Category: courage

courage · dating · fortitude · Jewish · relationships · self-care

Saturn Returns.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Every twenty-eight years, the planet Saturn returns in its
orbit around the sun to place it had been when we were born. Every 28 to
approximately 30 years, there is a window of time which some people call
“Saturn Returns.” According to some, this period of time is ripe with change
and opportunity. Usually there are major life changes in this period, either
positive or negative, and according to legend, the lessons that we do not learn
during this first period of Saturn Returns around our 30th birthday,
we have the opportunity to learn again as we approach 60; and if we’re lucky
enough to be healthy for it, again around our mid to late 80s.
In what is proving to be one of the most uncomfortable
changes I’m making in this, my period of Saturn Returns, I cancelled my date
with the Catholic for tonight, and am finally, after many f’ing years of
debate, accepting that a Jewish partner is not only important to me, but
necessary.
What makes this choice hard? Or this admittance? Well, it
feels like I’m closing a very large shiny door behind which are many large
shiny non-Jews. I also have debated whether this is “self-will,” me attempting
to shoe-horn myself into a belief that isn’t true or fair, one that says I’ll only date
Jews. How closed off is that?
But, the truth, the very hard truth of it is, that it’s the
only thing for me to do. I have been down the relationship path with men who
are not Jewish (in fact, no serious relationship I’ve ever had has been with
someone Jewish). What inevitably happens is that I spend a very large amount of
time while in the relationship debating whether it is a “deal-breaker,” until my brain feels like an out
of shape yoga participant. Achy, cranky, tired.
Ironically enough, on my date with this Catholic gentleman
on Monday, we’d been talking briefly about tattoos, and I said how I’d been
delaying my next one, as it’d be a large commitment. That I carry a quote from
a Starbucks coffee cup in my wallet which says something like, To commit to
something, in work, or in play, is to remove our brain as a barrier to our
life.
To commit to this decision, to set down this whirling dervish of questioning … could be
a relief. I have never dated women – do I lament that I’ve “cut off” an entire
portion of the population? No. I’ve finally come to admit that dating someone
taller than me is actually really important to me. And that’s felt like a
sacrifice too. But, it’s funny, I’ve been noticing a lot more cute tall men
over the last two months…
Because what it all comes down to isn’t about religion or
self-will, it’s about abundance. Can I actually let myself believe that if I
really do, in my heart of hearts, want to spend a romantic life with someone
Jewish, can I believe that there is a tall, attractive, employed, happy, funny,
Jewish man out there? Seems like a tall order! (uh, no pun intended.) But, is
it? I mean, when I think about the kinds of miracles that I’ve witnessed in my
life and in the lives of others, am I still willing to debate the power of
what’s possible in this world? When I look at the majority of the community I
know as people who have been pulled back from the gates of insanity and death
to become working members of society with entirely incredible things to
contribute – am I still unwilling to
allow myself to believe?
The painful answer is no. I am not unwilling anymore. I have
been beaten into a state of reasonableness, I have suffered under the pain of
my manic debating society, and I have resigned from that committee. I am
willing to commit to the belief that my needs are important. Haven’t I been
saying that here for a while? Haven’t I run into places in my professional life
where I’ve agreed to things I don’t want, only to have to back out? Haven’t I
made a conscious and kind-to-myself decision to not do that anymore?
Isn’t this the same thing? Isn’t this the same cosmic
lesson? To listen to myself. To allow my needs to be heard. To be responsible
to myself with care, not dismissal. Yes. It is.
And so, here I sit, willing to allow the same consideration to my romantic life that I am newly showing myself in the areas of my professional and creative life, to
allow that faith, that sense of fun, and play, and direction, and the firm
belief that wherever these bits in the cement are coming from, I can trust that
I am being led to a life worth living.
It feels so uncomfortable. Which sort of points out to me
that it’s the “right” thing. I’ve resigned before to the “easy” route of accepting whatever’s in front of me, only to end up in pain. This is making a resolute decision to groove a new
path. 
A good girl friend reminded me yesterday that crazy things happen when people are supposed to be
together, so if this particular gentleman or another non-Jew is actually
supposed to be it, he will be. “If it’s meant to be, you can’t fuck it up; if
it’s not meant to be, you can’t fix it.”
But ultimately, she also said that she sees this decision as me letting go of the rock in the middle of the river, and allowing myself to float. 
So, here’s to learning the lessons this orbit around. Bring
on the miracles.
action · courage · dating · performance · singing

