quite sure that Nirvana, the humans, wanted nothing more than to have me infiltrating the nooks and crannies of their personal lives stumbling upon potentially embarrassing details, the members of Pearl Jam were just thrilled that I was lurking around their stage with a polaroid camera occasionally tripping over a mike stand or some such (oops), the Metallica boys couldn't be happier seeing me prowl through their home recording studio asking questions of the gardener and so on. It was my job to uncover these bits and pieces, but what I didn't always get was the degree to which these scenarios were tailored and lived out. I was seeing and finding mostly what they wanted me to see and find. And usually I was met with nothing but acquiescence, yet what was going on inside their heads I really couldn't know—even if I pretended that I did.
Then the veil was pulled back. I defected to the business side, joined the camp of the suits—and actually started getting a decent paycheck. But here was some truth-telling, the artists got to be more honest—at least the ones whose careers were fairly established. No longer was there any subterfuge about what they liked and didn't like. And that was a wake-up call for me. The first time a singer who'd heretofore been nothing but smiles actually snarled at me when I ask him to be a part of a well-known cable channel's music-promotion charade, I was stopped in my tracks. Whaaaat? He used to be so, how you say, nice...what happened? That I don't think he even remembered that he'd met me before really rocked my world.
But even more telling (and valuable) was that I was invited to stop being so agreeable. The fact that I didn't actually know how to do that was a big reason that my career at said record company ended pretty soon after it began. I couldn't come to grips with that concept. To say what I wanted when I felt it. To not be afraid to disappoint someone when I said No. To call it like I saw it. All very foreign concepts for me. But now I'm actually getting what a useful way of living that is. I realize there need to be filters, otherwise we could all end up like four year olds, just saying out loud what we want and see (which actually might be refreshing, but could also make for some really uncomfortable subway experiences and business meetings). Mostly though, as it really dawns on me that I have no control over what people think of me, and I acknowledge once I get out of my own self and realize it's not usually about me, but instead that there are myriad of other things going on in people's heads and hearts that could direct the conversation, I find that there's more air to breathe. It's kind of a relief if I can remember it. Remember to let it all go. Let it all fall where it may.
In an intimate setting, during a smaller than usual class, I found myself moving inside the notes of a song with no words. A tune with a lot of space inside it, but also some sharp edges that I let myself fall into. Into a place where I didn't want to control anything. And apparently that included the sounds coming out of my mouth, which took on a Venus-Williams-down-to-her-final-set-at-Wimbledon kind of noise, but afterward I felt completely emptied out in a really good way. I realized that for those moments, I didn't seem to give a fCK-all about how I was being seen (keeping in mind that I'm among a group of women where I feel really safe). And I looked at the places in my life where I let myself go honestly with no desire to control. There aren't as many as there could be—especially branching out into the places where I don't have the support of friends/lover, but I intend to find more bravery in order to let myself and others catch a bit more air. Let them be masters of their own thoughts and I of mine. It's inevitable that I'm going to disappoint people, and they me. Where I'm going to please people, and they me. And that's rather thrilling!
*****(about the photo) and again I find the Ballerina Project speaking to my aesthetic sense. this brave (not least for the reason that she's laying her body on the ground of a subway platform....eeek) photo was taken at the station across from my apartment. Clearly not shot during rush hour. see (&buy if you're inclined) their work here.
I used to spend a lot of time hyper-aware of tailoring the image of how others saw me. making sure i always did the right (or, more specifically, what i thought was the right) thing to do for the occasion. Tried hard not to disappoint, then would wonder why it was that i was exhausted and always felt like taking a nap. I remember learning a very valuable lesson regarding the real versus the manufactured after i left my job at Spin and started working at a record company. In retrospect, this lesson resonates now more than it did then.
When i was a journalist sort, it was contingent on the artists to be nice (or naughty, depending on their reputation) so that I (the writer) would put together a piece reflecting the message that they wanted telegraphed to the world. I was quite sure that Nirvana, the humans, wanted nothing more than to have me infiltrating the nooks and crannies of their personal lives stumbling upon potentially embarrassing details, the members of Pearl Jam were just thrilled that I was lurking around their stage with a polaroid camera occasionally tripping over a mike stand or some such (oops), the Metallica boys couldn't be happier seeing me prowl through their home recording studio asking questions of the gardener and so on. It was my job to uncover these bits and pieces, but what I didn't always get was the degree to which these scenarios were tailored and lived out. I was seeing and finding mostly what they wanted me to see and find. And usually I was met with nothing but acquiescence, yet what was going on inside their heads I really couldn't know—even if I pretended that I did.
Then the veil was pulled back. I defected to the business side, joined the camp of the suits—and actually started getting a decent paycheck. But here was some truth-telling, the artists got to be more honest—at least the ones whose careers were fairly established. No longer was there any subterfuge about what they liked and didn't like. And that was a wake-up call for me. The first time a singer who'd heretofore been nothing but smiles actually snarled at me when I ask him to be a part of a well-known cable channel's music-promotion charade, I was stopped in my tracks. Whaaaat? He used to be so, how you say, nice...what happened? That I don't think he even remembered that he'd met me before really rocked my world.
But even more telling (and valuable) was that I was invited to stop being so agreeable. The fact that I didn't actually know how to do that was a big reason that my career at said record company ended pretty soon after it began. I couldn't come to grips with that concept. To say what I wanted when I felt it. To not be afraid to disappoint someone when I said No. To call it like I saw it. All very foreign concepts for me. But now I'm actually getting what a useful way of living that is. I realize there need to be filters, otherwise we could all end up like four year olds, just saying out loud what we want and see (which actually might be refreshing, but could also make for some really uncomfortable subway experiences and business meetings). Mostly though, as it really dawns on me that I have no control over what people think of me, and I acknowledge once I get out of my own self and realize it's not usually about me, but instead that there are myriad of other things going on in people's heads and hearts that could direct the conversation, I find that there's more air to breathe. It's kind of a relief if I can remember it. Remember to let it all go. Let it all fall where it may.
In an intimate setting, during a smaller than usual class, I found myself moving inside the notes of a song with no words. A tune with a lot of space inside it, but also some sharp edges that I let myself fall into. Into a place where I didn't want to control anything. And apparently that included the sounds coming out of my mouth, which took on a Venus-Williams-down-to-her-final-set-at-Wimbledon kind of noise, but afterward I felt completely emptied out in a really good way. I realized that for those moments, I didn't seem to give a fCK-all about how I was being seen (keeping in mind that I'm among a group of women where I feel really safe). And I looked at the places in my life where I let myself go honestly with no desire to control. There aren't as many as there could be—especially branching out into the places where I don't have the support of friends/lover, but I intend to find more bravery in order to let myself and others catch a bit more air. Let them be masters of their own thoughts and I of mine. It's inevitable that I'm going to disappoint people, and they me. Where I'm going to please people, and they me. And that's rather thrilling!
*****(about the photo) and again I find the Ballerina Project speaking to my aesthetic sense. this brave (not least for the reason that she's laying her body on the ground of a subway platform....eeek) photo was taken at the station across from my apartment. Clearly not shot during rush hour. see (&buy if you're inclined) their work here.
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