Category: authenticity

action · authenticity · fear · growth · jealousy

Just Dessert.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So I literally don’t know if I came up with this, or read or
heard it recently. I’ve tried going through the last few pages of the books I’m
reading, and can’t find it – but, no matter.
“It’s like putting our gifts up on a shelf, and then saying,
alright G-d, what’s your will for me?”
That’s what’s occurred to me. No no no, not those old things – they couldn’t possibly have anything to do with what I’m supposed to do
with my life. Those are just, well, hobbies, or qualities I have, or secret
things I like to do – they certainly aren’t Worth While. They certainly don’t
mean anything with regard to a Life Purpose.
Hmm. I like it – the simplicity of it. I’m a fan of
believing I can pause things till I get a handle on them. I’m also a fan of
half-finished projects, trouncing from one interest to another, so as to not
get too invested – and therefore (fear)
disappointed by the end result.
The problem with any of the things I consider as gifts or
interests is that I do abandon them, and
then have very plausible reason for saying I can’t pursue them, or that they’re
not a viable option. Of course I
can’t sing in a band – I quit taking voice lessons. Of course I can’t play in a band – I quit taking guitar
lessons. Of course I can’t use my
writing as a stream of income – I haven’t submitted anything.
Oh, clarity. How my fears hate the light of day. And,
granted, it’s just the light of today – likely, I’ll forget all this sometime
later today or tomorrow – until I’m once again presented with the pang of
jealousy toward people who are doing the
things I want to do.
You sing in a band? You edited a published book? You sold a
painting? You went on a vacation? You traveled in Europe? You live in a warm
climate? ;P
That last one – well, we’ll leave that alone for now. Although
I will tell you, my Magic 8 ball tells me that I won’t be here in the Bay Area
at the end of the year. … Truth be told.
One of the great things about some of the folks I’m now in
with is that I watch and hear how they turn jealousy into action. That’s the
thing about jealousy for me, at least. If I say to myself, “I could do that
[better, is implied],” then what I’m really saying is I want to do that.
I remember back in college, I would feel visceral pangs of
resentment and jealousy when I would walk into an open mic night to watch other people play. Sometimes I
had to in fact leave because I was so pissed that I (as I understand it now)
couldn’t let myself try.
So the phrase sparks something new – a new awareness of the
patterns of my dream abandonment. I have these nudges, but I discount them and the qualities they could bring to my life as not valid. I thereby stand at the
smorgasbord of life and say nothing looks good. Basically, I say that the cake
and cookies are for other people – not for me. I need the limp kale to get
along in life.
As a metaphor, I would like the cake and cookies. I would
like to understand that anything that I consider “play” is actually a way in
which I’m informing myself of where I’d like to go and what I’d like to do.
Instead of discounting my interests, maybe I should follow them. Instead of
turning back, or judging others, or dismissing my desire for the fun – maybe I
should let myself sink into the gifts and interests that I have.
After all, as they say: Life is short – Eat dessert first. 
authenticity · cool · courage · growth

Stay Cool, Boy

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

“Cool.” It’s something I want. Something I want to be, but
it’s not an acquisition piece.
Cool and Brave were the two things that came up in some
writing yesterday – qualities that I want to be or have more of. Both require
similar levels of self-assurance and self-acceptance.
I went into the word “cool” for myself – what did I mean by
that? What does it mean to me? Well, cool, to me, means being calm, confident,
not boastful, involved in a variety of activities, engaged in the world, having
a sense of ease about oneself and place in the world. Cool means knowing you
have a right to be where you are. Cool means a lack of self-consciousness. And
a lack of worry or fear.
Similar to brave, I imagine.
A few months ago, I fell in desperate infatuation with a
black leather jacket. This is how I want
people to see me. This is how I want to see myself. This piece will make me cool.
See, but it doesn’t work that way. I didn’t buy the jacket
on the spot, and instead received it for half the store price from an online
site as holiday present from my dad. I got the jacket in the mail in December,
and it sat in my closet.
I was scared of this jacket.
What it would mean of me, or of what I projecting into the
world. Can I own this jacket? Not in the
possession way, but in the dominate way? Instead of the jacket wearing me, can
I wear it?
The jacket stayed in my closet until earlier this month. I
would take it out occassionally. Fawn over the delicateness of the leather; the
instant cool it gives. But was it me, or was it the jacket?
Finally, I wore it. I felt both impostor and proud. I felt
both seen and the desire to not be seen – can you see through me as I wear
this? Do you know that I don’t have many tattoos or a Ramones album?
Over the last month, I’ve worn this jacket a few more times.
And each time, it does for me what I hoped it would – it’s helped me to embody
the coolness that, somewhere, I do believe I have – if we define “cool” as I
have above – as a calm sense of self-assuredness and place in this world.
The jacket is becoming a tool, not a costume.
I struggle with my own feelings of worthiness around many
things in this world, including obviously a black leather jacket. But owning
this piece of clothing, this visible statement to the world, helps me to feel
like I’m approaching a different place in it.
No longer content to hide from it. No longer content to hide
who I am in it. Yes, I am that girl in the black leather jacket. And I might even
have heels on, too. 
art · authenticity · courage · honesty · love · maturity

