"Silent under the pressure of the sea” - Amanda L. Wilding

In a small row boat, in the midst of a vast ocean with no sight of land or other vessels around me, I let the waves rock me back and forth. And I stare at the surrounding blue. Where the light sky meets the darkness of the water. And it is not a graceful meeting between sky and water, but a severe contrast. As severe as emotions can be. Divided, intersected, broken by the crisp line of the horizon. By the suddenness of a passing second that can never be repeated or changed.

Art breathes existence and precious meaning into life. It keeps you rowing. Pushing through pain, disappointment, uncertainty and doubt. Ignoring the fear of tipping over. Into the unknown temperature of the blue water. Where numerous creatures live beneath the rippling surface.

And I jump. And, from one boat to another, I swim. Again and again and again. Sometimes twice in one intense day. Sometimes after the passing of several quiet months. Regardless of how tired I am, I jump. I always do. It is the only way to achieve change in our lives.

Change requires this sort of a jump. Change requires courage and faith. And you do not know how long you may tread water without the reassurance of a life jacket. And you do not know what swims around you. And you do not know when a slightly larger boat may come your way.

But a boat does float past and you lift yourself out of the water with a newfound, unknown strength and climb into the safety of your new vessel. And you wait until it is time to jump out of it again. Because that time will come.

Since I was a young girl, maybe thirteen or so, I have used this metaphor to explain the way I look at my life. And last year has been filled with a series of jumps and tiring days of treading rough water.

These waters have been filled with love affairs, friendships, excesses. The sea ebbs and flows with these moments. The waves rock us back and forth. Causing us to sleep. Or be sick. Last year, my strength to hold on did not stay constant. My pulse raced and slowed. My blood boiled. My tears came in steady, uncontrollable streams. I sobbed last year. I cursed everything I knew. I wished the most terrible things.

Several boats have been filled up with experiences that have forced me to grow. As an individual. A person. A filmmaker. A writer. A woman. A lover. An intellectual. A human being. A soul.

I aged another year. I cut my hair. I went Raw and changed my lifestyle. I started to run. I took up pilates. I broke people’s hearts and shattered their dreams. I gave other people opportunities. I started a company. I have been cheated on. I made love. I have been the player. I have hurt a man. Or two. I have gotten under the skin and buried myself beneath his veins. I have caused him to feel like he is bleeding to death from within. I have not wanted to let him leave. And he hasn’t and he has.

But these are the two most important and significant moments in 2007, as well as in my life: I experienced the beauty of finding ones artistic voice when I made “The Weight of It.” And I experienced the excruciating pain of loosing my best friend, Amanda, on December 10th, 2007.

Above all things, Amanda’s love, friendship, loyalty and the memories I have of our eight years of friendship has opened my eyes to what is important about why I am here. On Earth. In Los Angeles. In the film industry. About why I chose to move 3,000 miles away from my parents, my best friend and my other friends. About why I felt this sort of sacrifice was worth this sort of separation.

And Amanda knew where she wanted to go. We were both going to be successful writers. A few months ago, she reminded me of the time we met and I introduced myself to her: “Hi, I’m Elena. I’m a writer.” And she said she was impressed by my confidence. And I was thoroughly impressed by hers. I was always inspired by her. Of her knowledge about what boat to swim to. Of what direction to go in.

Sometimes our boats would float side by side. We would spend long hours, days, talking about the fears we had about jumping into our work. About our worth. About our abilities. About our talent. About our strength. We were exceptionally alike, her and I, although we took different paths in our lives in regards to our writing careers.

And we both have our enormous insecurities, especially in regards to our work; however, we were growing as artists. As writers. And, like myself, she knew exactly what she was about. And she never apologized for it. She never backed down. She was first and foremost a writer. She is one of the most amazing poets I have ever read.

Next to my parents, Amanda was my biggest fan. And I hers. We read each other’s work constantly. We critiqued and edited each other’s work. Since college, we had the dream of forming a modern day “Bloomsbury Group” and I still can’t imagine her absence in my personal, literary and filmmaking life. We had a mutual admiration society. We were starting a Literary and Arts Magazine together. We were going to make a place for ourselves in the Literary, Art and Film World together.

We were going to do so much more together.

