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If Time and Money were free…

17 Jan


Galaxy

If time and money were free, what would i be doing right now? writing. singing. loving. laughing. hugging my son. hugging my husband. running on the beach. swimming in the warm pacific waters. reading a book as I absorb the heat and enlightening rays of sunshine.  giving thanks for all that is.  reverence.  smiling. expanding. telling a story.  whispering words of love in all the ears of the world. healing. freeing my self. fulfilling my destiny.

a ripple of golden solitude rolls beneath my feet.  i stand in an ocean of gold.  i hold your tiny hand.  you use to hold mine when i was little.  but i am grown.  not only in size, but in spirit.  it is my turn to lead.  to guide you.  i listen for your words, dear angel.  what is your name?

you send me a sound  i can not make out.  there are many.  and in a wave, i return.  as you said, sweet child of mine.  gold is everywhere.  gold blankets our being.  the rainbow we saw is forever imprinted on our lives.  the rainbow we chased.  we found.  the rainbow gave us a gift.  the gift is a pot of gold.  it’s a metaphor for our souls.  a multitude of dimension.  i look up and out and i see your presence in the swiftly moving clouds, edges capturing the setting sun.  shadow defines the light. we must integrate. become one. dark and light.

i saw a swirl of golden mist.  how can i explain.  layers and wisps of swirling golden light.  a galaxy, a universe hangs in front of me.  i stand in the hallway and turn toward it.  it is only there for a moment.  but i see.  i see because i should.  i can.  i need to.  this is yet another step in my quest.  my journey for clarity.  revelation. freedom. love.

most of my powers reveal in dream.  but now they integrate and i am awakening.  i watch the newly budding orchid in the shower.  i await it’s bloom.  when it opens.  i will be there.  it will be constant.  true.  reality.  at times,  i am so anxious.  so impatient.  i don’t mean to be.  curiosity and hope.  i have been a loyal servant.  i have stared within.  i have circled my experiences.  anger and loss have lifted.  not just in concept but in heart.  now i am grateful for the love.  the love they gave.  the love i gave to myself.  the love i will continue to give to all.

i am a beacon. i share this message.

because, today, time and money are free.

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I intend…

29 Mar

I intend.  I intend.  I intend.  I believe in my intuitive abilities.  I alone create my reality.  I am creator.  My reason for living is to evolve creatively and spiritually, and to bring light and understanding to this world, my world, this layer of reality that I am presently existing within.  These are concepts I’ve been exploring in efforts to become effective and complete.  All of these ideas will come.  I understand that they must come effortlessly, fluidly, naturally.  I am opening, like petals of a flower, organic and true.  I am listening.  I am watching.  I am still.

My dreams whisper a story, my story.  Like a sweet child’s breath, my ear tingles and I know the words.  Where is this place?  What shall I do?  Please guide me.

Thank you.

I recently read “The Bringers of the Dawn” a book by Barbara Marciniak.  It was written in the early 1990s.  Many of the concepts are far out.  But I found the book to be a beacon.  A route to self-discovery.  A spark.  A support.  And a welcome tool full of encouragement to think freely.  To own your actions.  To take back power.  To break free of one’s accepted concepts and unchallenged, core fundamentals.  And to suspend thought long enough…  To fly.  To float.  To fall.  To awaken.  To rise.  To recreate.

There are many moments, images, memories or projections that I remember.  That I have carried with me on my journey.  Sometimes it’s a smell, a feel, a flicker of light or a sense.  Some have been with me since I was a child.  Others have accumulated with my experiences.  Until now, I have guessed at their meaning.  The sun beaming through me.  My feet in the cool wet sand.  I am young.  And I’m holding someone’s hand.  I’m enveloped and it’s gone.  Sometimes there’s no visual, just the sense of that moment.  A smell of the salt in the ocean air.  The warmth and protection.  The love.

I dream things that happen in my life before they happen.  I call that Deja Vu.  And when I get these feelings or Deja Vu, I have come to accept it as a sign that I’m taking the right path.  I’m going in the right direction.  This has been a comfort.  The only real way to check myself.  But then I read “Bringers” and at a crucial moment in the book, all of these seemingly random events collided and strung together like DNA connecting into a helix.  The gravity of a thought catapulted me through time, collapsing sheets of dimensions into one.  Could it be that this book was written for me?  Dawn?  Taking all of these multitudes of people, passing the book from person to person, until it finally reached me?  Until the moment in time when I might be receptive to the concept?  Using all of the words that I use, that speak directly to my sense of self?  Willing it.  Remembering that I am a renegade.  I am here to to break the system.  To bring the dawn.  To ground the message.  A tidal wave of light that will bring enlightenment, finally, and destruction of old ideologies.  We have all been working on this. I am not that ego-centric.  But my role is in the last chapter.  And now I am the main character.  And those memories and unplaceable experiences that have floated just out of reach of my comprehension have meaning.  Grave meaning.  Being born with all of the knowledge.  Only needing the understanding that I must trust myself.  My four year-old voice “No regrets.”  My six year-old voice, “Mom, the magic is gone.”  Born a healer.  A self-proclaimed old soul.  “This will be my last life, ” thinks the two year-old.  This is why Peter killed himself.  This is why Grandpa Jack died.  All soldiers.  Bringing.