Occupy Life

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Don’t worry, this won’t be a political diatribe.
As perhaps you’ve been garnering from some of the recent
writing, I’m becoming more open to be available to my own life. To occupy it,
as it were.
This has happened slowly, and is still a work in progress.
But I remember back to the “Life of an Asparagus” blog, about beginning to
sense that some of the seeds I’ve been sowing over the last few years are
beginning to peek through, and show me their colors and flavors.
I’m excited by this prospect, and still, afraid of it. Will
the asparagus be green enough? Tender enough? Snappy enough? Will I, as I begin
to show you more of who I am, and what I have to offer, be enough?
The un/fortunate truth is that I don’t really have a choice
to pull the emergency brake here, and say, WHOA buddy, let me make sure that
this is all kosher and “molly-approved” before I put it out there to you.
When I’d been contemplating The Cousin (*not my cousin*) a while ago before we ended, I said to a
friend that I felt like I wanted to put him up on a shelf, to pause him and our
romance. I wanted the time to figure myself out, get “well,” get fixed, and
then take him back down and continue the romance, with me as a whole, well
person.
Problem is, life isn’t like that, and people aren’t like
that. I don’t get to put anything on hold – others, myself, the world, school,
my finances, time – so that I can get a better handle on it.
It’s a constant game of changing the tire while the car is
in motion.
Constantly evolving means being willing to give up control;
to give up the demands for the future.
In all of this “lifeness” that’s going on, however, things
are changing, and have changed, and I find myself at a different place than I
had been, having arrived here somewhat circuitously, but somewhere where things
are, where I am, different.
I haven’t had to pause the world for me to get here. I’ve
had to, in fact, jump on board with the fact that this train is leaving and
will continue to leave, and I can ignore the fact it’s moving, or I can enjoy
the view. And more than that, I can let myself be shaped by its movement.
That “letting myself be shaped” has been the hardest part.
Or one of them. To accept that I’m not exactly sure what I’ll look like, who
I’ll be, and if I’ll or you’ll like me on the other side of it. But keeping my
eyes closed to the brilliance that is outside and inside, well, it’s kept me
pretty lonely and forlorn. And in the end, it’s not fair.
Who am I to shut my eyes to what I’ve been given, what
others are offering me? To the love that is being offered me – the help, and
the hope, and the encouragement, and the desire I’m told for more… of me. Who
am I to deny that?
I begin to think about this, and write this today, as I
start to recognize this new path of thought and action. One which, although I
may not be taking all of the action steps that are suggested, I’m becoming open
to taking them 😉 I see their merit – I see that these actions are helping me
to fill out my life, like an underinflated balloon that could be buoyant and
loved, if it only let itself get full.
Perhaps that analogy fell flat. But, I think I’m
understanding what it means! It means that I’m changing. It means that I’m
becoming more available to my life, and to my gifts, and to others. It means
that I’m beginning to choose community and vulnerability as opposed to
contraction and “safety.”
I’ve had to tell a
few more people a little more about what I’m doing, and what I like to do,
because those were the indicated responses. (I write, I sing, I act, I paint.)
Every time I tell someone one of these things, there is the reactionary twinge
of fear and the cavernous echoing “NO!!!” … but, I do it anyway, now. And every
time I do, I’m staking one more claim to my own life, and allowing it to open
up to me as I open up to it.

authenticity · creativity · fear · fortitude · performance · recovery · responsibility · spirituality

Ready Steady Go

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

About 3 years ago, when I was living in Cole Valley in San
Francisco, I went for a walk. I was packing to go home for a visit, I remember,
and was feeling overwhelmed, and decided to take a walk through my new-ish
neighborhood. I took a left instead of a right, and walked past a sign, The
Sword and The Rose. Maybe you know it. Maybe you’ve walked right by it. As
unless you notice the faded paint on the cracked wooden sign, you wouldn’t know
to walk into the alley between two buildings. You wouldn’t know that beyond the
trash bins was a gate, through which is a sitting garden, overgrown with vined
plants and a running water fountain with a stone bench. Beyond this is a small
one room shop, that looks like a hobbit’s house, and you have to, well, I have
to, duck slightly through the Dutch door.

