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“Get a mold done of my face, tomorrow? Really? We need to do that?”, I gulped. I had had this done once before and didn’t particularly enjoy it. Feeling panicky, I had to really, really concentrate so claustrophobia wouldn’t take over.
Currently, I’m starting to work on a project that entails mask work; therefore, we needed a form of my face.
I show up today, a day filled with many appointments, so the mask making wasn’t the main event, which was probably good, and tried to be nonchalant about the task at hand.
When Marlene first started to apply the wet strips to my face, I imagined I was having a special kind of spa treatment. And, really, when was the last time you let someone touch your face for twenty minutes, and then sit peacefully for 45 minutes in the dark? I found it relaxing and appreciated the rest in my crazy schedule.
Drying under the mold
During the drying period, I kind of “zenned out”, and enjoyed the break from facial expressing, and speaking. I could breathe well, and I also knew it would be over in a relatively short period.
As I drifted in and out of my quiet thoughts, an unexpected image suddenly popped into my head. I saw myself sitting across from me at the cafe where I had just been with my friend. It was as if I could suddenly see myself from another person’s point of view. I watched myself talk, and express what I had been earlier sharing, and I felt an overwhelming sense of compassion for this person, me. I had a strong sense of just wanting to hug me.
Being trapped in this mask, which was actually me, brought forth objective images I had never before experienced.
Behind the scenes of the mold
And, it felt warm and reassuring.
I think I learned something today…. under my own mask.
Yes… I’m being brave because I’m, for the first time, (I think), putting up a blog post that is simply some creative writing. I found this piece I had written a couple of years ago. In fact, long before boldly diving into blogging.
It shows my fear surrounding my writing, and also shows me that I’ve stopped listening to that voice, otherwise, I wouldn’t have a blog or two!
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The Voice
The cursor blinked on the empty page.
The voice was speaking. The voice was taunting, teasing, provoking, driving, tormenting, intensifying, and succeeding. It always succeeded. It always won. It wore a badge of honour. It had the best sabres, the best ploys, the best reasons; it even wore designer clothes- of course. It’s home? Her head. And, she was prisoner.
Each time she planted her fingers on the keyboard, a list of her shortcomings unfurled and the voice gladly announced each and every one of them.
She slammed her computer closed, grabbed her keys and sped with urgency out of the city.
In the woods, she stopped in front of a massive cedar tree and wondered at its thick bark protecting it from the wills of the world. She stared up at the resilient spire feeling dizzy. She found the voice’s argument to be strong and valid. Why on earth would her thoughts matter? What made her think she had anything significant to share or express?
The voice snickered with conceit, keeping up the momentum: “Not only are you a pathetic writer, you are unfocused, you have no hope, you are wishy washy, uncommitted, lazy, and…. “
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!” Her real voice suddenly competed. Her real voice spewed forth. Her body dizzyingly spun and she collapsed to the ground.
At last, silence.
A robin in the distance chirped – clear, unencumbered. The trees whispered with the wind nodding in approval. Finally, now, maybe she could write her piece.
Cathedral Forest, Vancouver Island
March 8, 2011, International Women’s Day is also the birthday of mentor and friend, Lynn Redgrave who, sadly, left this world last year. I would like to take this opportunity to look to the skies, and wish you, dear soul, Happy Birthday, and thank you for being an outstanding female comet passing through my life.
I would also like to acknowledge some of the other women who have had an impact on my life.
Naturally, the first woman is my mother… she gave birth to me. I thank her for living healthily while pregnant with me, and saying no to Thalidomide, a drug that could have made my life quite different. Thank you for asking me, “what do you really want to do” that time in Quebec City. It was the first time I admitted out loud the desire to act. All that serendipitously occurred after was directly attributed to your encouragement. (I know it wasn’t exactly what you had hoped your daughter would do as a career… but… 
) Thank you for taking me to England to see GrandDad, and sharing a massive laugh on the Tube when we weren’t sure how the transit worked! And, thank you for all my sweaters you knitted me.
They say it takes a community to raise a child. Well… I think it takes a community to make a good human being. Some of the women who were part of my community are now gone, and, some are thankfully still here:
Gerda, our next door neighbour with the great garden, in Banff. So loving, so giving, and so sad when we moved. The joy and warmth I felt when I returned always remained. And, that silver ring you bought me in Calgary is still on my finger. I think of you often.