My son was to be named Orion.  I was to be named Dawn.  This is our disguise.  Hurdles.  Thwarted.  Almost lost.  And one book.  Many voices channelled by one.  This is my journey.  This is why I am here.  I am a renegade.  I am Dawn.

—Real thoughts by Leigh Stimolo ©2012 and the beginning of my next creative work.  Novel or screenplay?  Still to be decided.

Transformation. He’s a She.

9 Jan

Recently, I had a deadline to write two short films and direct/produce one of them.  So I wanted to pick something, short and transformative.  I started writing a voice over (VO) of my own personal experience from when I was a kid, part of my story.   After recording the VO a few times, playing with some vocal effects and subsequently shooting myself as the main character, I grappled with a few different ideas to give it some life.  I created both a deep man’s voice filter and a high-pitched voice box filter.  One version of the piece was to make it about a  woman who’s in a wheelchair and lost her voice box.  Her small nephew comes to visit her and she gives him some words of wisdom through a story of her childhood fantasy of being Jesus Christ.  Great idea.  So many things I could juxtapose poetically revealing other layers of the character.  But I had less than a week to shoot, no time, no actors (especially no child actors, specifically six-year old girls), no one to shoot it, edit it or score it… except for myself.  Oh yeah, and no wheelchair.  I could fake one of those mechanical larynx things with part of a microphone I own… but argh!

Then there was the idea of making an on-camera transformation.  Where the VO was just this girl getting ready in the morning and putting on makeup.  By the end, she’s transgender.  I knew I wanted to be able to direct that character.  I definitely didn’t want to shoot it and be the lead.  So I went to my office mate and writing buddy, Haley.  And she willingly obliged.  I bought props at Target.  Loaded my extremely heavy equipment and headed to Bay Village.  When I got there, I was a bit unsure of how this would play out.  If you asked Haley, I’m sure she’d attest to me being frazzled.  I didn’t bring enough quarters for the meter.  The meter ran out anyway at 5pm.  Yada yada.  But, with some diet coke and a few smokes later for Haley.  I found my rhythm.  I just cleared my head of doubt and trusted myself.  Some ideas I had, flashback cutaways from childhood and adding one of those glue-on hair mustaches at the end, weren’t coming together.   The mustache wasn’t right.  It wasn’t believable enough. But, as the day flew by those ideas quickly resolved and I was editing already on set.  Haley took awesome direction and really jumped in 100%.  I couldn’t have asked for more.  So I wanted to share some pictures because Haley, who played Josephine (Joe) in Transformation, really looks cool.  Check her out.

Joe gets ready in the morning.

Josephine makes a beard.

So what have I learned?  Sometimes, you’ve gotta just push through.  And that I’m thankful for having adventurous and supportive friends.

She talks to Angels

20 Sep

I’ve been on a path of self-discovery, a path that I’ve followed like Alice in Wonderland down the rabbit hole.  It started last spring or maybe earlier.  It spawned from feeling of being trapped in daily life and out of the need to find peace, happiness, and abundance.  That said, I gave credence to this open-ended search by also following different story ideas for my next screenplay.  At first it was background for “Death: the study of Dying”, a feature fiction screenplay about a quirky, trust-fund baby who has it all but lives in fear.  Fear of dying.  So she sets out and joins every spiritual, yoga, mediation class she can.  In the end the character, after a near death experience, finds her answer.  Another screenplay idea I’m working on is “Fight the Bear” about a girl, Jenny, who has done the right thing all her life, yet still hasn’t reaped any karmic rewards for being good.  So she decides to make her own destiny and fight her way to success.  Then there is my baby, “Repent”.  This one is also a story of exploration.  It begins with the main character pleading with God to give her another chance, a chance to get her life right.  God concedes and Bethea is sent rushing down to earth. She is reborn. We catch up with her on the eve of her 40th birthday.  She’s made wrong choices, picked the wrong guys and still hasn’t fulfilled her promise of spiritual commitment to God.  Plagued by increasing incidents with Deja Vu, night visions, intuitive coincidences, Bethea goes to a psychic for answers.  The psychic tells her that she’s had a guardian angel by her side the entire time. This starts her on her journey toward uncovering her fragile beginning and to remembering that this is her last shot at getting life right or else.

