give too much

Marlon Brando by telephone, 1990
It is impossible to give too much–in anything. This is a myth behind which the lazy and the untalented and the stingy perpetually hide. While you can’t give too much, you can spread the gifts unwisely, without balance, and then your contributions look bad, unfocused.
I think that when you work, you give too much to the study of the part; you give too much to the rehearsal with your comrades; you give too much to the contemplation of the dreams and the fears and the traumas and the triumphs of the character; you give too much to the audiences who show up, or to the director who trains a camera on your attempts.
You always, always give too much.
It will drive you crazy at times, but the point is never going to be how you turn out, but how your work turns out; how it reaches and moves and changes people.
Give too much. Wear yourself out. Use it all up.
When you are at your most exhausted, at the edge of insanity, you are only halfway to the goal.
It’s scary, but it’s worth it, and it’s what people deserve.
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April’s pink moon

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April’s pink moon came from the herb moss pink, or wild ground phlox, which is one of the earliest widespread flowers of the spring. Other names for this month’s celestial body include the Full Sprouting Grass Moon, the Egg Moon, and among coastal tribes the Full Fish Moon, because this was the time that the shad swam upstream to spawn.

I love this. Ok, here are my Egg Moon offerings:

I let go of putrid skin.

I let go of weed-like grooves.

I let go of degradation.

I cultivate inner value.

I cultivate being held.

I cultivate upleveling.

Your turn.
Liza Fernandez

same ol’

It’s the same ol’
He said
She said
Tit for tat
Just like that
How many times
Do I have to ask
Why isn’t it done yet?

Love language
Lost in translation
All the best of intentions
The other side doesn’t get it
Just, accept things as is.

Make me feel better
Let me rest
Take the reigns
Let’s pretend
It can all go away.

Impatience taking over layers of exhaustion
The same ol’
Like a monologue on repeat
A record with no stop to it
Where did it all go?

I don’t want to go to bed like this
And it’s happened all week
Close my eyes
Dreams, sweep me
Let EscapeLand whisk me
Away
Cuz tomorrow,
Tomorrow will be better
We’ll be nicer to each other
A new page,
A new day.

Promise?

March’s Blue Moon

March Blue Moon

Double whammy this month. March is a Blue Moon, an astronomical term. Not cuz it’s blue but because either it’s either an extra full Moon that occurs in a season, or there’s a second full moon in a calendar month, hence this month’s second moon.

Ok, Beautiful Blue Moon, here goes:

I let go of what I knew.

I let go of what I deem are ‘mistakes’.

I let go of holding back.

I cultivate second chances. 

I cultivate trying again for the fun of it.

I cultivate freedom.

Your turn.
Liza Fernandez

tender

tender

Weeks, since writing.
Cause? Open heart surgery.
Recuperating is like watching hair grow.
He said many things.
She did the same.
Words, on repeat, like radio.

You don’t really know someone.. until you do.
A wakeup call.
Without warning,
We went from green to red.

I take responsibility.
For stepping over my boundaries.
I carry that mark.
Wounds, please heal fast.
I hope time is our friend, my love.

What a time to be disconnected
In this beautiful, vast cyber city.
What should be hibernation with cuddles and warm blankets
What should be hugs holding us through the night –
Is not.
Let’s see how it turns out…

Tender.
Heart. Pride. Certainty. Love.

March Full Moon

March Full Moon

Double whammy. Not only is March when the spring equinox occurs, but also because it will host two full Moons—one today and another on the 31st (just as we had two full Moons in January).

The first full Moon is traditionally called a Full Worm Moon after the earthworms that emerge at this time of year.

Ok, Earthworms Full Moon here goes:

I let go of the same-ol.

I let go of getting it right.

I let go of should’s, could’s, would’s

I cultivate space for change.

I cultivate trust, oh-trust.

I cultivate the life force of creativity.

Your turn.
Liza Fernandez

welcome

welcome

It’s the closest thing I’ve felt to death.

Birth.

5 days of labor and pushing and pain and sweat and utter exhaustion.

Birth.

Hours of almost readiness, a champ in the ring, waiting for her trophy.

Birth.

And he arrives, at a perfect Godly time with absolute intention.

Birth.

He comes uncracked, unwrinkled; life hasn’t stamped her good ol’ reality check on his skin. Not yet.

Birth.

Why do we cry? How does it crack our hearts wide open?

Birth.

We’ve all traveled this channel too. We have got to be as perfect, as divine, as uncracked?

Somewhere underneath. Right?

Clouds hiding the sun, type of shit. Right?

A son. A nephew. A gift.

Welcome.