words & art by shé

bookshelf

listening to love

  • Essay #18: independence

    Today I took my independent self rollerskating. Wearing clothes made by others, I drove a car made by others, fueled by petrol drilled by others in another country. I parked on a street and rolled down a path made and maintained by others. I had a bottle of city water from a tap that runs…

  • Essay #17: water dance

    Last Saturday, I joined dancers in 60 cities around the world in a 24-hour performance event that rolled through the time zones from Australia to Hawaii: Global Water Dances. We all started at 5pm, local time, on June 25. In Olympia, I lead the opening ceremony at Watershed Park. The night before I still didn’t…

  • Essay #16: rest

    Rest. Why is that so hard to do? Last week I crashed. I said yes to too many projects, and became stressed to the point of intense headaches and sleeplessness. It’s almost midnight when I notice a sign in the window on Martin Way: Abrupt Edge. Metaphorical, but true. I didn’t know I’d fallen over…

  • Essay #15: sing out

    I have a song in my heart. But somewhere along the way to growing up I decided I wasn’t good enough to sing it. Recordings of my voice made me cringe. I sounded squeaky, and girly. I wanted a tough-babe smoky growl – muy macha. Whenever I think I should be different than I am,…

  • Essay #14: joy is a vitamin

    “I’ve wasted enough time not being happy,” said Jessica Lange (Oprah Magazine, April 2009). “I regret those times I’ve chosen the dark side.” So many brilliant, beautiful women choose the dark side: actors, writers, mothers. There’s tons in the arts, exploring the seamy side of life. Which is fine. But when it becomes your only…

  • Essay #13: memorial

    Several Memorial Days ago, when I was working for the state House of Representatives, the names of beloved dead were projected in the rotunda of the Capitol. A group of chamber musicians played while high up on a wall scrolled names of fathers, mothers, soldiers, sisters, brothers, friends. Earlier that week, in response to an…

  • Essay #12: the third way

    In response to what I thought was a benign comment, I was slimed by a nasty look from a co-op worker a few months ago. It was a doozy; folks nearby even commented on it: “whoa!” How do you deal with situations like this? I’m usually too stunned to respond in the moment, which pisses…

  • Essay #11: support

    “You are not a waste,” said the director’s assistant, while leading me to the restroom to compose myself. I had just mangled “Singing in the Rain” during an audition, finally putting us out of our collective misery by stopping the accompanist, and apologizing for wasting their time. Why I was auditioning for musical theatre, I…

  • Essay #10: mothering

    I woke up yesterday feeling like I finally got it, the whole mother thing. If I need mothering, I can do it myself. After all, who better than me to know what I want? Expectations of my mother dropped away – freedom! Today I feel like I did before: angry at her, and sad we’re…

  • Essay #9 #9 #9: heart palpitations

    Last week, after performing for several hours at Olympia’s ArtsWalk, my heart got stuck in overdrive. It was bumping and racing and thrumming in my throat. I drove home, showered, and got into bed. For hours I lay and meditated and listened to my wildly beating pulse. I wondered whether to call 911. I didn’t.…