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I just finished re-reading “the alchemist”, a book which always touches my soul on a profound level…. reminding me that we are all capable of great & limitless miracles.  In my life, i have always done my very best to follow my heart.  Sometimes, this has caused a great deal more anguish than ecstasy, but those times are overshadowed by the joy & fulfillment to which my heart has directed me.  Even so.. though I’ve always tried to listen….. there have been pivotal moments when my heart has been very hard to hear…

I remember a time…. Many years back now, when I was at a crossroads in my life.  I was struggling with an identity crisis of sorts, brought about by a shift in careers.  and a move across the country.  After many years as a musical theater actress in NYC, I had recently transplanted myself in LA…. A city where 2,000 seat theaters were scarce, and reality ‘celebutants’ were abundant.   Without any musicals to audition for, I found myself going in for a lot of episodic co-star & guest-star television roles.

Now, if you’ve never had the pleasure…. These roles require the mastery of complex dialogue such as “would you like room for cream?”, and “may I take your coat?”.  Needless to say, my time spent training in Meisner technique, and studying Shakespeare with Elizabeth Smith of Julliard were not exactly applicable here. I was feeling a bit…. Unfulfilled trying to peel away the layers of characters like “girl in car”  and “woman walking dog”.

I distinctly remember one day in particular… I was sitting in a waiting room on the SONY lot, reviewing sides for the character “front desk girl #2”, dissecting my line (singular): “ocean view, Or patio?”.  I looked up from my script & realized I was sitting in a room with approximately 14 other girls matching the breakdown description: “cute, fit, blonde ‘girl next door type’, with an un-assuming sexiness and cheerfully perky disposition”.   Half of these ‘girl next door’ types were probably just as over-trained as I was, while the other half were probably popular high-school prom queens who dreamt of being famous on their good looks and “cheerfully perky dispositions” alone.  When they called my name, I went in for the producers and did my DAMNDEST to wow them with my heart-wrenching, three dimensional interpretation of “front desk girl #2”.  Afterward, they stared at me, conversed amongst themselves, and then asked if I could do it “more as if I was wallpaper… or background scenery” so I wouldn’t be so noticeable. It was then... in that very moment that I realized…. I was in the wrong place.  This could not possibly be my calling.  My heart was assuredly NOT telling me to go & live my dream of being wallpaper or scenery for David Caruso and the like to chew on.

So I left SONY, pulled into the nearest parking lot, (which… in an ironic twist happened to be a paint & wallpaper depot) and cried.  and I mean…. CRIED.  a lot.  The kind of crying where you need to put frozen peas on your eyes for several hours the following morning so as not to frighten any little children you might pass.  I could not stop the persistent, stinging flow of tears, and I remained in this emotional state for the next several days, as I desperately tried to re-evaluate my life.   A serious vocal injury made going back to NYC for musical theater work impossible, and no one in Hollywood seemed to care AT ALL that I had shared a stage with Tony Curtis.. or  played opposite Ann Margret.  They barely noticed that I had tap danced for 2,000 people a night, and sung my heart & lungs out eight shows a weekin NY.  They only seemed to care that I could blend into the background, and not pull focus from whatever C-List star was speaking the ‘important lines’.

I felt lost.  I no longer wanted to 'pretend' to be someone else.  i wanted to find my SELF.

Now, I should mention, that simultaneous to all this, I was beginning to hit a stride in my yoga & fitness career.  My classes were becoming ‘wait-list’ only, and I had begun shooting DVDs, appearing on television as a celebrity trainer, and garnering some pretty heavy attention from publications like SHAPE, and SELF.   I was loving the creativity that seemed to flow so freely from my heart, and the intense connections I was establishing with my students. I even found myself dreading a call from my agent that would force me to miss a class for some mind-numbing audition.  Not too shabby for the fitness career which, at the time, I considered my “money job”.  I was so busy looking over ‘here’….. lamenting all the acting doors that weren’t exactly closing… but suddenly weren’t so appealing….  that It never even occurred to me to look for my true passion over ‘there’… at all the fitness doors opening wide, and enticing me to enter.

My heart was desperately trying to tell me where it wanted to be… but I couldn’t hear it yet.  I was still grabbing for that life which I thought I wanted, more out of habit than anything else.   I was so busy clinging to that long ago child who dreamed of growing up to be Ginger Rogers, or Audrey Hepburn, that I was distracted from a NEW dream…a brighter, shinier one, that would free me from trying to be somebody ELSE, and enable me to be……. Myself.  I was still gripping that “old” dream so tightly, trying to maintain control of the life I THOUGHT I wanted, that I felt as though I was falling to certain death.  (dramatic? Indeed, but such is the heart of the creative soul in turmoil)

About a week later, still feeling low & lost…I walked into St. Monica’s church for a service.  I hadn’t been to mass in ages, but something called me there, so I climbed the tall stairs to sit in the balcony, in the hopes of ‘blending in’ with the regular congregation.  When the homily began, a visiting pastor was giving the sermon.  He re-counted the adventurous life of his youth, spending a decade before priest-hood traveling with a circus.  He recounted fascinating tales of fire-breathers & sword swallowers, but one story stuck in his mind more than any other.  a conversation with a young trapeze artist, in which he found the ultimate metaphor for faith:

One afternoon he was speaking with a 5^th generation “flyer”, whose job it was to fly through the air before (hopefully) getting caught by the “catcher”.  The priest asked the flyer “How do you do it?  How do you let go of what's certain, & go flying through the air, hoping to catch and grab hold tight enough to hold on?”   To this, the flyer replied: “catching and holding is not my job.  I must have faith. I must defy my natural survival instincts, which tell me that as i leap, I must grab hold & cling tightly for life.  Doing so would be the biggest mistake, for if I tried to grab the hands of my catcher, I would surely break both our wrists, and fall to my death.  Instead, I must relinquish control.  I must trust in my training & preparation, and above all…. In my ‘Catcher’.  I must fly without fear, for there is no control.  There is only faith.  I must  reach out my open arms, and trust that I will be caught & brought safely to the other side”....

At the end of the sermon.... high atop the balcony of St. Monica's…. I began crying again.  Only this time, not in sadness. But rather in joy. and awareness. and relief.  It was in that moment that I knew….  I must take that same leap of faith.  I had to trust that my "Catcher" (be it God, or Buddha, or the Universe, or the Collective Consciousness… or whatever higher power exists) was closing doors for a reason, and that the ones that opened in their place would lead me to my  true calling,…  my own ‘personal legend’.  I would have to leave behind the safety &  familiarity of the ‘old’ dream & open my arms as well as my heart to a free fall toward a NEW dream.  A dream where I could touch peoples’ hearts & souls, and even find my true self along the way.  and that.... is when i took the flying leap that landed me safely..... on my Yoga mat

"We need to forget what we think we are, so that we can become what we truly are."
-Paulo Coelho

want to see my flying leap? Here's the video!