Ring from Gerda
Jill, “Auntie Jill”, also a close family friend and neighbour in Banff. You are still in my life and my heart warms when I hear your British voice on the phone. Thank you for letting me stay with you when I returned and worked at the Banff Centre. I treasure all our hikes in the Rockies, and our many giggles over shared stories, especially the “naughty” ones!
Brenda, you have been my “best friend” since we were two years old. You are still in Banff, and we see each other infrequently, but our friendship is strong. Kindred spirits… I fondly remember our camping adventure in Cavendish, PEI when we were young and spry. Those boys were afraid of swimming in the big waves, but not us! (perhaps we should have been, but.. 
)
Good friends from wayyy back
Tona, an old family friend who lived right up to end with her family of animals. She was a strong, spirited lady who nobody could stop. You let us stay in your home when we were first on PEI. Your story of being on the horse in the Yukon, and feeling free, stayed with me. Maybe one day I’ll do the same.
Jackie, another family friend who has passed. We called each other “Sis”. You were my first official sister, filling the void of no siblings (even though you were a bit older than me). When I was 14 my parents flew me out to Victoria to stay with you for a month. It was an adventure, and most likely wet my appetite to return to the West. I now have my Dad’s artwork that you willed me. I just picked it up, and had a nice visit with your niece. I’m glad she’s in my life, now.
Joanie, you are also in another world. I miss your sisterly love, and talk to you often. All the times we spent growing up together! Drawing, talking, baking, you doing my hair, laughing long into the night, and our favourite activity, going to concerts by the Stampeders! Remember that night when we both met our favourite bandmembers? Wow…
Miss you, Joanie
Joanie’s Mum, with a capital M, is still in my life. Thank you, Bea, for your “making lemonade out of lemons” advice, and for all those Boxing Day meals with our families intermingling. Glad you were here when I first moved back to Vancouver.
A life long friend..
Aileen!! Remember that month where you stayed with me while my parents took a trip? Thank you for letting me drive your little red Volkswagen bug over & over, so I could take my driving exam in Charlottetown before they returned. I was so excited when I got my license, despite the driver’s door almost falling off!
Phyllis, my high school buddy. Our relationship has grown over the years, and I thank you for being a sister when that’s the last thing you need since you have 14 siblings. As an “only child” I’m grateful to be adopted by you. Our playful memories harken back to our high school dances, and the hallway laughs.
Joan B., you are another sister to me, especially after you losing your real sister. Now I’m a surrogate “Auntie” to your two wonderful little sisters you brought into the world. Thank you for sharing them. Thank goodness one of us was brave enough!
Denise G., je vous remercie infiniment. Sans vous, je n’aurais pas fini le Conservatoire. Votre affection et d’encouragement et de toutes les heures supplémentaires que vous m’avez donné pendant ma première année m’a sauvé la vie! Chapeau à vous.
Kelly, you were there for me when I had my back operation. Thanks for calming me, and making me soup. And that road trip down the coast, to LA, over to Vegas, and into Death Valley and back up has become a rich memory. What fun we had!
Happy in the country...
As I write about the women in my life, I realize how lucky I have been, and how fortunate I am. The names above are just a taste of my sisterhood.
The amazing list goes on: Mel, Helena, Frederique, Silver, Margaret, Elizabeth D., Eun Joo, Sarah, Annie, Heather, Chara, Cheryl & Meg, Colleen, Elaine, Janet, Leah, Hannah, Allisa, Charlene, Jemma, Lita, Maureen, Shannon…
Today, my intention is to mark, acknowledge, remember, and contemplate the fortune I have had with each and every woman who has crossed my path for long or short periods. I have learned from all of you.
The fear of writing a post like this is that you might forget someone. If your name is not here, please know that the above is a sampling…otherwise, you are in my heart. Or call me and give me hell! (I am getting older!)
Happy International Women’s Day to all my Sisters!!
It’s that time of year again…. The sentimental, nostalgic, busy, stressful, warm, sad, exciting, loving, indulgent, restful, abundant, lacking and so on, time of year.
Depending on your circumstance, Christmas can be a very wonderful time. Or it can be the absolute opposite. If it is… hang in there, for this too, shall pass. For me, it is a mix of all of the above. But, mostly I find it a wonderful time to re-connect with friends
I am grateful for the homey snow filled country Christmases my family and I experienced growing up in Banff, and then PEI. Those fun, close times have become very warm, sometimes sentimental, memories.