Once More, With Feeling*

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

The sun is officially moving in a higher arc around the
building which shadows it, making for more hours of sunlit sofa warming and
fewer minutes of chilly “come out come out wherever you are.”
I actually hurt my back crawling into bed yesterday –er, this
morning. it’s true. something went crunch. or perhaps crack. i think it was the
final sprint in high heels up the bernal heights’ hill a few minutes before
midnight. the *clink clonk* one hears as a woman approaches in heels is also
the sound of her spinal vertebrae collapsing ;P
That said, it was a pretty wonderful evening. friends,
laughter, small talk, awkwardness, zipcar, east bay, sf, fireworks, dancing,
redbull, hilarious mystery science theater 3000 fireworks commentary, old friends, new
friends, a candle-lit lantern floating generously up the hill with new year’s
wishes alight upon it.
I do look forward to getting back to putting this blog up
earlier in the morning. It’s been delayed this week because of sickness … and
today because of new years’ revelry recuperation.
Those of you who click here through my facebook may already
have seen, but I had an early morning dream last night/this morning, which,
though odd, I also count as a portend of things to come. Well, some things.
I dreamt that actor paul giamatti with laryngitis
offered me to play a gig on Thursday, January 17th at the Loriah
Room on Geary and/or Market and 8th. We can pull some of this apart on a
number of counts: a) I watched a dvd with Paul Giamatti in it on Friday; b) my
school friend’s girlfriend’s name is Mariah; c) i’ve been contemplating “gigs”
lately.
To address b, Mariah’s name is likely on my mind because I’m
going on a date tomorrow. My friend’s girlfriend (Mariah)’s college friend’s
husband’s best friend… asked me out. Yes, we call that degrees of separation
for sure. Basically, it’s two couples in between the two of us. Apparently, he
came up to visit over Thanksgiving, and my school friend thought we might be
good together, so I told her sure, give him my info. Last week, he emailed me,
and we’re meeting up for coffee and possibly lunch tomorrow. So, yes, her name
has been on my mind in reference to this set-up. And yes, I’m excited, and no I
also have no clue what this guy looks like either! Lol.
Unlike the disastrous blind date of a month or two ago,
however, this one comes with good references! 😉 So, we’ll see. Coffee, not china
patterns. And I enjoy the practice.
As to “c”, I was taking a class last year in which for the
end of the year project, we each had the opportunity to do a little “open mic”
action if we wanted. Some spoke poetry, or read from their personal manifestos.
I sang.
I sang with accompaniment from a classmate, Ivan, who I
found out that day is a really wonderful guitarist. I was going to play the
chords myself as I sang, but I’m not that great a guitarist, and asked him if
he’d play. He picked up the tabs right then, and within a half hour, we were
ready to go “on stage.” It was in the Dean of Student’s house on campus, and
there were about 50 or so people in attendance, mostly school mates, people’s
families. And I sang. He played. We ruled. 😛
Well, maybe we didn’t *rule* but actually, we were pretty
good. And Ivan has been popping up in my mindbrain over the last week or so as
someone to contact to maybe begin doing little open mics with around town.
See, I’ve had this belief that I can’t really do music because I can’t play any instruments well. I can
sort of plunk out some very basic guitar chords, and I often do, alone in my
apartment. I can also plunk out some semi-nonsense on my bass guitar, which I
sometimes do, alone in my apartment. And, finally, I can sort of plunk out some
chords on a piano, which I sometimes do alone in my apartment on a USB plug-in
keyboard, on any piano I may pass in my travels, or alone at the piano in the chapel at
school. There’s a sign on that piano which says for any music student looking to practice, go to the Music Department; for anyone looking for spiritual enrichment and outlet, play on, sister. I’ve been known to sit there for several half hours on end to unload
whatever is happening in my brain. And, sometimes then, I sing too. 
Piano was always my brother’s forte. He was the musician, I
was perhaps the singer, perhaps the silent writer. He’s actually quite good,
self-taught, and I admire his skill. He’s been playing our grandfather’s piano
ever since it came to our house when my brother was 8 and I was 11. The most
I’d tend to play then was one or the other part of Heart & Soul. And he and
I still play it for old time’s sake. But, sitting alone in the circular stone
chapel at school, I find the songs that want to be played. And I am moved, relieved, happy.
Alone in my car, when I had one, I’d invent all kinds of
songs and lyrics. Which would flit out of my head as soon as my seatbelt
unfastened. The thing for me about music, about singing, and apparently about
piano, is that I get to find out what mood I’m in. That may sound strange, but
it sort of puts me in touch with a non-verbal mood ring or divining rod. The
tone will be major or minor; slow and dirge-like; upbeat and syncopated. How am
I feeling today? I’ll open my throat and find out. I’ll place my fingertips
against the cool ivory and show you.
So, here we are, back to performance. As, if you may have
gathered, all of the above dabblings into music happen alone. This morning, then, after my very unusual dream, I
was nudged again. And I emailed Ivan to ask if he’d be interested in
collaborating on some very low-key, no pressure, key word fun openmics.
This way, I don’t have to be Jimi Hendrix to get out there. I don’t have to be
Van Halen, or Slash, or Stevie Ray Vaughn. I can be Molly, tentative soul and
creative, with a voice and a melody that will tell me where I want to be led. 


