A few days ago, I likened my life to a series of sandcastles. While my friends are building strong foundations of wood, and bricks, and steel in careers like Teaching, PR, and Medicine, I have chosen the way of the artist. And make no mistake, I have chosen it. I am 30 years old. I went to a BFA program, pursued it professionally for a number years in New York, gave it all up to be a ‘real person’, found some success but felt the fire inside of me die, then recommitted in sunny LA. I am in this. But, as I look at my life, I can’t help but feel like I am constantly building sandcastles only to have them washed away.
I said this in the context of my love life. Wondering aloud why I never attracted the kind of deep, fulfilling, nourishing, life-building relationship all of my friends seem to be manifesting. My answer came in the law of attraction. If my life is sandcastles, then the men I attract will be just as dazzling and just as ephemeral. I have wonderful little flings with interesting, beautiful people but none of them stay, all dissolving back into their own pursuits and insecurities.
Today, I grieve another lost creation. For a week, I thought my life had changed. A little project I did 6 months ago lead to a feature film writer/director seeing me. Six months later, he reached out and asked me to come in for the lead in his script. Granted, it was only for a workshop - funding won't come through for a while - but it was a big, wide, open door. I have never been considered for the lead in a feature film. Just to mix metaphors, it was like playing a game of shoots and ladders and getting a big ol’ ladder.
But, I felt ready. I have been working my ass off the last six months. Well, really the last year and a half. I have been in class for 12 out of 18 months, I have shot 6 student films, and one proof of concept short. I have done three theatre shows, crafted a reel, renovated my online presence. I have updated my wardrobe bought a $200 hair dryer, watched make up tutorials, stayed fit, stayed sane. I am ready for an opportunity like this.
So, I threw myself into it. I read the gorgeous script a first time and was bowled over by the Thomas Hardly like beauty of it. Approaching a terribly painful subject with such sensitivity to beauty amidst strife. My intuition gave me a song that helped me connect further (this is part of my process these days) and I cried as I sang to it, connecting my right brain to my left, burning it into my heart. Then I sat down for a second read with a fine tooth comb. I wrote out 24 questions that I had to either answer about my backstory before the audition.
I felt on fire. I felt so connected. I felt like this crazy pursuit really does have meaning, if I can give a character like this a voice. If I can give catharsis to the wounded and empathy to the fortunate who have never had to endure something like this. I couldn’t wait to be up in front of that director - the one who had plucked me from obscurity - to show him what I could do with this beautiful treasure trove he had put in my hands.
Then the wave. An kind, apologetic email telling me his actress friend was available and would be taking over the role. No need to come in. And just like that the castle is gone, a clay-like lump, misshapen and melting, then a smooth sweep of sand. A blank slate. A whole lotta nothing.
This is my life. Beautiful, ephemeral things that create such joy and then disappear. It’s very buddhist. Or something. Of course, there is a lot of good to be taken from this. I am good enough to be noticed. My inner fire is stronger than ever. I have been reminded why art matters. This director says he will bring me in for the actual feature when funding comes through. But, I miss that singular, spectacular castle, the one I can never create again.
Ah, well. Off to the beach to meet a new sandcastle. His name is Ben.
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