Now I’m in the city and my partner, Peter and I are having a quiet, rainy Christmas together. My family is still in PEI, and Peter’s is scattered around, too. But, it is cozy in our little apt. and I will still do a turkey… just because.
My main reason to show up here, at my blog, however, was to wish anyone reading a peaceful and caring Holiday season. Hopefully you have a lot for which to be grateful, and some close friends and/or family sharing.
I wish you a Healthy, Loving, Creative, and … Fun New Year.
All the best from both me, Trilby, and Peter….
Trilby & Peter Dec. 24
“Pride Fun…”
I found myself feeling proud as I stood on the side of Beach Street in the West End of Vancouver the afternoon of August 1st. The sun was gently mixing with soft clouds making the temperature comfortable, and the view of the ocean and mountains completed the smug feeling I was experiencing.
“We live in a pretty darn nice place,” I thought, and expressed it to my partner who was standing behind me with a big grin. He agreed.
We weren’t standing alone. We were with about 700,000 other people enjoying one of Vancouver’s biggest celebrations, The Gay Pride Parade, on Pride Weekend.
It was my first Pride Parade and I loved watching both the audience and the participants. The word liberation kept coming to my mind. Liberation and celebration.
I saw a community of strength and determination, and belonging. I saw inclusion, family, youth, elderly, love, un-leashed craziness (in the best way possible).
watching the Pride Parade in comfort
I saw Pride.
I felt proud to be in a community where our Chief of Police strolled with other officers in the parade. I loved that the TD Bank had a sexy, sparkly float with young people dancing.
TD Bank doing their thing!
I respected the political statements (“Sex on beaches NOT Exxon beaches”) and admired the participants who proudly displayed their protests.
The journey continues to liberate worldwide
I laughed at the characters dressed in outlandish imaginative outfits as they taunted the crowds.
Having a lot of fun!
We have come a long way in how this community is viewed, and I commend the courage that many, many people have had to have in order to be themselves… not an easy task even in the best of times. Us “heteros” can learn from you!
To myself, I thought… next year? My wild and woolly bouffons need to be here! Look out 2011!
Stay tuned for another summer vignette…
Dear Lynn,
Monday morning, May 3rd, I received a text message from a friend that said, “I thought of you this morning when I heard on the news about Lynn Redgrave.” News? What news? My heart instantly sank and I jumped on the Internet to confirm my worst fear. “Lynn Redgrave died peacefully in her home in Connecticut on Sunday night.”
No…
All day I couldn’t do anything else but sit at my computer and read stories about you, and the many sad reactions, (I hope you realize what an impact you had on so many people) and gently start on my own journey of reminiscing.
When I first met you during a costume fitting for the Canadian feature film, “Touched“, shot in the mysterious Similkameen Valley, I felt a bit intimidated, but you soon fixed that with your humour and openess!
I was working as the assistant costume designer to designer Crystine Booth, and once in production, the costume set supervisor. I was beyond thrilled to be working near you, a “Redgrave”, and the actor in me was ready to absorb and learn from a master.
I loved watching you work, before a scene, during a scene, and even afterward. I gradually learned to recognize when you needed your walkman and would sneak your headphones on your ears just before your request!
In between scenes on "Touched"
I was honoured when you quietly started sharing your thoughts about your work on the film, and in that process, I knew you were also acknowledging my acting experience.
We became friends.
Much later, after many personal trials and tribulations for both of us in our separate lives, you invited me to New York. You opened up your life to me, and I got to experience your generosity, and affection.
Spring in Connecticut...me & Lynn
You made a dream of mine come true. You offered to coach me. In exchange, I had to help you learn lines of your next play.
Later, I thought to myself, “What was I thinking? Now I have to perform in front of Lynn Redgrave! Am I nuts?” I didn’t tell you my fear .
When I finally nailed my Shakespeare monologue in your living room, you leapt off the couch and into the air saying, “You were f—-g great!”… Wow… I was in heaven.
I still cannot believe you are gone. I knew cancer was a part of your life but you were so strong that I never imagined it taking you. I remember how we joked about you being an Amazonian Woman Warrior after your mastectomy, and how well you suited the title, especially when you told me to “clear off” in your strongest British accent, when I tried to stop you from carrying my luggage. You insisted because I was still walking with my cane as a result of my back operation.
Gassing up with class!!
Lynn, I wish I could have said goodbye, and I guess this is my way of doing it. I know you would understand as you liked the web, and you were a storyteller. And, you encouraged me to be one, too.
