Daily Diary: AOMusic in Nepal: Day One. Following the Dream.

First Day in Chitwan, Nepal August 19, 2012: AOMUSIC Arrives

When I wake up I look at the clock these days and do my math. Ok. It is 8am here in Washington and it is just after suppertime in Nepal. “Hope they don’t drink the water”, I ponder. What is the team doing on their first day of having gotten to Chitwan? Then, I get a note from my daughter Jessie who is feeling the time change and cannot sleep. My luck. I get to hear a bit about their travels. Her email opens with:

“Good morning to you from the middle of the Chitwan National Park where elephants roam in the grasses across the water that we see from our balcony. Beautiful! We start with the kids at 11am tomorrow morning and are very excited.”

After meeting for the first time in Kathmandu Airport, having dinner together and getting to know one another before they get on a bus the next morning, everyone is wired. The bus is a long journey on tiny cliff sized roads but they got there safe and sound and are now settled into their hotel overlooking the only National Park in Nepal. A feast for the eyes.

So, tomorrow the crew meets the children and start both recording and filming, gets to know the village after taking a jeep ride from the Hotel and begins interviews with families.

I also got an email that was very thought provoking from the team. I sent contracts to each of the people going. You know. Those legal papers to cover everyone’s asses just in case a rogue elephant eats the camera. They were modest agreements but they lacked something in keeping with the spirit of this journey. This is what I heard from the Team which was written by my daughter:

“We need to discuss the contracts. We feel the wording is stern and of a square tone, not promoting the creative and inspirational intentions we are creating. The contract doesn’t reflect the project! it feels harsh and slightly aggressive. It just doesn’t hold up to the energetic integrity of the project. My intuition is that it doesn’t feel right. The magic will be subdued with a lingering unenthusiastic written contract. Kinda like not wanting to put something out into the universe that is not consistent with the intention. Law of attraction type deal”.

And this is my daughter. Waking me up to making sure I am calling in the energy I want for this project. I am so proud of her. Maybe I just graduated from parenting school.

So, I am letting you get to know the four major people on our AO team and what better way to start but by introducing my daughter, Jessie Felix. I will write more tomorrow and introduce Karan Sharma from India.

And! No one has said a thing about rain! Yeah.

So, for our first world traveler and adventurer: Jessie Felix. Jessie is our still photographer, one of our videographers as well as the one who will do most of the interviewing and carry the purse strings. She is amazing if I may say so myself….especially to travel with three men she does not really know. Here is what Jess says about herself.

“At 26 I have driven to the four corners of the U.S., been to forty-eight states and traveled to five countries outside of the United States. I have lived at 39 addresses and counting. I am an artist, a muse, and a nomad. I do not dare sit still as life grows all around waiting to be seen. I have attended six colleges in six different states and walked away learning to trust my intuition and to follow my heart that leads my feet forward.

I have experienced loss, tragedy, and devastation, come close to death, pulled myself out from the depths of hell. I have experienced broken hearts, disappointment, rejections, criticism, and failure. I have witnessed how love can transform and break someone, how death can be immobilizing, that life is a blessing and a curse. And what I now know is that nothing is truly predictable and everything can change in less than a heartbeat.

Happy tears do exist. The best ones fall from your face with complete perfection, and if you can face yourself in a mirror you can face anything. I have witnessed miracles and mysteries and been completely amazed by the most insignificant things. I try to capture what others may not see. I let my emotions come through the lens and immortalize.”

Please visit her at www.jessiefelix.wordpress.com

Next Stop: The Pacific Northwest

Jan29

At the most northern border of Washington sits a little peninsula called Point Roberts, which is the only spit of land that is not hooked to the United States, but is still called America, since you have to go into Canada and then back over the border again into Point Roberts to get to it at all. Three sides of water, 1700 people and a wild terrain make it an unusual destination for anyone. But not for a writer.

I am here for a month to finish a first draft of the screenplay I have been hired to write. There is no cell phone service for me and even land line service is unreliable. That is good. I have the fortune of waking up ever morning to opening my large windows that look out on an idyllic scene. Right in front of my house is a large winter pasture, filled with Icelandic Ponies that exude a kind of old world energy with their shaggy coats, long trailing tails of rust and black that blow in the persistent wind, and their plush manes. It is a frequent sight to be watching them and as they are sipping at a winter pond in the field, a Bald Eagle will joint them for a bath. Everyone completely at home with one another. Everyone certain of their own unique nature and living it without restraint. Oh if that were true for all of us humans.