*shout out to KatieB with reference to the Buffy The Vampire Slayer’s musical episode. if you haven’t seen it, it’s worth it. 😉
action · adventure · compassion · courage · creativity · finances · forgiveness · gratitude · growth · joy · recovery · relationships · responsibility · romance · self-care · spirituality

Wet Concrete.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Today is the last day of work before the winter break. And
although mine is polka-dotted with gorgeous adventures with wonderful women,
what i’m really looking forward to is sleep! And cleaning my apartment.
There’s some kind of shift happening, or a solidification
rather. I feel the cement getting stronger beneath my feet. As though I have
poured the foundation, and it’s looked messy and strange – like getting a
degree in poetry, putting together an art show, cleaning out my childhood home
for sale, getting out of a relationship, beginning to audition for theater. I
haven’t known what any of these pieces have meant as they’ve come up and I
examine them and lay them down, like Indy choosing the right chalice at the end
of Last Crusade, hmm, consider, lay aside.
I’ve just been picking up these pieces with curiosity.
And now they’re all poured into the mold of my life’s
foundation, and I can’t explain to you why, but there is a joy that is arising
that feels so uniquely new and pervasive, that I know these are associated.
With a stronger foundation to stand on, I’m freer to explore, create, test
theories, fail, try. I’m no longer standing on quick-sand, undermining myself
as soon as a notion crosses my mind or path.
I also know that there are likely a thousand more things
that will go in this foundation, that it won’t ever be “complete,” but isn’t
that the point of life? (She says with any idea like she knows what “the point”
of life is!!)
But, I tell you, something is happening. Which is a good
thing, because I can spin out into “I have no idea what’s happening/going to
happen”-land really quickly.
For now, today is my last day of 2011 working at a job I
enjoy. I’ve been asked to come back on January 3rd when the office
reopens, and it has been suggested to pay off my credit cards with this money
I’ll earn, instead of ear-mark it for a car, … but we’ll see 😉 My credit cards
don’t have high balances (no one ever trusted me enough to give me too much
credit! – including myself), but the interest rates are exorbitant, and one of my tasks is to call to ask for a lower
rate. I’ve done this before, and they’ve said no. I’ve done this recently, and
they’ve said no.
But the woman who suggested it said that this is one of
those holes that needs to be closed up. Why pour water into a sieve? In order
for me to hold abundance in my life, there are places where I need to be ready
to receive it. So, this is one of those action places, a place where the
foundation can become firmer. The woman also suggested a script for calling
them, some key phrases and an attitude, that scare the crap out of me. Because
they mean taking true accountability and responsibility for myself and my
finances by letting someone else know that this is not okay. Paying almost 20%
on a credit card, and not touching the principal is (apparently!) not okay. And
I need to close these holes. I also will let go of the results, because they
may still say no, but the action of taking action to care for myself and
respect my own boundaries is the lesson, and the trial.
I get reflective around the turn of the year, and around my
birthday. For all the floundering I sometimes believe I’m doing in my life, the
truth is that progress is being made. It has not been the easiest year, and the
hardships have variously set me to a variety of tasks and new things:
  • the
    breakup caused me to lean on my girlfriends, and have the experience of getting
    through that “slammed by a mack truck”ness of early breakup;
  • the breakup led to
    rebounding, which produced my best painting yet (in my opinion) – lol;
  • the
    japan disaster prompted my friend to host an art show with donation to japan at
    which she asked me to read my poetry, for my first time in public outside of
    the school community;
  • my bitterly harrowing lack of income over the summer
    caused me to get in with a community of people who work on financial security
    and abundance issues;
  • later, working too
    much caused me to come up against boundaries of self-care and are helping me to
    say yes     and no with integrity;
  • packing up my childhood home for sale caused me to root out the sadness and
    grief that lived there, and here in my heart, and to begin to perspectivize 😉
    it with more serenity;
  • having that wonky conversation with my mom over the
    summer caused me to take space to reassess how I am able to engage with her in
    ways that feel mutual, responsible, respectful, and loving to us both;
  • being
    single caused me to pick up     Calling in the One to help foster love and care within myself and help
    to radiate outward;
  • my grandmother, my dad’s mom, is dying, and this is causing
    me to see my dad with more compassion than I have, perhaps, ever, and to listen
    to him as a person, not as “Dad” with all its attendant baggage and
    expectations.
So, there’s just some reflections which come immediately to
mind. There are more. But as the saying goes something like, “out of every season of grief, when life seemed heavy or unjust, new lessons for life are learned and new resources of growth and courage are discovered.” And for me, these seasons of grief were simply filtering out the junk in the pouring concrete. 
acting · action · courage · direction · faith · intuition · letting go · maturity · performance · poetry