I will, Lynn – in your honour.
My condolences go to your family. Your presence will be hugely missed. If any of them read this blog post, I hope they will realize how touched I was by you, Lynn, and that I’m just one of many.
As a last gesture, in celebration of your life, and with a fond memory of all of us belting out this song with the band at an impromptu party in Keremeos, I leave you with “Mustang Sally”… What fun we had.
With lots of love,
Trilby
(p.s. I hope you don’t mind if I still talk to you now and then about my work?)
Wheelchairs, crutches, no arms, limping bodies, eyes not seeing, distortions, hidden prosthetics, and steady smiling faces that showed light, determination, and an aching to live to the utmost.
That’s what I saw when the Paralympic Athletes, yes with a capital A, paraded before the Vancouver audience at the Opening Ceremonies.
Paralympic 2010 Opening Ceremonies, photo by Carol Browne
I wasn’t there, but instead was glued to my TV noticing that this sport event might affect me more than I anticipated, differently to the previous Olympics.
The Paralympics touch a chord. A personal chord.
First of all, I have a father who’s in a wheelchair. I have seen him over the years go from walking solo to canes, to finally a wheelchair. Concurrently, I have also seen him pursue his art with a fierce determination. I have watched how both my mother and father never gave up as a team.
Then 7 years ago, I had a back operation. Unfortunately, I had over-endured much pain and by the time I got to the operating table, my right leg was not functioning properly. I couldn’t walk afterwards. To recuperate, I did constant physiotherapy to get me from a wheelchair, walker, crutches, cane, to finally a foot brace.
The foot brace is still in my life as I have nerve damage leaving me with “drop foot” but I don’t let that stop me!
In fact, because of watching so much of the Olympics and Paralympics, I felt a stirring and decided it was time to see if I could still skate. It had been over 20 years. I used to figure skate when I was a kid, and loved it. And, in my adult life skating showed up in repetitive dreams in which I skated to perfection!
Off to a small community rink in Vancouver we went and I found myself going through motions that seemed extremely foreign, yet, very familiar.
Before skating
However, the motions on the ice were instantly UNfamiliar! “This is slippery!! How do people do this!?”. Determined to stick it out, I grabbed onto the side and didn’t let go for about 2 rounds of the rink.
By the 3rd round, I eased off my clutching. Then, I started sensing another stirring. My body seemed to be taking my head hostage and movements from my skating past were returning.
Before I knew it, my body was gliding with some power, and suddenly, it whipped around, putting me face to face with my partner who was behind me. “You’re skating BACKWARDS!” “I know!!” Gulp….
Me skating!
I may not be an Olympic or a Paralympic athlete, but in my own little world, I feel I have conquered something important. And, I want to do it again.
Thank you to all of you, especially the Paralympians, for inspiring me, and many others..
The Olympics are over, and there is a quieter feeling in Vancouver.
The red hockey shirts, hats, mitts, scarves, weird hats, costumes, shoes, maple leaves, and flags have retired to closets. The spontaneous “woohoos!” have abated. And, I admit, I miss those crazy connections with strangers, and the upbeat energy.
Something emotional and spirited took place in Vancouver during the 2010 Olympics, pleasantly catching a few of us off guard.
Post Gold Medal Men's Hockey Game!
However, with the Paralympics are around the corner, hopefully, some of that enthusiasm will re-ignite along with the flame!
2010 Olympic Flame
I had a secret pleasure in observing the freedom that occurred with many individuals, and noted that a lot of people allowed their “bouffon” to emerge and take life a wee less seriously. It was like the Olympics gave permission for people to express themselves, release, and play.
Downtown Vancouver during Olympics 2010
And, that’s what I did too. Play. I indulged in my “Canadian-ness” and got caught up in our patriotic rouge. I became the Hockey Fan I was supposed to have been when I first won my Tourism BC twitter prize. I yelled “Louuu…” every time Roberto Luongo saved a goal, and jumped up & down screaming when Sidney Crosby saved the day. (what was happening to me?).
I had pictures taken with Canadiana as if I were a tourist in my own town.
Lucky me with Canadian Mounties
Beaver Bouffons!
And, an extra special pic with Gold Medalist Skeleton Jon Montgomery!
Me & Gold Medalist Jon Montgomery!
My heart beat hard watching Joannie Rochette skate her Golden Bronze performance, I leaped off the couch as we witnessed the unexpected Gold medal snowboarding by Jasey-Jay Anderson, and the close Golden win of the men’s speed skating minutes later.