And, looking past the field, are the Strait of Georgia, a grey blue ocean with rolling hills of Canada in the distance. I have not seen the whales yet and do not know their winter migration habits.

So, The Point is full of writers, retired folks, old timers, hermits, eccentrics and transplants like me. Individuals and families, most of them women so far, that find the seclusion, the simplicity and the rural flavor and rhythm to be just what they are looking for and have moved here from all over the world. I can see the benefits immediately for me as a writer.

And getting here was momentous. I left Asheville on the 17th and flew to Denver for two big events. The first was to meet with my Lawyer about my non-existent driver’s license. Last judge, Higher Court, made an appeal to change the spelling on the original name change document that was ten years ago, and once again, an inexplicable NO. So, a new tack is being taken. I am going to Canada and getting an International Driver’s License. Now this is creative. Please send good thoughts my way that this will be easy and simple. And of course Marriage is not ruled out, so a lottery might just be created in the future.

There is a letter in the mail to my Congressman, I never got an audience with the Governor of Colorado so a letter to him is underway and I am almost finished with an expose for Channel Nine in the special interest category. We will see where any of it leads, but it is certain that I am having ample opportunity to use my voice in creative ways.

The second big event was re-uniting with a dear friend who I have not seen for ten years , who now lives in Sweden. She is an exceptional international painter and brought a body of her newer work to Denver. She has had an extraordinary life and was graced to lived inside the wonderful Miracle of finding love on 9/11 while others experienced the endless losses of that day. I am so privileged to know her and trying to catch each other up on our many twists and turns of life over a decade filled with love, death, children, changing careers, travels and aging was quite an exercise.

So, I am here now in Point Roberts to write and prepare for my next leap of faith. Just before leaving for the West Coast for some of my very own seclusion, I was seized with a knowing that I wanted to apply to The Film School in Seattle. I have wanted to attend their Screenwriters Bootcamp for years, but my faith in myself as a screenwriter was not strong enough and time never seemed to be right.

The school is the creation of actor Tom Skerritt (www.thefilmschool.com) and has reached international acclaim for their commitment to helping writers remember the art of story telling and character development, which we do not see much any more out of Hollywood. So, as I can feel the power of the story I am writing about the triumph on one man’s spirit, I decided to apply for their Bootcamp in March. Then of course I noticed they only took 25 people internationally.

There they were. The voices at my left ear whispering: “Maya what are your thinking? You are 30 years older than every applicant, you have no production experience on your side of the ledger, you are a woman and you know how that has been and always will be in Hollywood, and you know you won’t get in so what are you thinking…WHAT are you thinking?” So I applied and told the voices to shut up.

I got in.

Wow is all I can say.

I will leave here on Feb 25th for Seattle, renting a room with a kitchenette and starting a 6 day a week, 12 hour a day writers dream, complete with no time to shower or sleep and lots of coffee I don’t even drink. I need to relearn the bus system, remember how to take a backpack everywhere with my computer and camera, find a local health food store that is open very early in the morning, and forget about all those supplements I usually take and just dive in.

I am so very appreciative of this opportunity. It seems that when I simply quiet myself and listen intently to what my guiding voice from my heart tells me, no matter how unfathomable, how outlandish, how inconvenient or how much money I think I don’t have etc…..I am always led to exactly where my soul needs to be and most of the time I did not even really know my soul needed to be there.

After four months, it is clear that living in the Flow of Life, fully surrendering all control, is the only way I want to be living from this time forward. And oddly enough as I arrive at this commitment it is exactly what is called for to live in the year 2012. I have come to realize that the most important part of living is for me to be deeply aware of what brings me Joy and Inspiration. Period. People think that living for love, or living for what brings happiness means that you don’t do the responsible parts of life. That is not true. You just bring a happier more inspired person to those tasks we have to do to be a responsible global citizen.

All the years of thinking life was about what I DID and not about just BEING happily in myself were years that I know I created my own ill-health and my own struggle to do the right thing, to do the acceptable things, to do too much and overdo it in so many ways that never led me to a sense of calm knowing who I am and why I am here. I am glad to have found my way out of that illusion and into a space in my life only filled with possibilities.

