I N M Y O W N W R I T E
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On December 2, 2009, I was admitted into the hospital for the removal of a tumor in the lower T-12 section of my spine. It had been growing for some time and I only stopped working at my rapid-fire pace because of the excrutiating pain which led to the MRI revealing its presence. The year before I had fallen over my beloved black Labrador, Shaka. I ripped some muscles and injured other areas of my lower back at that time which led to a round of physical therapy, massage therapy, painkillers and overall bed rest.
But now, this was the "C" word and I was scared. My biggest fear was that I would not live five months. Suddenly life became very precious and I only wanted to do what was meaningful. While I lay in bed, in those quiet moments when it was just me, my thoughts and my belief in higher power, I decided that my creativity had to have purpose. So I started to draw and paint again. It had been 25 years between my last oil paintings and the work in acrylic I began in February, 2010. If God would allow me live and not be paralyzed, as I had been told was a possibility, I would honor him with the art I was led to create. I did not, and could not write the silly, insiped foolishness that Hollywood tends to want, but needed to focus on "honorable" work--a reason for living if, in fact, I was allowed to live at all.
Fortunately, my genius doctor brought me through with no nicking of nerves, and he got all of the tumor. With just a radiation seed and some physical therapy I was perfectly fine by February and have not looked back. There was no loss of hair, energy or spirit. But I did learn to slow down. I was forced to do that. I had been burning the candle at both ends--writing a screenplay, a novel, a play, and a miniseries pretty much at the same time because I thought I needed to have a project out every year. I was drinking coffee at all hours like the caffeine junkie I am (in fact I was going downstairs to get yet another cup when I fell over Shaka.)
But it was in those moments of silence, when my body would not do what I wanted it to do at 100% just after surgery, that I came to appreciate what I do have--family and friends. My friends rallied around and spent time cooking, making me laugh, and helping me organize my priorities. My brother, sister-in-law, and niece came to stay until I could operate on my own. Now I write some, I paint some, and I travel a lot. In the year plus since that awful health crises, I have well over 100 paintings to show for God's smile upon my soul which I exhibit. I write one project at a time and leave room for those cherished moments of silence when inspiration can emerge and flourish.
If there is anything I can share with you, my audience, visitors and friends, to hopefully help you along your own journeys of self discovery, it is to stop a moment to appreciate what you do have juxtaposed to what you do not. Even in these days of financial, residential and health woes, know that you can have a peace that is yours if you go within to the quiet place and spiritually heal thyself. Know that it will get better for your highest and best good. Nothing is insurmountable in the universe of your mind.
Agnes DeMille, the great American choreographer once said: “No trumpet sounds when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made silently.”
I've learned the hard way to celebrate that. Try it for yourselves.