Inside is one of those curio shops. There’s a small wood
burning stove that always seems lit, around which are two high backed cushioned
chairs with ancient knitted throws. In the cases are crystals of every color and intention,
ones to wear, ones to put on an altar, ones smoothed or raw in form. The shelves are stacked high with
different types of sage to burn, candles created on different days of the week, jars of loose incense with yellowing labels of handwritten ingredients seen only in spell books.
And in the corner is a small circular table set with a stained glass lamp, a shawl, and two small straw woven chairs. It is here that you can have your cards
read.
And once, I did. Not that day, having walked breathlessly
out of my manic and nervous packing session into this stalled garden out of time.
That day when I was able to collect myself in the mystery and magic of the
darkened, perfumed room. But I knew I would be back.
The man read from Native American animal cards, which I’d
never seen or heard of before. I was not very “into” Tarot before, but I have
learned enough to know there are many paths to the mountaintop, so to speak.
It is my belief that under the right circumstances, and with
the proper intention, we are told, not “the future” or the unknown, but rather,
truths about ourselves. It is my experience that what is revealed to me,
through cards, or meditation, or other spiritual practices, are knowledges which I
already hold, which are simply being drawn out from the shadows, or crystallized
in more accessible terms.
So, when the man drew a card he called Grandmother Spider in
my reading, and told me that this card was the most creative and powerful card
in the deck, I was not surprised, but rather challenged. Challenged to live up
to this truth which I had known about myself, and which continues to be
mirrored back to me and bubbled up within me.
You can go Google the card if you like; it says that the
Spider wove the Universe. Is, in essence, the Great Creator. I don’t deign to
think that I am unique in having this spark (truly, I believe we all have it), but I am beginning to honor its
presence in my life.
Performance. People have asked me what I mean when I say I
want to perform. They ask, Act? … And that’s not the entirety of it at all. I
wrote a poem in August of last year, which I’ve pasted below, called
Pyrotechnic Performance. In my first blog-a-day posting on this website in
November, I wrote about it. (Pulling a Carmen.) And, this morning, I wrote
about it, in my Morning Pages. What do I mean by performance? And why am I called to do it?
I’ll quote here from those pages, because this is the
change of course of the Ocean Liner, this is the portend and promise of the New
Year, and most critically of all, because this is still is my challenge. I have a
financial mess, which means I cannot afford an acting coach. I am willing to
pay $50 for a zipcar tonight to get to New Year’s Eve parties, which I have
rented and am psyched about, but I am still on the sideline of my own commitment to this truth. I know this is
eroding, this stagnation, this hesitation, this fear. To loosely quote
Nelson Mandela, it is not our darkness of which we are most afraid, but our
light. Hiding in financial crises, dead-end (and deadening) jobs, being late,
being “shy,” these are the snakeskins which I am shedding.
Because I want to be available, I am coaxed by this light,
this promise, and as you’ll read, I have a commitment not only to myself to
fulfill, but one to you as well. So, to a new year, to a challenge I am becoming
brave enough to face, and to the undocumented bounty of facing a truth I’ve
known all along.
A Safe and Happy New Year, Friends. And as Bill Murray says
in Ghostbusters, See you on the other
side, Ray.
Performance, A Challenge (12 31 11)
I want to perform. I want to ignite, excite, catalyze, engender, enmorphize. I want you to witness me. I want you to be changed in the witnessing. I want the love in you to awaken and stir as I open myself to you. I want to be there for it. Present. My best, most available self. I want you to fall in love with yourself in the process. Discover the ancient and cavernous depth of your heart. I want to be your tour guide. To lead you where you are ready to be led. I want to change the world, for good. One heart at a time, beginning with my own. And I am becoming Ready. I am ready to transform.
Pyrotechnic Performance: What I want to do when I grow
up. (8 5 10)
I want to startle your emotions and steamroll you with
feeling. I want to seize and agitate the flames of my inner fuel and fury and
ignite and catch you on fire too. I want to blast you out of your seat aghast
at the wonder that is G-d bellowing through me. I want to own this. I want to
master play and expand this. I want to hone sharpen and broaden the depth of
what I have to offer you. I want to journey with you through the lands of the
psyche and crash you upon the shores of revelation. I want to allow you to lick
and contemplate these wounds as you stagger toward the exit when I’m done. 

