Libs on the Reel: reflection

Friday, August 31, 2012

Stay awhile--watch the sun go down...

The sky reflects pink and the city's stunning skyline echos brightly below.

The wooden planks rattle as bikes roll across. The wind blows my hair into my face.

I look up at the arches of the bridge and imagine that if there is a heaven, these must be what the gates look like.

As the sunset on summer approaches, I take a breath and begin to reminisce on the times that have resonated these last few months. What a beautiful--delightful summer it has been.

I've had a lot of favorite moments this summer--from stunt jumping, to taking on a new job, to my acting classes, to buying my new bicycle--but none stands out more than one particular night that reminded me to stop rushing--actually--one particular night that reminded me to just stop at all.

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On July 5th, even time began to stand still. Walking through Brooklyn Bridge Park, I felt at home. I always feel at home in New York City--but this time felt different. Much of this had to do with the epic view of the most beautiful bridge in the city, but a lot of it also had to do with the company I was in--someone who knows a lot about enjoying and living in the present moment.

As we continued along our walk, we stumbled upon a free screening of E.T. We stood wondering if we should stay--or we should go. Many times--in this world--people to leave, to say "I'll do that one day--but not today." However, on this night we opted to stop--we opted to stay.

That night, following the film, my friend sent me a note about the "stopping" experience--the lesson learned:

"Because we know that we have grown accustomed to moving too fast--when we want to leave something because we think we don't have time--just wait a little longer...Even if you need to lay down and take a couple deep breaths." - Rachael C. Smith

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The rattle of wooden planks brings me back to the current moment--here, and now, where I am sitting on a steel beam that separates the pedestrian area from the traffic below.

I watch the clouds turn back to white from their pink, and the sky glows a mix of purple and blue.

Stay awhile-watch the sun go down-even a big city has the warmth of your favorite small town.

I opt to stay and take a few deep breaths. I am present. I am home.

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Who is that woman I see...staring back at me?

A puddle, a mirror, and glass windows at night all have one thing in common: When you look into them, you see

yourself…your physical self at least. When you look into a cappuccino, you see foam. But not this morning. This morning when I looked into my final cappuccino of 2011, I saw a reflection of memories and moments of 365 days of laughter, of tears, of smiles, of joys, of sadness—365 days of life—365 days of Me.

Many people will say that you are a man or a woman when you hit 18—that you have suddenly gone from being a teenager to a well-mannered adult who should be treated like one. Girls and boys are now used as terms to describe children, and man and woman are words that now describe you or your friend.

But I don’t think I really considered myself grown up—I don’t think I really considered the reflection I saw to be a woman—as opposed to a girl—until this year—until I really felt as though I grew up.

Over the course of the year, I made a grown-up decision to return to the states as my wallet grew thinner and my ambition expanded. I beat bouts of anxiety and downward excitement with conversation and coffee. I defeated dismal days of dread with an optimistic outlook. And I challenged myself beyond belief.

I made family a priority.

I kept my best friends--the best friends in the entire world.

I made new friends.

I found a family of comradery in a world full of comedy.

I discovered that the city is lonely til you reach out and make it not so lonely.

I learned that people here will support you as you unconditionally support them, and that giving a lot, means receiving a lot more.

I forged a friendship with several inspirational mentors who I never struggled to let criticize and push me towards my goals and my dreams.

I released those from my life that were creating a negative film over my perspectives and I made my own decisions.

I reconnected with those that I had lost touch with days, months, years ago; who once were a large part of my life, but had since been lost due to distance and time.

I kept in touch with those that I left just over a year ago to tackle my trembling fear that I would never return to Italy.

I let people in.

And I let me…know me. I smiled. I laughed. I cried. I joked. I stumbled. I stood.

And in the foam of this beautiful and delightful fragile cappuccino…I reflect. And I think “Looking pretty good Libs…Looking pretty great.”

Here’s to 2011…and Here’s to 2012—a year of excitement.