History of New Years Eve

Dec31

“Today is New Year’s Eve, in which the old year is ushered out, and the new one welcomed in, with parties, socializing, and alcohol — often champagne. In the United States, we have a tradition of dropping, or raising, a large object exactly at midnight. The custom of dropping a ball arose out of the time signals given to ships at harbor starting in 1859. A large ball was dropped exactly at one p.m. every day (noon in the United States), so sailors could check their ship chronometers.
The Times Square celebration dates back to 1904, when The New York Times opened its headquarters on Longacre Square. The newspaper convinced the city to rename the area “Times Square,” and they hosted a big party, complete with fireworks, on New Year’s Eve. Two hundred thousand people attended, but the paper’s owner, Adolph Ochs, wanted the next celebration to be even splashier. In 1907, the paper’s head electrician constructed a giant lighted ball that was lowered from the building’s flagpole. The first Times Square Ball was made of wood and iron, weighed 700 pounds, and was lit by a hundred 25-watt bulbs. Now, it’s made of Waterford crystal, weighs almost six tons, and is lit by more than 32,000 LED lights. The party in Times Square is attended by up to a million people every year.
Other cities have developed their own ball-dropping traditions. Atlanta, Georgia, drops a giant peach. Eastport, Maine, drops a sardine. Ocean City, Maryland, drops a beach ball, and Mobile, Alabama, drops a 600-pound electric Moon Pie. In Tempe, Arizona, a giant tortilla chip descends into a massive bowl of salsa. Brasstown, North Carolina, drops a Plexiglas pyramid containing a live possum; and Key West, Florida, drops an enormous ruby slipper with a drag queen inside it.
In Scotland, New Year’s Eve marks the first day of Hogmanay, a name derived from an Old French word for a gift given at the New Year. There’s a tradition at Hogmanay known as “first-footing”: If the first person to cross your threshold after midnight is a dark-haired man, you will have good luck in the coming year. Other customs vary by region within Scotland, but most involve singing and whiskey. Craig Ferguson said Hogmanay “is a time when people who can inspire awe in the Irish for the amount of alcohol that they drink decide to ramp it up a notch.”

A Gypsy Joke

Oct17

One of my friends and I were staring at each other in bewilderment over a steaming cup of tea while sitting in a nearby cafe as she burst out laughing. “Ok, there is a joke in this!”, She said. “What is a gypsy without a car?”. We both howled.

So, what IS a gypsy without a car in our 21^st century? Well, I am finding out the myriad of answers to that odd question since at this moment the Universe has orchestrated a challenge for me of not having a valid drivers license which does curtail ones travel plans.

Let me back up briefly. Gypsies are nomadic and mobile at heart. They need to pack up and relocate or wander at any given moment and carry with them simple and transportable belongings. They need to be ready to go the direction the wind is calling.

In another century, if someone came into a Gypsy camp and said, “Well, we are not only taking your gypsy wagons away from you, but we are taking your horses too!”, I think there would have been a mild uprising at the very least. So, in this moment of history, not having a driver’s license, when everything I have packed for travel is in my car is, at the very least, is just a tad inconvenient.

In short, here is how it happened and much like Julie, in the movie “Julie and Julia” who had to confess to her public when one of her recipes simply failed or she could not dress a proper chicken, there is a twinge of embarrassment. But, it is just part of the journey. My oddly difficult driver’s license renewal sage to date goes like this:

I moved my few things to North Carolina. I needed a new drivers license. I stood in lines forever. I was first asked if I wanted to donate vital organs after a car crash and then they checked whether I do in fact have hazel eyes and am 5’5”, which I had to correct since it seems as I am shrinking and am now 5’4”. And then they asked a question that 10 years ago I was not asked: “What is your social security number?” Happily I gave it to them. Instantly, they said I could not have a driver’s license since somehow my name on my social security card did not match my current license. Really? Can you explain that please?

So, I started on the road to OZ, winding my way through what has become the most convoluted justice system I could ever have imagined. First, there were small-minded people who did not know answers and did not know who had the answers and then I got lost down the rabbit hole of our Social Security system. I didn’t think I was going to get out of the building alive and for a split second I thought I was on this year’s new TV series The Walking Dead.