(My own Olympic moment was when I was zipped across a wire over Robson Square downtown Vancouver!! Whew!)
Watching the athletes inspired me to “go for Gold” in my art. As all the athletes were striving for their best performances, my cast in “The Memory of Water” at the Deep Cove Shaw Theatre were also enjoying sinking deeper and deeper into their work, giving audiences memorable experiences.
Just before our opening, I told myself, as I was directing, to “Go through the finish line, not up to it..” It feels good to know that’s exactly what we all did!
"The Memory of Water" First Impressons Theatre
Did the Olympics affect you in a surprising way, and are you going to embrace the Paralympics? (Personally, I think they already deserve medals for just being an athlete who has had to overcome incredible obstacles before mastering their sport.)
Olympic Inukshuk
It’s that crazy time of year, a mixed time of year. Good times, nostalgic times, stressful times, lonely times, exciting times, re-uniting times, thoughtful times, panicky times, and plain ole it’s any other day times.
What is it for you?
Each year has proven a mix of all the above, but I do remember in my far past Christmas was a time of great joy, an intimate time in my little creative family. We had a rule that we all had to make at least one gift to each other. As we created in our selected corners, and screamed, “don’t come in here”, the energy built wonderfully up until thee day. It truly was special, and I will always treasure those snowy country times.
Of course, as life goes on, things change, evolve, alter, and become not the same. And, that’s normal. (but the kid in me just wants it to always be like it was…!!!)
Prince Edward Island snowy view
This year I will spend time with my family in a very different setting but I hope we can retain a flicker of our past.
I extend my wishes to all who fall upon, read, and acknowledge my humble blog. Thank you for reading.
May you have a truly heart warming Holiday Season in whichever form you partake. Be gentle, and grateful for you, your friends, and family. And, if you are solo this year, take the time to connect with yourself, and celebrate. (and eat a chocolate)
I look forward to starting a New Year, here, and maybe meeting some of you.
Happy New Year!
It’s now December 2010 and I am resurrecting a post I did last year regarding some scarves and the PEI Humane Society. A couple new photos and an ongoing plan in time for this seasonal gift giving month! Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and all the best…
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This post may seem a bit off topic with my usual posts, but not really. It’s still all about creativity and thinking outside the box.
My mother, Joan Kempton-Jeeves, is a Fibre Artist, originally from England, and has worked cleverly and artistically in weaving, wool dying, hooking, quilting, crocheting, and knitting for many years. Her work is unconventional as she enjoys “painting with her wool”. I own many beautiful sweaters, and scarves (I’m wearing one as I write), and living in Vancouver where it’s warmer than the rest of Canada I don’t always have the chance to sport my wearable art. So when the temperature dips to a wool wearing one, I’m content!
In the past couple of years my mother has been knitting steadily with the caveat that she is “cleaning up” her wool, and producing a series of beautiful scarves. Her collection has grown steadily and makes for an impressive group.
Some of Joan's scarf collection & her wall hangings
My mother is also an animal lover, especially cats, and my family has had a few dear feline friends, all of who are now gone, and one token German Shepherd, who is also hanging out with the cats in animal heaven.
Fond memories of kittens born in our wood shed
So…where are we going, you may ask?
Well…sometimes my Mom likes to make donations to her local humane society, and visit the animals once in awhile, and she had a fabulous idea.
Remember those scarves I was mentioning? Well, my Mom would like to donate her scarves indirectly to the Prince Edward Island Humane Society (Canada). Indirectly means that she will give a scarf to anyone who donates at least 25.00 to the Society. These donations will go under the “Joan Kempton Scarf Fund”.
A closer sampling of Joan's scarves
Multi coloured scarf
Cream white scarf
That’s a pretty good deal! And, I thought it was such a good idea that I said I would help, hence, this blog post. By writing about this and encouraging those who would like to give a great present of a well-needed donation AND receive a beautiful hand knit scarf. It’s a win-win-win situation for all.
Deep Blue & Purple Scarf
What do you think?
If you are interested:
Write to me at trilby@buffooneryworkshops.com. And we’ll work out the best way to accept your donation and for you to receive your scarf, and receipt.
If you have any questions about this unique fundraiser, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I am more than happy to respond or help out, and choose a scarf!
(p.s. shipping charges are extra… but, we’ll chat)
Green & Cream Scarf
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