Just Row, Darling, Just Row.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So, I’m feeling both immensely relieved, and a bit of an
emotional hangover from all of the worry and intense “gotta get it done”ness of
the school semester. I finally finished
my paper for my Shakespeare class, and emailed it to the teacher last night at 9pm.
Granted, it was only six pages,
but this whole working plus school thing really walloped what I was able to
give to school, and squished everything else into weekends that wasn’t school
and school sort of got shunted along every day, moving down my calendar like a
shuffle board disc – I can do it tomorrow, I can do it tomorrow. Like Scarlet
O’Hara – After all tomorrow is another day.
Which may be true, but tomorrow has been another day of
intense activity, and not in any way better than the day before it.
So, the paper is done. My third out of 4 semesters of my MFA
degree is done. And again, relief but… a big dose of “uhhhhhh….???” aka now
what. I’m familiar enough with situations like these to not have to worry too
much about the “now what”, but rather to just show up for what’s next, even if
that’s do the dishes (which, duh, I do have to do), and also, as I’ve been
doing more of lately, follow my little internal nudges, cuz they seem to have a
better idea than I do about wtf is going to happen or is meant to happen, or
which way I should row.
It’s funny. I had mini-epiphany a while back which went
something like the following: I only need to row. I don’t need to know which
way the boat is headed, I’m not steering, I’m not making the waves do their
thing – I only need to row, and I’ll get there.
But that didn’t quite
sit right with me. Sure, I agree, do the next indicated action – which for me
at the moment is to wash up and get ready for work (I’ve decided – for now – to
do my blogs in the morning – I procrastinate them at night, and then end up
past my bedtime – plus one thing I really did learn from all this paper-writing
pushing was that I really do write better in the morning. I’m a morning person
– sort of. I’ve already had one cup of coffee! – I’m more of a “mid-morning”
person – catch me at 10:30 or 11, and I’ll be ON IT… perhaps that’s also cuz
the other two cups of coffee will finally have kicked in…).
In any case, rowing is great – I can row, and sit backwards
and still question where the hell are we going. But I also do believe that it
is sort of my responsibility to have some vague idea of which ocean we’re in –
to extend the metaphor beyond its bounds! Maybe that’s still just me wanting to
have some control, some idea of control if I know where I am, where I’m
heading, and more about what I need to do to get there. Maybe that it doesn’t
sit comfortably is just all part of the action and practice of this thing – to
sit in the discomfort of not knowing, but to do the work anyway.
I don’t know what will happen at auditions. What will happen
after school. What will happen tonight, even! I want to know – especially the
“after school” part. Somehow I’m way more willing to let the audition stuff be
how it will be – I’m way more que cera cera about it. Because I really know that I can’t control the outcome, I can only
control how I show up and prepare for it – how I do or do not do research, take
action, practice, and look for an acting coach, like my acting friend suggested
to me. Somehow, letting go of the results of this is easy. Partly because, to
me, it also feels fun. It feels like an adventure. Like trying a new ice cream
every time. Like, I wonder what this flavor tastes like. So, of course it’s
easy to show up more lightly to those. (But I will say, I’m sure I wouldn’t
have always felt that way – which is why it’s taken me so long to even get here
to stage zeropointone or wherever I am.)
But, “after school,” the looming deadline of “you ought to
know.” More lies. I don’t know. I know that school has been the best thing I’ve
done for myself in a while. Not cuz I get to study and write poetry – that’s
cool, but it’s not where my passion is – but cuz I get to have this time to
discover all this new stuff about myself. I said when I arrived that I wanted
the two years of school to offer me time to “solidify my foundation within
myself.” And I think I’ve been doing that. Concretizing who I am, how I want to
be in this world – to have the time to become someone who can show up to
auditions with a sense of fun.
I am uncomfortable not knowing. I am uncomfortable feeling
like I’m not taking the “right” actions (not writing a sample syllabus, not looking at
teaching jobs, not knowing where I will live or want to live). But, I also don’t
want to teach. … So, that’s leaves me with a WIDE field, and too many options
feels a little like none at all in my fear-brain.
So, before I talk myself out of the awesomeness that is my
ability to show up and let go of the results, out of the awesomeness that is I
FINISHED my semester, I’ll go get my second cup of coffee from my microwave and
pray that all this rowing is better for me than I can possibly see. 
acting · action · courage · creativity · fear · laughter · letting go · performance · self-care

Must Be Present to Win

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

There’s a parable that goes something like this: A man in
Italy goes every day to a statue of Jesus, and prays every day, “Jesus, please
let me win the lottery, please let me win the lottery.” This man, every day
goes to the statue with the same prayer. “Please let me win the lottery.” One
day, the statue comes to life and says back, “Then buy a ticket.”
So, today I bought a ticket. Metaphorically. I threw my hat
in the ring. … Also metaphorically, I really like my hat.
If my audition back in April or so was a belly flop with my
eyes open (OUCH), then this was a belly flop with my eyes closed. So, it means,
I’ve learned 😉
On my way out, I texted several friends to say I sort of
blew it – my 2nd monologue went better than my 1st, the
first being too much of a Shakespearean tongue twister I just couldn’t get
memorized. But, that I did it.
A friend then called me and told me her story of her first
audition and not even knowing what they meant when they asked what she’d
“prepared.” And so, we learn. I learn. Sure there’s a twinge of disappointment,
but more than that twinge I feel like I now know several things: first off, I know how long it takes me to memorize something – and it’s more than 12 hours!!
Yep, I really only started to memorize today, although I chose the
monologues…yesterday? Friday? So, yeah, good to know. and then also good
information to not beat myself up. I gave it a really good go. But it was also,
as I’ve said, a week of insanity with school and work, and so, good enough is
good enough here.
I give myself an “A” for effort. And next time, perhaps I
can prepare longer in advance.
The other things I’ve learned are, a) I can show up (Hurrah!
good for me!) 🙂 b) where to get headshots done; c) I have allies.
More than any of my other times of leaping off a cliff, this
time I asked for more help, followed through on those suggestions, and
reached back out to people – this is a
newish thing for me – as I sometimes feel that if I’ve asked you for help once,
that’s it, my lifetime supply of asking that one person that one favor or for
one bout of help is used up. No more, well dry, try someone else.
That’s.Not.True. Sure, some people aren’t the giving type,
but for the most part, the people in my life are invariably giving, kind,
supportive, and generous. So, I asked for help a second time, and my acting
friend showed up for me. And you know what? She’ll probably even take my call
next time too 😉
So, that’s the end of this one round (at least I believe so – callbacks are
tomorrow, so I’ll know soon enough whether I am or not). But it’s one round,
not the match, or game, or series.
I’m also more willing this time to “fail,” which I’ve heard
is the key to any success. Being willing to stumble is the only way to learn to
walk, right? Persistence. Patience.
And maybe my next belly flop will be a cannonball instead.
(Whether that’s a “better” thing or not, I have no idea) 😉 (thank you friends, for your support)!!