The glitch seems to be one that no one in either civil or national governing positions has the answer to solving. It was even suggested that I just become 16 years young again and start over….after 40 years of driving…and take a written driving test and then a physical driving test so I could get my PERMIT and drive with some “responsible” 21 year old in the car of choice. So while I was in Colorado, the state my last official driver’s license was from, I did just that.

I went to get in line to be given the written test. I picked a number and the ocean of difference between the number I was given and the number flashing on the wall was….three hours worth of unhappy people. I sat. I waited. And then I thought I could go shopping for the next two hours and not sit here. So, I stepped outside. Across the street I saw “A-1 Driving School”.

I went in and shared my plight and they said that they gave written drivers tests and I could take one with them for $20. Then I could take it back over to the DMV and get in the front of the line. That was a no brainer. But, the wonderful woman took one look at me and asked me when the last time I took a test was, sensing that I might be just a wee bit behind on knowing driving laws or information, which of course, every pimply faced new driver has to know. Like is it a right or a privilege or an honor to drive a car? Now that is certainly debatable in my mind.

I was seated in an empty drivers education classroom right next to the woman’s eight-year-old daughter doing homework on her laptop and…5 rescue dogs. Fabulous dogs, each suffering from some unadoptable malady; One leg, one eye, too old, no fur. They were precious and each sat at my feet while I discovered what I was up against on the test. By the third question I was in trouble. When was the last time I even thought that I needed to treat a motorcyclist who is merging onto the interstate from an on-ramp any differently than any other moving vehicle?

I flunked. The woman was sad for me.

She said I could take the test again and mentioned some cautions and some of the new air bag regulations that she whispered in my ear just before going back in the room with the dogs. By the third question I was in trouble again. So, I broke out my secret weapon, my pendulum, just in case the testing rule of “when in doubt it is always choice “C”, did not seem just right.

So, here I am with a child asking me if I had ever driven a car before since I so obviously knew nothing about driving, with the one-legged pointer named Brownie licking my toes through my sandals and me knowing that they might be calling my number over at the DMV and I would loose my place in line. I stared at the last question. “How many feet back from the crosswalk at a stop sign do you need to stop your car with or without any people in it?” Ugh!

I did not flunk. I thanked the pendulum, grabbed my test that had “passed” on it and ran back to get to the front of the line at the DMV. Same questions about my organs, but looking good again and then the assistants face dropped. “It seems you need to deal with the Social Security problem you have miss. May I suggest you get a lawyer?” Sigh. I felt like Brownie the one legged dog.

I drove back to my friend’s house in her car, certain that every cop on the road knew who I was and would then be throwing me in the Poky.

So, I am now back in Asheville, looking online for a good Social Security lawyer and allowing my 28-year-old daughter to chauffeur me, which I must admit, is not so bad really. But, what is the lesson here? Lessons abound every day, but THE BIG LESSON is forming itself over time. I have had ample opportunity to practice a new kind of patience, with a bureaucratic process that is like holding a difficult yoga posture with people who don’t like their jobs and are short, befuddled and down right rude. I imagine I will be Gandhi by the end of this legal process.

I get to practice being happy while standing in line for hours only to be told I need slightly different paperwork and a new set of fingerprints since I could be a uni-bomber. I close my eyes often while in the waiting places and find gratitude that I was not in the salon when the angry father shot and killed eight people this week, but simply acknowledge that I am only waiting for the “privilege” to drive a car in the United States. Then the entire process becomes easy.

But, I have learned the most about patience and understanding with myself. Self love in the midst of floods of thoughts about how I could have known this before or done a dozen things differently. I become happy for the simple truth that I do my best and sometimes there are surprises in life that give me the opportunity to align just a little more with the truth of who I am…with or without a driver’s license…with or without a car.

I am certain this will be solved by Christmas and I will have the choice to be back on the road. I now have the creative opportunity to drive with friends, maybe find a traveling companion who wants to explore my next stops with me, stay put and write, which is a great idea or fly where I need to go, which is most likely not going to be my choice. I know that whatever changes I need to make to accommodate this tiny inconvenience will be part of the flow too and will lead to something I had not expected; a new friend, or a surprise that could not have happened unless I had had this little bump in my road.

So, I will let you know my creative solutions as the story unfolds. And I will share the punch line to “What does a Gypsy do without a car?” Any ideas?