jenniferblaine

One of my most successful and talented actress friends, Tembi Locke, used to say this amazing phrase every so often when things were challenging for us as actresses living and auditioning in New York City. I often think of it. Sometimes it seems like we are making no progress at all, like nothing is happening. That is precisely when it is good to appreciate the calm, the silence.

You may also want to imagine the phrase “wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could experience….?” Use the quiet patch to plant a wish, hope, a feeling of magic. The best manifestations spring out of the energy of no attachment. So, as an experiment, even if you don’t believe something good is coming back to you, try floating your intention out there and see if something magnificent comes back. Why not give it a try?

I look forward to hearing what you create.

I am feeling really fortunate. My daughter, Lily, is 5 today.

Some people who’ve known me a while say, “Wow! That went fast.”

But I don’t experience her growing up as having been fast. I experience it as instances and moments from our 1,825 days together. There’ve been some tough moments, lots of exhaustion and exhilaration, and many experiences she and I have shared. I remember her first keyboard pounding concert at 5 months of age, her first word, her first step, her first successful time on the potty, the first friend she made on her own. I experience Lily as complete and perfect as she is. I see her as a great party waiting to happen which often does.

Two days ago she was involved in a fight at school. Her teacher told me that Lily stayed engaged with her friends and worked out the disagreement until they all worked out the problem.

“Lily has something so special inside her, that I wish everyone had,” her teacher told me. “She’s a peacemaker and she cares, but she’s honest too.”

How do I begin to measure the magic of my child? Well, I guess we will celebrate her turning 5, which is just an excuse to appreciate the beauty I get to love everyday anyway.

Anyone who has ever acted knows that Acting is Doing. People sometimes think that they need to be in a certain mood in order to act. They don’t. One of the secrets to acting is that it’s all about doing. Actors have to make a choice and then just do it. It has to be a doable choice which is stated in a proactive, positive fashion. For instance, sometimes I watch coaching clients struggle to figure something out. They say “Well, I don’t want more of that experience.” They have said what they don’t want, instead of what they do, and as a result they end up with an unpalatable experience. To illustrate how they are boxing themselves in, I usually ask them to “not sit down.” This baffles them. What should they do? Then I say sit down, and they can do that, because it is doable, positive, and measurable. In acting this makes for a great performance. In life, it makes for a cleaner and clearer opportunity to manifest what we actually want.

What do you want?

What will you do to invite or allow it?

 

I love artists: visual, musical, theatrical, cinematic. One of the things I like most about artists is drinking in their style.

Why does Tina Turner decide to go with shaggy hair? Why does Judd Apatow make movies steeped in adolescent humor? It’s their style! Style is all about making choices that make sense to you and expressing what pleases you. When you add up all those choices they become your style.

To discover your own style:

1. Observe and take note of artists you love. What do you appreciate about them? Is there something they do which you would like to adopt or adapt for yourself?

2. You may not notice your own style, because it is second nature to you. If so, consider what sort of feedback you often receive. My friend Kelly Hu, who starred in such movies as “The Scorpion King,” used to tell me I was so funny. I always told her I was just being me until one day I realized being funny is my style.

3. What feels like a yes to you? A yes is what you feel good about and it’s easy to move toward it. For instance do you want to wear a parka in a blizzard, or like me do you choose a vintage tiger striped coat which literally stops traffic? My coat is a big yes for me. When you follow your inner yeses you will begin to create and collect aspects of your style.

Everything you do is an opportunity to trot out your style. All you need to do is take it.

When I heard about Whitney Houston’s death, I was reminded of the many ways society sends destructive messages to artists and creative people.

One message is “you’re only as good as your last hit.” In many news reports I heard that Whitney was disappointed and down that her last album did not get the critical acclaim to which she was accustomed. Imagine topping the charts with hit after hit for decades, and then after coming out of isolation and self-destruction you don’t top the charts in the way you once did.  She did well, but her performance wasn’t as meteoric as it had been in the past. The meta-message “only as good as your last hit” is reinforced.

Another message is that “unless you knock my socks off, you are not legit.” Her voice had undeniably changed, she could no longer soar in the same way, but now her voice was filled with edges and qualities that reflected despair, heartache, and the desire to overcome it all. She had lost notes but had developed strength and gravitas. The qualities in her voice reflected that she was older and seeking to find herself. Unfortunately, we are living in a culture of competitive contests, instead of curious listening and warm receptions for the stories in all our voices.

Last of all Whitney modeled “smiling on the outside, while crying on the inside.” I wish she had had support to overcome her addiction, to deal with fame and disappointments, because when you reach that far out with your amazing gifts, you also may have what I call “an upper limit,” which tries to limit how much joy and happiness you allow yourself to get back. She gave so much, but somehow did not receive all of the support and love she really needed and deserved. She soldiered on, but probably had much pain and grief that was difficult to acknowledge.

I understand why with Whitney’s death so many people are writing about how addiction destroys. For instance, there is a great article in Forbes, A Cautionary Tale, reflecting on how her passing provides an opportunity and reminder to reach out and support those we care about who are struggling with demons of their own. As a society, I hope we can learn to value the magic of all our artists, with their ups and downs, and learn to curb our critical impulses to destroy, as we move into a culture of ongoing appreciation and support for the ample creative resources that lie in each of us, which truly heal us all. That would be the greatest love of all.

I told Lily I had to do my taxes.

“Do you like to do your taxes Mommy?”  she asked.

Wow. What should I tell her?

I have always loved numbers and counting. As a child I watched people coming on and off the subway and kept a tally of them, how many women were there and how many men. For some reason this really delighted me.  Numbers add up, and give me a feeling of perfection about the world. As an adult, like most of us, I feel dread when I think about taxes. I generally have to pay more than I want to, and might be financially prepared or unprepared to do so. This does not create the same satisfying feeling I had as a kid counting.

Yet when I look at Lily’s face she genuinely tries to learn from me about the world, so I decided to create a new intention. Regardless of what the numbers turned out to be, I decided I would enjoy the process of looking at the numbers.

I set my Pandora station to “The Black-Eyed Peas” and looked at taxes and just saw them as numbers. I bopped to the music. I worked the calculator. I tabulated all income and expenses, and enjoyed the process of coming up with totals in every category. The numbers accompanied the melodies, and I entered a space where the various sections had a different theme song. I was done in two hours. It turned out to be a bit more than I’d expected to pay, but the process did not cost me the way it has in the past. I wasn’t drained or defeated.  It all just became numbers and music.

Now I can honestly tell Lily, “Yes, I do like to do my taxes.” This year I will pay my taxes like everyone else, but did not dread the process. I am grateful that my daughter gets to see that sometimes even “have-tos” can have a theme song we can somehow enjoy.