adventure · courage · laughter · modeling · performance

Somebody feed the models.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

welp, if i still took drugs, tonight would have been a nice
night to do it. as it was, i was perfectly present for the shrieks of the event
coordinator, the reverberations of increasingly drunken model cackling in a
room the size of a postage stamp, and the soreness of my toes.
That said 😉 It was pretty cool. It was just a long night –
from 5 – 11, and I left just as things were really getting “swinging” – there
was a band who was just getting their gear set up on the runway we all walked –
I more like ran, than walked. I was first, and I felt like I didn’t have
anyone’s cues to follow, and just sort of went, spun a few times and left! I’m
sure I did just fine 😛
I did meet a lovely man as I was passing out chocolate
balls. (yes, but, no, they were not schweaty.) But as I was leaving I didn’t see
him, so what will be will be. It was nice to flirt in a very light-hearted not
too serious way. Just talk-ish as we watched the other models in the non-profit
clothing.
I also wrote out my monologues for tomorrow, as I’m one of
those kinesthetic learners, and need to write something down in order to really
remember it – tell anyone who has seen me with a sonnet of scribbles on the
back of my right hand (I’m lefty – and I won’t lose my hand – perfect
note-taking).
It was intense with a lot of chaos happening, but it was a
gorgeous old Victorian house in San Francisco right on Alamo square park – near
the Painted Ladies aka the Full House houses.
There’s not much else to report today. I’ll get to see if
any of the photos will be useful for my portfolio, but really, I’m more
intrigued by acting these days than modeling. I did see one girl I’d done
modeling with earlier in the year for the same non-profit – this sort of very
Kate Moss accented blonde model…who is studying to be a teacher at this really
prestigious union of schools. So, she said she’ll let me know next time she
does stuff, and sometimes she even gets paid 😉
It was my first “runway” show – I’d done a little bit of
photo modeling before, but mainly for friends, and nothing “serious”, really. I
do have a profile on a professional website for photographers and models, but,
hell if they’re not really creepy.
I once met up with a photographer over coffee to talk about
his vision, as he’d emailed me, and I was new to the site and thought, well,
I’m not going to say yes without meeting him, but sure I’ll meet him – IN
PUBLIC. He did a lot of nudity, and I wanted to talk about that, as I wasn’t
sure I was comfortable with that (with google these days!! I may be a teacher
myself one day, or a mom!). So we met in a café, and he was telling me about
his “vision”… and in walks a woman who really seemed surprised to see him there
– and he introduces me to his wife. The woman glares at me, then at him with a politely plastered smile
on her face. Then when she leaves with her coffee, he tells me that she’s a
therapist over at the hospital that’s nearby.
Hm, a guy with a thing for having women place realistic
skulls over their vag while otherwise totally naked, and a woman who dives into
often sick people’s brains. Yep, a perfectly fucked up match.
In the end, I declined the offer to shoot with him, despite
his protestations that his images were “relatively tame.”
So, I sometimes troll my profile on that website, but for
the most part, keeping my clothes on when recording for posterity seems like a
good idea. Well, that is until the artist’s live model audition in January!
(but, it’s paid, accredited, and highly professional – really!) 😉
adulthood · courage · direction · maturity · recovery · sex

