Dear Oprah,

Dear Oprah,

I know I've mentioned before but I have two friends for whom one, at the beginning of the day, I set an intention with and another for which at the end of the day we write 5 things for which we are grateful for. This is a great practice. Sometimes, I reach for things I want to keep myself in tune with throughout the day and things I am grateful for at the end of the day.

Sometimes it is effortless. Sometimes, it's like doing a paper or book report at the 11th hour and having nothing to say, I have to find...something.

Everyday is different and every day has it's set of inspiration and setbacks.

Today, I have not much to share or say. I'm not much inspired or set back. I just am.

I'm not one to just be and certainly never bored. But today, I did my job, did my work, had some fun, enjoyed my life and didn't. I did, I was and I came home.

I blog often. Mostly with something to say. Today, I think it's interesting. Because, I haven't much to say. And even with that, I think it's important to share that even the most uneventful day can be something to report.

There was nothing today that would make the papers, even if I were a celebrity.

There are people in my life that are often mystified by how I spend my time. They know that I am on the road, to and from classes, private sessions, auditions, a lunch with a friend, a workout. This is my life. Today, it is uneventful.

I worked. And my students inspire me, continuously, and then I move on, as they do, to the next thing. I am high, and then I am low. Then I am.

I shared with a friend today about how I went running on the beach.

It was flat sand, clear skies, crisp cool fall air in Santa Monica. I was listening to a new album, by One Eskimo. It was bliss. I said inside myself, this is perfect. This is life in perfection. This is all I need. This is bliss.

And I thought, I had a full day of work, teaching, an audition, a lunch with an old friend I haven't seen in many years.

I come home to perfection. My new cat. Order. Things to do, but nothing pressing.

I am.

I BE.

And I feel....

So...alone and sad.

This is nothing to be quite sad about. This is just, what it is. You can't help what you feel. And so it is written.

The friend I met with, I discussed some things, one of which included the passing of my dad just two months ago. It was the first time I talked about it and didn't get emotional.

That was good, for me.

And yet, I feel, I am not done. Whatever is happening is not done.

Perhaps it's mourning. Perhaps it's simply the transition of seasons.

Many people I speak with now are feeling that sort of melancholy feeling of sadness.

If you lived on the east coast, you'd have a reason...you would see it.

The passing of summer to fall is a passing. It's a death. It's a moving on.

The trees shed. Leaves fall and die. Earth prepares as we do for hibernation if you will in order for it to grow and transcend.

We don't see it so much on the west coast but we feel it as much as the earth beneath us and our surrounding beg for transition. We feel it and sense it and prepare for it.

We are, shedding. Letting go and letting time pass around us so that we can continue to grow in the way that we need to.

When we see it on the east coast, it is an allowance, a permission to feel the same. Fashion magazines prepare us with the happiness of new clothes and colors we can wear.

On the west coast, we can do the same but we are truly, less prepared. We might have a cold day of 60 degrees and we can wear tights and knee high boots, then drive to the valley and it's a hot 80 degrees. Tights aren't workin' and flip-flops just feel sad. We are blessed with sunshine year round, but it can mess with our internal messages that tell us to shed, hide, layer! Shed time and seasons, experiences and emotions, turn inward and contemplate as we transition to wintertime.

We are lucky, I don't deny. But there is little room for us to allow ourselves in such beauty, to retreat. To turn orange and red, to fall and turn inwards. To retreat and contemplate. To wear tights and feel blue.

I named my cat Lady Nyla.

It was hard for me to commit to a name for my cat. I knew that it was difficult for me to even commit to owning a cat. Even saying I own a cat seems weird. 'Cause I feel like she owns me. All I know is that I'm committed now. I thought to myself the other day, I will have this cat when I'm in my 40's, when I'm married, if I have a kid. The thought of having anything last that long, scared the crap out of me. I haven't done anything that long.

She really likes Lady Gaga. She also likes Miley Cyrus. But I love NY and LA and my heart is in both places and now this little kitty soul, so, Lady NYLA.

I think that might be why I'm a bit melancholy. That and the above.

I don't know why and then I do. I have nothing to complain about but there is always something to complain about.

I have my cat, my health, and a great job in a continuously unstable economy.

And, I am sad.

In a time where most people become a bit sad and it is very common, I am not alone.

But I live in LA, where there is no excuse to be sad.

So I write, where there is always an excuse to feel any way I want.

And I set my intention at the beginning of each day and my gratitude list at the end of the day.

I have great friends I can do this with.

And a great life.

And I can still feel down and alone.

But I feel. And for that, I am happy...and sad.

So there. Be thankful Oprah, because I called my cat Oprah for a couple of days, then I thought it would be a conflict of interest. I didn't want people to think I was writing my cat everyday. That would be weird. But writing you everyday...not weird at all.

LOL.

I blog. And it is written.

Be happy or sad. It is time to be whatever you would like and no one will give you a hard time.

Because the air around you and the leaves and the trees, they all feel the same. And the people, they do to.

But if you don the right trench and belted LBD, all is right in the world. You are of the time. And the time is changing before our eyes.

Blessed,

Laurie

Dear Oprah,