I want
to heave you into oblivion and gently reel you back in.
authenticity · gratitude · joy · love

Errands

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So, are you also feeling a bout of “senioritis” at work
lately? Like, duuuude, it’s almost the winter break, I’m here in body only, my
mind is with egg nog and ice skates and Jewish Christmas (movie & Asian
food) land?
Where my body did get
to go yesterday was some pretty wonderful and fanciful places. My temp job is
downtown SF off of Union Square – this is, to use a terribly evocative phrase,
Ground Zero for SF shopping. The (fake) enormous Christmas tree, every
department store you can imagine, and jewelry stores that make me stop and ogle
just the mastery and beauty of what the earth produces.
Yesterday, we needed some fancy ribbon to wrap the fancy
presents for the fancy clients of the fancy place where I’m working. So, I was
asked to go down to Britex fabric store. I’d been there once last week, and
felt like a kid walking into FAO Schwartz. Colors and patterns and buttons, oh my! And yesterday was no different. I felt like saying “Thank you,
Mood!” on my way out. I found a gorgeous double sided satin crimson ribbon and
walked slowly out of the store, stopping by the display of beaded and lace
appliqués for wedding dresses, and some that would make any drag queen’s
costume sparkle with glamour 😉
After returning the ribbon to my boss, she applied it to a
wreath and asked me to take it across the street to the hair salon that the
“big” boss goes to. I’d looked up this salon last week, just out of curiosity
as I was logging in contacts into Outlook, and the website says they do free
haircuts for volunteer models. So, I put my name in. But yesterday, when I was
there, I mentioned that I’d seen the invitation on the website, and the woman
asked me to write my name and contact info down – so, looks like I may get a
fancy haircut sometime soon too!
Now, lest you think that I’m in the lap of luxury, the times
when I was at work, I’m in their library cataloguing all of their books… They
have one that looks like it’s out of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast! So, it wasn’t all joy, and in the skirt I was
wearing, I wasn’t really feeling getting down on the floor to the bottom
shelves.
Now, lest you think I’m ungrateful, I really hope I’m not. I
gave my boss a bottle of wine (which was given to me by the people I babysit
for) as a thank you for throwing this work my way. And as I’ve said before, I
know that not all temp jobs are like this one – and I’m truly grateful for it,
and for the people who work there.
So, that interruption aside, will you let me gush a little
more? Indulge me, the poor student who got thrown a bone by the Universe? 🙂
In the afternoon, I was asked to go pick up the gifts from
Neiman Marcus and Macy’s. These are fancy presents for the big boss to give
out. And while I’m waiting for the makeup counter lady to get all the things on
my list, I get (easily) coerced into letting a makeup person slather me with
foundation and some blush.
Sure, my skin looked flawless, but it also looked so fake.
I’m a makeup wearer. Dyed in the wool MAC fan (my mom took me to the original
MAC store on Christopher Street in NYC for my 14th birthday for a
makeover – I was later told at school that I’d be remembered as the girl who
wore too much purple eyeshadow) ;P But, needless to say, I’ve worn a lot of
makeup of different kinds, and though I looked like a china doll, it covers up
all that is there. The freckles that appeared on the top inch of my forehead
after I got badly sunburned while
snorkeling the coral reef in Cairns, Australia in 2006. It blistered and was
all bad – when one half of your face is in the water, there’s still one half
exposed to sun – be warned. They’re age-spots, or sun spots, and they sometimes
make me worry what they’ll look like when I’m older – how much “worse” they’ll
get. There is the increasing crepe-yness of my eye lids, and she doused on a
ton of concealer under my eyes.
And, I felt fake. It was fine – it wasn’t a day ruiner by
any means(!), but it helped me to reflect that I don’t want to be like this 60
year old woman with caked on foundation to look like she’s 20. Because even me,
30, I don’t look like I’m 20 – and really, I’m cool with it. My eyes are crepe
because I’m alive and healthy and going through the world, not sequestered from
it behind a masque of anti aging. My forehead is dotted with freckles (that no
one else can see by the way!) because I was on an adventure in f’ing Australia.
I’m all for makeup, enhancing my looks, playing around – my
face was my first canvas in many ways. But, I still want to be Molly, with my
entire history.
I walked out of Macy’s with a few free gifts they threw in
for me too, and back at work, wiped off some of the foundation, and saw again
my face, not “what I want you to see.” What I actually want you to see is that
I am many things – young, yes; lived-in, yes; happy – well, how about that? –
yes.
I got to be surrounded by beauty on my errands yesterday,
fabric and fashion galore – but the very best moment all day, was when, in
Macy’s, a gay manboy at the Benefit counter said to me, “This (insert hand gesture up and down) is really working
for you. You look great.” As I warm up to myself, it shows, in how I hold
myself, present myself, and choose to acoutrement myself. This really is working for me.