Undoing Betty Crocker

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Almost finished with week one of the end of school insanity
shuffle. Tomorrow i do my friend’s fashion show. Sunday I have my audition in
SF. and today I did my teaching demo for my Creativity and Spirituality
workshop.
It went really well – my professor almost cried as another
girl was sharing – and this all about a 20 minute collage. I felt really
grateful to be able to share that work with these women. It was good – I did a collage too –
and this one also had someone at a microphone. (In the spring when I
co-facilitated this workshop, I pasted a rockband mick jagger
cartoon yell/singing into a microphone).
But, to get heavy for a minute, that’s not really what’s on
my mind at all. If you’re not in the mood for heavy, read yesterday’s or check back tomorrow – I’m
sure I’ll regale you with something fun about the fashion soiree.
But, for now. This Calling in the One thing. An exercise of a few days ago was about
making peace with our bodies, the next was about peace with our sexuality.
I’ve used the terms before “Betty Crocker” and “Vixen” – I
vacillate between one and the other. Most of my Vixen happened when I was drinking.
It was like the side of fries. The cigarette with a drink. It was just known
that if I drank, I was going to sleep with someone – or at least make out – and
likely in public, to everyone else’s discomfort.
It was a continuation of “just fucking make me feel better.”
The more anonymous, the better, because then I never had to face the shame I
actually felt, or the reason I was running with scissors in the first place.
When I stopped drinking, it was like – well, not to be
crude, but if you put a plug in the jug, I sort of put a plug in me otherwise.
I had a friend around that time who used to be a male prostitute and he told me
that he didn’t have sex for a year after he got sober because it was just
associated with all kinds of other things. So, I became Betty Crocker again.
Here’s the heavy – add in to this damage and abuse I’m
already doing to myself the fact that like one out of six American women I’ve been raped and sexually assaulted, you can imagine the chiasma of all this creates a rather dark
misshapen understanding of what sexuality is, or what sexuality can be.
In CITO, she does say
that for people who have particular trauma to seek help around this as we move
forward, and I’ve been back with my SF therapist for about two months now,
since I started keeping track of my money and knew I needed it, and could now
afford it.
So, yesterday, I’m in her office, and loathe as I may be to
bring this up, I start talking about my feelings of ambivalence around sex – how I dissociate, or how my sexuality, locked in a box, comes striking
out in a ravenous bolt of acting out, and then quickly retreats before I can …
stop it? question why it…I…need to treat my sexuality like a, well, sin, i
suppose. Something you indulge in secretly, silently, shamefully.
We’d been talking about other things, my audition, my new
headshots, and then as soon as we begin on this, my body tenses, I stop
breathing (or breathe so shallowly, it’s like I’m not), and she says, well,
Molly, you have sexual trauma.  —
My brain goes SO WHAT. So do most people walking around. So What?? They don’t all suddenly go all fight or flight.
Therefore, today, when thinking about singing this song I
haven’t rehearsed for class – to prepare to perform in one of the most
vulnerable ways there is – to sing – there’s no hiding in that. It’s just your voice, your breath, what you are able
to pull out from your soul, and sorry lady, my soul is just a little too
rattled for that today.
I asked her if I could sing next week – and lovely woman,
she said yes. (She asked if I were well, and I said, “Physically” – she
understood immediately.) I’ve been a mess all day, the dragon at the head of the cave having been poked wide awake and sensing impending approach. So, yes, I rented a zipcar to
get to class (and to get, finally, to the grocery store and get much
yummy food) – but I needed the cocoon. I needed to not feel more jostled by the
world today. 
So, why tell you? Why “reveal” all this? All this hard, and
yucky, and “nobody wants to hear about this stuff” – Because that voice is the
voice of my pain and fear, and it has kept me a wounded antelope for years. Repression,
denial, they’re our natural responses, but this has outlived its usefulness. So
I’m seeking help; I’m giving voice.
I don’t want to be Betty Crocker, nun of the knitted socks
and rom-coms. I don’t want to be the Vixen, fly-by-night assassin of self-esteem.
I want to be Molly – human – with scar-tissue – but
preeminently, whole. And available for the wonderful thing sex can be.
abundance · courage · gratitude · joy · laughter · letting go · life · love · self-care

The girl just wants ta dance.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I just came back from a Keb’ Mo’ concert. if you don’t know
him or his music, I highly encourage you to youtube him. It’s delta bluesy funny + sad + honest. I don’t know how I found out about him, but I’ve been listening
to him for at least 6 years now, and he’s in my top at least 5 musicians.
The show was incredible.
He was funny and humble, and so freaking talented (a steel
guitar could melt my soul). and his voice. what emotion that man has. I actually welled up a few times in
the beginning when it was just him and his guitar – just out of pure joy and
appreciation that a man, and music, like this exist in the world.
It was wonderful. I smiled til my cheeks hurt, I stood up
with the two ladies next to me when no one was dancing yet, and just clapped
and hooted and shimmied till… well, not till anything. I just did. I just was.
I was happy.
The only downside to
any of it is that I yelled and howled so much that I think I strained my throat
and I have a vocal performance for my singing class tomorrow! But – It was so
worth it – it was worth being out on a “school night”. Worth taking BART home from the city. It was worth it
to be able to sit at the bus stop with an older African American lady who’d
been in my row at the show and gush about how just tickled pink we were.
I won’t go on about his music, but well, everyone left
feeling joyful – that was the palpable emotion. The induced and provoked and
invoked emotion. And not all music shows are like that. I do also love the harder more
rock-y stuff to dance myself out to, but that produces a way different emotion – more RWAHH!! LIFE IS LOUD AND RIGHT NOW!!! Lol, but then again, you can’t really dance to punk rock either – it’s more like snap your head in time with the fastest beat,
throw in some shoulder, and occasionally shimmy some hips. I dance at the
shows. I’m that girl now.
I used to not be – or only when I was drunk and became …
well, let’s just say lecherous and often involving Elaine-like flailing (and
falling). So when I wasn’t drinking when I went out anymore, at first I felt I
had to be “super cool” by not acting like I was into the music – which likely I
wasn’t cuz I was probably too busy thinking about what everyone was thinking
about me. Yeah, I have that kind of self-centeredness. But, it’s gotten WAY
better. And I love to dance. Perhaps I’m not a particularly good dancer (I hold
with the view that the best dancer is the person having the most fun) but I do
have rhythm of sorts and I just love to let my body just get into the stream of
the music, to just let it do what it wants to do in response to what I’m
hearing, what I’m feeling from the bass and the crowd.
So, yeah, me and two middle aged white ladies stood up and
danced. Eventually more people did too – the domino effect, because likely I’m
not the only one who thinks about what other people will think of me. But this
is certainly a period of “but do it anyway” for me.
On the way out, a guy asked me out – and I said Not right
now but thanks. On the way to BART a guy told me he liked my outfit and that he
had “nothing to follow that.” It was sweet.
It appears to be true – the happier I am, the more
approachable I am. Not that that’s the end goal – it’s just interesting to
notice.
The last thing is, Keb Mo’s last song of the encore went,
“She’s not lookin’ for a lover/She’s not lookin for Romance/The girl just wants
ta dance.” Amen.
abundance · action · courage · direction · faith · fear · finances · Jewish · joy · letting go · life · responsibility · synchronicity

