ENTHUSIASM 2010

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<> I remember thinking and feeling, when I was young, that everything was still to happen. I’d think of a new place and my heart would race thinking of all the new friends I’d meet. (new as-yet-unmet friends) New places to explore. I didn’t know “about” passion then but I sure lived it.

Hitch-hiked somewhere, metro the coolest people in the coolest place so I stayed and became one of them!

I built a boat, a sailboat - actually - just because that was what was going on!

I bought some land, got married, built a kennel, showed dogs, went to university, took acting and psychology, bought a house, became a widow, fell in love and out of love (well maybe never really OUT of love but it ended); discovered Life Skills, stage management, the world of theatre, acting, singing, wore designer clothes, bought original art.

Scared when H3 died and scared when I thought I might die. 

I drove a purple car, met my baby I had given up at 17, became a grandma, moved to an island, met my mother and father and new brothers and sisters, both blood and in-law. 

More theatre, some film work, coaching actors, a little directing, fell in love and moved in together, heart trouble, she moved out (got scared?). 

Got a safe steady job. The heart trouble healed but has the heart? The true heart?

I remember being excited looking forward. Wondering what the next passion might be and when it would hit me.

Don’t get me wrong. There are still things I love - singing in my quartet, singing alone, gardening, acting on stage, auditioning, yoga, hanging out with my family, laughing, comedic art, comedy songs, New York. 

But I don’t feel that huge drive. I envy those who KNOW what they want and do it their whole lives. Amazing. I’ve met dancers like that and actors and singers (I HAVE sung my whole life) and writers and visual artists. Lots of people like that. But me? I flit from flower to flower, settling for awhile but always moving, picking up stakes and starting over. Cursed by my Aries nature? Good at starting but not at the long haul?

And now - I’m in the long haul. What happens next? How can I live with a purpose, which brings happiness and lightness to it all? What happens if or is it when I get sick again? With no partner, who will help me, care about me, look out for me, pull my chin hairs?

When my wonderful step-mom had her stroke and was in care, we brought her home for Christmas. I almost didn’t recognize her because of the fuzz on her face - overgrown eyebrows, fuzzy chin and upper lip plus the new grey hair because no one dyed her hair blond anymore. I felt bad for even noticing? She was still our Lori, after all. But she looked bad. - bad and old and neglected. We brought someone in to do the grooming she used to take care of herself!

And now my sister and I do that for our dad - to the barber and the manicurist for those basic grooming needs,. I think he likes it. I know I would!

But one shouldn’t go thru life - worrying about the chin hairs and the inevitable.

 I’d rather keep focused on the wondrous than the mundane.

Can I re-ignite enthusiasm? Or just manage a paltry imitation?

Is it going to be enough to do a little yoga, an acting class, occasional singing gig and spend my days in abject boredom at a straight day job?

How would I feel if I quit the job and tried an arts job again? With little money but people I understand? Could I find a way to be at a retreat centre? Or get involved in a theatre company somewhere? Move to New York and audition there?

ENTHUSIASM: 

Did my parents follow their dreams? Some of them did somewhat, others not at all.

ENTHUSIASM - 

When did it leave? Where did it go? Is it hiding or playing dead?

The frog on the cartoon that sings “Hello My Baby” until someone takes him to an agent where he only says “ribbit”. Is that fear? Or did his passion for singing suddenly die? (Not sure the analogy works for this argument.)

I’ve been everything from a temp employee at a trucking firm to a successful business owner; from a pregnant unmarried teen to a member of a great loving family.  And enthusiasm and hope was always present.   A belief in the future. Eventually the next great idea will arrive on the wind.

What am I still here for? There must be a purpose. How do I find it or does it find me?

Sometimes I think all my passion is gone - used up. I’ve become an empty vessel. Then I take a chance and go to acting class, dragging my feet there, complaining of exhaustion. Then I get in the room and I’m suddenly energized?

I’m trying to be enthusiastic. It’s true .You can ask anyone. Even before I knew I was! Once a friend asked me, “How do you do that? Always stay so upbeat?” I didn’t know how to answer. It was like asking the cherry blossom why it is pink. It never seemed like a choice.

But lately…something’s changed. When I look around at what life has to offer, I think - “but everything’s already happened.” I’ve done it all. There’s nothing left - nothing to look forward to now except chin hairs! AAaaarrrrgh!

So if there’s nothing left for me why am I still here? What if I’m wrong? I haven’t done it all - perhaps. But if so, what is it? Will the passion find me or must I seek it out? What makes it so damn elusive?

I was always enthusiastic but when I was a kid it was called precocious. I wanted so much to be a saint:! If I prayed hard enough, the Virgin Mary would appear to me, dressed in a long white muslin gown with a sky blue veil. I waited and waited and then I realized how would they know if I saw her or not? Barb would've dragged me to the priest for lying, and when I think I'm being pious.

Precocious children - it was called - precocious. Different ways of bringing Mary. I would do the Signs of the Cross, I tasted the holy water, sang the best, did my rosary at night, light a candle, wait for the vision. Precocious liar - It thought it was enthusiasm.

TEENS:

People were interesting. So many unmet friends - Who might I meet around the next corner? Barb’s drinking rum slush and I’m having fun on the water. Free to water ski, drink beer (where were we?), smells of the beach, smell of smoke in a guy’s hair, surprising flip of the stomach when someone touches my hand, Kim’s knee against mine.

Bionic and powerful - nothing could happen to me and it was all waiting you. It just happened - no agenda - there’s a boy and, now some pot, hitch hike to Vancouver. Life was so fun of enthusiasm itself. No time to think of it.