The Raw Food Lifestyle

Today was my first day doing the Raw Food Lifestyle. So far, there have been a series of hits and misses in regards to food, but I do not feel unhappy about my choice in changing what I eat and drink.

I have spent a great deal of time looking up Living Raw online and have been pleasantly surprised by the number of positive thoughts that surround this way of life. Everyone seems to say, “Do it!”

A few years ago I did a three-week vegetable/juice/protein shake detox that made me feel fabulous and, after it was over, I began a very restricted way of eating that involved eating mainly nuts, seeds, fruit, vegetables, brown rice, and meat. I was walking six miles a day and had a wonderful schedule that involved waking up at 6 A.M. and journaling for a couple hours before I began my work. (I am a writer.) I was writing for about ten hours a day, with two days off a week, which I tried to keep open for strictly fun stuff.

Soon after this lifestyle began – and I call it a lifestyle, not a diet – I was then diagnosed with Celiac Disease, which restricted my diet enormously, and Candida. I went on a stricter diet that involved limiting my fruits, as well as my vegetables…

Well, that lifestyle lasted for quite some time, but I soon got derailed with personal problems and started eating badly this summer… But now I have decided to reclaim my old eating lifestyle, with some major changes to the old regiment. I am going to adopt a 100% Raw Lifestyle that will include eating seeds, nuts, fruits, veggies, and a number of other things, like superfoods. I adore sushi and I do realize that some 100% Raw people eat raw fish, but, with the oceans being as polluted as they are, I question the health benefits of one of my favorite foods.

It’s amazing how important it is to have a streamlined lifestyle in order to be a successful, happy, healthy individual. And I don’t want to use the word “restricted,” because then I am setting myself up for failure. I have so many things that I want to do with my life and I know making sure that I am healthy will help, aid, propel me forward in my work. Our bodies are our vessels, our machines, our temples, and if we don’t take care of it, we will not work the best possible way we can. If you don’t put the good gasoline in your car, it won’t work as well as if you had.

When I was shooting my film in October, I stopped doing Pilates 3 times a week and now I am going to go back to that schedule, as well as start running with Tara T, who is also going (back) on the Raw Food Lifestyle. We will support one another through our journey. We will do it at full speed and not half-assed.

I put the photograph on the top up in order to show me at the beginning of this lifestyle… Stay tuned to see how this decision affects me – physically, emotionally, mentally, psychologically – and I will keep you posted on how this decision of mine is working out for me…

Right of Passage

Experiences involving intensity, creativity, passion, growth... change you. You can blossom, like a Gladiolus, in the sun. And, of course, you can shrivel like an Autumn leaf as winter descends.

Since returning from the North (after I shot my short film) people have commented on how I have changed, especially in my confidence. Even though I have gained more weight than I care to acknowledge, I am happier than I was before we made the film. I am more secure in myself. I believe in my own talent now without any doubt in my abilities. One of the greatest things I heard since in Auburn, California, was my friend, Steve, saying that when he saw me directing, he knew that I couldn’t do anything else with my life. I belonged there. I was a natural. I had an eye. I was in my element.

When I left Los Angeles for that week, I was embarrassed whenever someone learned that I was a “director;” however, upon my return, I feel no shame in calling myself a “Director.” I believe it myself. I know I am supposed to do this. I am not lying to myself about my place in this World. I am not lying to anyone else.

I feel like I have gone out into the wild and slayed the dragon.

It's just the beginning

Deletion of Old Film Blog

As some of you might see, I just deleted the blog I had for “The Weight of It,” the short film that I am directing at the end of the month. This doesn’t mean that I am not doing the film, but rather that I wanted to start afresh.

Life lately has been about starting afresh, which sometimes comes when we end things in our lives. Lately, I have been very sidetracked by a variety of things in my life – namely a man – and it has taken my complete and total attention off my short film. And now I say to myself, and to the World, “No more.”

I have to have a list of priorities in my life and my film is number 1 (although family would quickly debunk that statement if there was an emergency.) There is so much going on with this film that I have been forced in the last week to truly focus on it. My life is starting to be controlled by it. My time is spent in front of the computer, with my ear to my phone or sitting at the kitchen table drawing storyboards.

But this is why I moved to Los Angeles. To be in the thick of it.