Effective but Wordless Chant

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So I did look at one SF apartment ad today. It was through
my old employer, a property management company, which is how I got my sweet
deals on my SF and Oakland apartments. Granted, it wasn’t a handout-out, I
worked well there – maybe not that hard, but it wasn’t that challenging or enticing, and
eventually I found myself overcome by the Ugly Cries (maya’s accurate term) in my car at lunch one Friday on the phone
with a friend having another job existential crisis.
That day I gave my two weeks notice, that night I threw my 1st pre-Valentine’s party, the following day, I went blonde. This was almost 3 years
ago now. My boss wasn’t pleased, but he knew I wasn’t happy –
that I wanted to do something creative, anything.
So that began several months – two, to be exact – of
job hunting. I remember I didn’t even tell my parents I’d quit my job and was
looking for work cuz I just couldn’t face their “Are you kidding me, in this economy??” spiel. It was hard then – I had notes all
over my SF apartment – “This is a world of grace and abundance and I am letting
go.”
A friend afterward told me to change to wording to “–and I
allow myself to receive” – more “open.”
Two years before that, I’d been “downsized” from a corporate
real estate firm, my first long term gig in SF, and was on unemployment for the
full 6 months. The first month? Awesome – yay paid vacation. By the end of six months? I was desperate. I began to
answer every ad. The very week my unemployment was going to run out, I had two job interviews one day, and I’m driving to one of
them, out somewhere near Bayview, and I’m in my car and I have this
mini-epiphany: I had every single thing I needed at that moment. I had eaten
breakfast, I had coffee in me, I had gas in my car – I didn’t need anything
else at that moment – no money in my hand, nothing. For that moment, I was
completely taken care of.
I forget what it was now, but I even began this little chant
while I was on my way to that interview. Something about being content and
caffeinated, or something? That afternoon, I had my other interview – at the
property management firm. And I got that job. The woman I was replacing
happened to be out sick that day (she was going on maternity leave), and so I
interviewed with the owner of the company – and we got along fabulously. (A big part of me feels that had I met the woman instead, I wouldn’t have made it through the door.) The
mug that I’m drinking out of now, he gave to me because he got tired of me
using the one that had a photo of his kids printed on it for my coffee (it was
the biggest mug!, What?). The one he bought has sort of colorful swirls on it,
and he said it reminded him of the tattoo on my wrist.
So, yeah, he wasn’t pleased when I left my job with them,
but, obviously still liked me enough to let me have parties in my SF apartment,
and to move here into the Oakland one on a slight deal.  – actually, it’s a really good deal, i
should be (and am!) really grateful – the rent isn’t that much cheaper, but I didn’t
have to pay security deposit, or pet deposit, so that’s quite generous.
Reminds me the theme of today’s CITO is generosity …
But, back to grace and abundance, and letting go – or
“receiving” rather.
I quit that job with the property management, and spent two
months looking for creative work, again. And finally what happened was I woke
up one morning and asked myself, still groggy from sleep and receptive to the universe, What else
am I interested in?
The reply came, Well, I like being Jewish.  … So I typed “Jewish San Francisco” into
Google, and applied to every position there was.
I got one of those positions. (Actually I applied to one I didn’t get, but my resume got passed along to someone else in this Jewish
education non-profit, and I got that job
– for which I was surely more well suited.) … 

Then, on a not so whimish been-looking-at-the-college’s-website-for-three-years whim, I apply to the MFA program, and get in. (Note, there: I actually intended to apply to the Master’s in Literature Program, but didn’t have a current academic paper, and am pretty sure none of my professors from college remember me … but the admissions coordinator for the English Department told me that the MFA program, I just needed 15-20 recent poems. How many did I happen to have recently? 16.) Nudgey McNudgerson, you sly Universe, you.
I dunno. I guess I’m feeling reflective about all of this –
about all of my “being taken care of” and steered into a more … “Molly” direction — because I have no clue what’s going to
happen when school is over in May. I quite imagine that it will work out well –
and I also imagine I’ll freak out a bit anyway.
But, if any of the above isn’t evidence that I’m being
gently but firmly guided, I don’t know what is.
So, Universe, Let me be receptive to the strange and unusual
nudges you have to give me. I sit here, in a heated apartment, with food in my
belly, electricity running, December rent paid, and I’m chanting the tune to
that chant whose words I no longer remember. Amen.

acting · action · courage · faith · gratitude · joy · performance · persistence · poetry · recovery · school · spirituality · synchronicity · time

