Stepping into Magic: an actor's journey…

"Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them" ~William Shakespeare

Archive for the month “November, 2016”

HerStory: After the results.


Emma Esselstyn (center) joined thousands of demonstrators in Seattle.                     Karen Ducey/Getty Images

Her words are a collective yell in news feeds, comments, links, articles, texts, stories:

“Where can I sign up for Self Defense Classes?”

“I am not safe living here as an immigrant.”

“This is dangerous for us.”

“I can’t stop crying.”


Her daughters are confused and worried,

“The look on my daughter’s face was priceless.”

“My daughter was so upset.”

“My girl burst into tears.”

“I didn’t know how to tell her.”

“She doesn’t understand.”

Her youth from all walks of life are scared and in danger of being uprooted,

“Students hid under the bed this morning, in fear of deportation, and didn’t want to go to school.”

“What about my parents?”

Her protectors are taking to the streets and filling the air with their chants,

“How did this happen?”

“Not my President.”

“White Lash”

“I feel so much anger.”


“If you see something, say something.”

She hears our angst, watches our tears fall, grasps our clenched fists.

Her voice fills our hearts with hope, action, love,

“Popular vote…”

“The healing power of sisterhood.”

“Thank You.”

“I Love You.”


“The future is Female, it is You.”

“Don’t be Afraid, be Loud.”

“The sun will rise in the morning.”

“We will not mourn, we will organize.”

The pens have been taken up with more purpose,

the shoes are laced with stronger determination,

the voices are turned up with clear objectives,

the eyes are clear with a specific plan,

and the hearts are full with a beating drum to guide the FIGHT,

To guide the ACTIVISM,

To guide the MOVEMENT,

To guide the ART,

Her voice still reminds us:

The time is NOW

The Time has ALWAYS been NOW


HerStory: Before the results…


She is in me.

Within my connective tissue and cells are parts of Her.

The air I breathe was once taken in by another who didn’t have the rights I do today.

The air I exhale will be passed on to another who will change the world.

Her name is many, her face is millions, her dreams are for everyone.

I can feel a heartbeat to a song that was formed in the caves and treetops.

In my throat is a yell, a Grito, a scream that comes from Her.

The past/prestent/future fights & struggles cause my hands to clench at INJUSTICE.

Those same hands are guided to grasp on to the hands of my family, fill the pages of journals, type updates and status posts, feel the tree trunks, the prick of a thorn on a rose, touch the face of my love, strum the strings of my guitar, send text messages, chop food and prepare meals, hold the pages of a script and dance with the air…

Those same hands are HERS, and they are the hands that cast a vote at this moment in HERStory.

A vote that couldn’t be cast  a mere century ago.

She was with me as I sat in my OB/GYN waiting room, interacting with a little girl filling out my ballot and darkening the circles.

She reminded me of our power.

She cannot be ignored.

Our power will not be ignored.

HERStory will continue to be told.

We are creators, we are magic, we are change makers and caretakers, we are Her.

OURStory is unfolding,

pages are being scripted,

stakes are high,

legacies are on the line,

challenges have been made,

help has been given,

forces have been joined,

breath is being held,

All eyes are on Our Divided United States.

Her voice whispers in my ears:

“The time is NOW.”


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