Art, creation, time, life, these are themes looping through my mind. Depending on the day, I am in triumph, full of hope.  Only to waken to the reality of my daily existence.  One without awe.  Without inspiration.  But I must will it.  I must believe it.  I must tear my way forward.  To give and to receive.  Last week I was up.  I wrote, “All things needed to move forward are converging like tiny streams to a river. Rushing and pushing me toward the glorious pool that is my destiny”.  My buddy gave me a hard time with a comment on whether it was my idea of being in the “right dimension” or is this something different.  To which I retorted, “All things are pointing to go. Whether it’s described as living in the ultimate dimension, fulfillment of ‘pre-destined’ mission in life, realizing full potential, strength-based leadership, balancing your chakras, mindful living, meditation, visualization… it’s the same message and I am listening”.  And thus, this is where I am today.  Listening, keeping an eye open for a sign, yet moving forward toward my goal.  Writing.  Thinking. Writing about writing. Living. Loving…

fit to be writing/game on

16 Sep

So, here it goes folks.  The latest and greatest idea.  To write.  In the here.  In the now.  This is me writing.

Firstly, I am determined to create a television series, worthy of Dexter and Breaking Bad. The characters already live, Rian Pedde and Penny Jones.  Better yet, the feature film already lives, Suckerpunch.  No, not the slickly produced but crappily written 2010 film.  BTW- I came up with that name before they did.  But not before the folks who also penned “Sucker Punch” screenplays in 2003, 2007, 2008, 2009.  Okay, it’s a popular name. INSTEAD, this screenplay is a character driven, vigilante, drama about a new mother and a party girl who take their coworker relationship to new heights when they experiment with the edges of danger (to semi-quote the coverage we received from Slamdance Screenplay Competition 2011.  oh, yeah, we didn’t win).  That’s right, danger.  These girls are mad as hell and they’re not gonna take it anymore.  Plus they look like the average Jane so they can get away with murder… or can they.  This Suckerpunch, was written by myself and one, Haley Hemen, 2010.  And it’s gotten some good coverage, won a table read, and made it to the semi-finals in the Script/Pitch Competition for Nextventertainment.  And undoubtedly needs to be condensed, reworked, and just may fit nicely into the episodic rockin’ television series category… to be shopped to AMC, Showtime, HBO.  So it’s out there.  In the universe.  Now let’s go to it.

This post is actually a long time coming.  It was a response to an earlier post that Haley wrote… and then was saved and almost forgotten.  But not so, dear friends.   Here it is.  Fit to be writing.  And the real meat of what’s been plaguing my self-help, seeking person is to come.  It’s a long strange trip to peaceful and happy, nomatter what self-centered a-hole you run into.  See you in a few. wink.

the eye of the storm

29 Aug

i actually drove towards the eye of irene only hours before it hit niantic, ct.  yes, drove at it.  in the driving rain (no pun intended).  slamming on breaks when the folks ahead were too scared to guess at staying on the highway.  since you couldn’t see squat.  20 mph? let’s try 50, 60 or even 70, people.  i can squint and see moments of the white line or sometimes the yellow.  HOLD THAT THOUGHT.

let me back track.  i live seven houses from the ocean in a quaint little beach community (minus a few hell-beast neighbors, stacy, loud mouth next door, you know who you are) called Point of Pines.  so when i hear we’re due for an ocean surge and sure-fire flooding (not to mention winds upwards of 75 mph) i’m pulling everything off the floor in the basement, moving important furniture and sundries upstairs, and dragging every toy and lawn furniture indoors.  where is my husband you ask?  can’t wait for him.  it all has to happen now! i’m a doer.

anyhoo.  my little angel was with grandma and baba and i had to go rescue him from the imminent danger of irene in ct.  plus, i was gonna pick him up saturday anyway. talk about white knuckling it.  so pick up goes fine.  big d sleeps through the sweaty drive home and then we hunker down for the storm… oh yeah and jakie and charlie come to watch pirate movies and Rio.  hot dogs and fun for all.  then wait for the storm. the storm?  hello, irene?  oh well.  just another storm that i rearranged my life around. that’s what happens when you live by the ocean and are a perfectionist (and believe the hype that only TV and weather dudes/dudettes can deliver).

Oh Sun

17 Aug

Oh Sun. Shine, shine all over me. Heal me. Refresh me. Awaken to this day and all of its splendor.  For I am the breath of life.  And you are in me.  Around me.  And forever my friend.  I bow to you.  I thank you.  And in turn, I thank myself. And you, Fernando.  Thank you for opening my eyes and telling me I am the breath of life.  I will hold this thought through out my day.