Alright Sports Fans

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

You know those montage-y frenetic moments in movies or,
well, Looney Tunes, where they play “Flight of the Bumble Bee” and everything
starts moving insanely quickly?
Well, it’s sorta like that. I feel like saying, Drivers!
Start Your Engines!
This morning, Monday of the beginning two weeks of
school/work insanity, I emailed my boss at my temp gig and asked her if I could
have Wednesday off. I also asked her to get a little more clear with me on when
this assignment ends, as it’s really vague, and I don’t like my income hanging
on “really vague.” So she said, Yes to Wednesday off, and that she’d love to
keep me into January, so let her get back to me on Thursday. So, Okay.
PHEW on Wednesday off – my crazy long day with evening
class, and now I can meet with my professor to talk about my final project –
due next Thursday. I emailed him this morning too and suggested what I think I
might do for my project – it might be a script involving the two heckler muppet
dudes. Yep. He wanted creative! I’m thinking of having them, as images of the
upper class, watch several scenes from the Shakespeare plays we’ve read this
semester – scenes where Shakespeare seems to be calling out the upper class.
He’s got a lot of commentary on
classism, and I found myself drawn to those pieces in all the works. So, we’ll
see. That does not seem like an “easy” thing to do. But, it could be fun – they
get all ruffled and heckle-y, and then maybe that bald eagle guy comes in at
the end (You can tell I’ve been influenced by the Muppet Movie advertisement at
bus stops…)
After I emailed him, I packed up my shit and went to school.
I knew that hanging out here would only mean distraction – facebook, cat, tea,
nibbling, general procrastinating. Luckily, both the girls I was supposed to
meet with this morning cancelled – which was totally HP doing for me what I
couldn’t do for myself, as I really didn’t have the time to meet with them, and
would likely have been distracted.
So, I went to school, and plunked down in the English
Department with my tea, my laptop, and my homework. I got pretty far. (Poem for
evening class, two singing critiques for Friday, printed thesis draft.) There’s
still a lot to do, but I am feeling better about it.
I have to do a teaching demo on Friday of the workshop I’m
piloting in the Spring – “Creativity and Spirituality”. I co-facilitated this
workshop last semester with the Director of Spiritual and Religious Life at
school, and it went pretty well. So on Friday, I have to demo a portion of the workshop
to my professor and my classmates. I’m not too worried about it – but I do need
to get my own script down a little more. Leading people through spiritual
processes – well, you have to have a degree of confidence in yourself and the
work, to come from a calm position, or else people who may already be nervous
about WTF is going to happen – am I going to speak in tongues? is there going
to be “G-d” stuff? – feel like they are being led by a knowledgeable guide.
Luckily for me, this is all work that I’ve done. Some of the
pieces for the full workshop next semester (3 times, 3 hours, for 3 different
groups of women) I haven’t done, I’ve created from my own imagination, but I
believe in them. The whole workshop is about helping the participants to see that
they can access creativity in a variety of modes, and to call that pathway by
which they access it “spirituality.” To begin (or continue) to understand that
we always have something to say, to give, to create, to invent, because we have
the un-tap-out-able well of creativity inside us already – we don’t have to
“hunt” for it, “work” for it, we just need to access it.
And sure, it sounds “woo woo” hippie shit, but, I believe
it. I don’t always remember it – and try to create from a place of desperation
or scarcity – but the real juice is always there.
So, that’s my workshop. I also have 4 reading responses and
a final paper to do for this class. … And a final paper and an end of semester
portfolio for my poetry workshop.
BUT, on top, next to, in spite of all this – the Universe
works without me – often.
I get an email this afternoon while writing with frenzied
fingers that a slot opened up in the auditions…and I can get in Sunday at
8:30pm, if I want it.
I want it.
Of course, this week of ALL weeks (cue “Bumble Bee”), I now
have to memorize 2 one minute monologues, get my headshots printed, and read up
on this Strindberg fellow. But … it’s general auditions for a bonafide theater
company in SF for their upcoming season in a bonafide theater – and *I’m*
auditioning. Holy Crow.
The very next email I get? From another theater company (no
lie) I emailed in my diligent action moment of a few weeks ago. They can’t fit
me in this time, but will keep my info on file. Fabulous.
Just when I was beginning to feel like I was watching myself
retract from the whole acting thing again, the Universe throws me a bone. I was
watching myself follow the pattern of “flurry of action, then nothing, flurry
of action, then nothing” – but, this time, with my small little actions, these
self care little moments of listening to myself, this comes along. It is just an audition, I have to keep reminding myself, because I get easily scared the f
out.
To counter the crazy “I have no idea what I’m doing,” I
called in help. I called Lorraine, my acting friend I called a few weeks ago.
We just spoke, and she gave me some good tips on the monologues I’m choosing, a
classic and a contemporary: Gertrude from Hamlet cuz I just read it– and The Flood from Vagina Monologues cuz I know it, as I’m cast in it at school in the
Spring! Plus she gave me head’s up on a place to get my headshots printed in
the city, precisely where I will be on Thursday at noon.
So, yeah, I’m alright. A little dazed. But, I did a lot of
work today (and some action a few weeks ago) and some unexpected bounty
happened. Fancy that.