Friday, September 27, 2013

examples of an effort to avoid frustration by being creative



About a year ago, I was in one of my bouts of anxiety and depression.  Not severe enough to warrant pharmaceuticals, and yet persistent enough to stifle me from doing the things I know I should have been doing.  I became "conscious" enough for a moment to make a decision.  CHOOSE A DIFFERENT RESPONSE.  Do something differently.  I had a large stack of magazines and I told myself, look through them, and each time you find the word "love," cut it out.  Admittedly, its a lot easier to find the word "LOVE" when you look through "Oprah" magazine or even "Vanity Fair" than you will looking through "GQ" but its there.  I ended up with quite a collection.  Then I asked myself, "now what?"  So I went back through all of the magazines and cut out pictures of flowers, balloons, candles, hearts, and other words like "happy" and "joy."  Then I found a piece of poster board, grabbed some glue and set to work just putting it all out there.  I worked non stop for a few hours and ended up with something that I was pretty proud of, as far as exercises in avoiding frustration go.  I even had it framed.  I kept the box of cut outs that were left and a few months later, I repeated the exercise.  It became cathartic as well as allowing my mind to be semi-focused on a task that allowed the creativity in me to come to the surface.  And thats the important part.  I needed to get out of my cycle of inner monologue and be able to really hear the whispers of my own creative impulses.  Its helped me quite a bit since then.  And it doesn't hurt to realize that all you need to do is LOOK for "love" to find it.  The last of these projects I did featured none other than Oprah Winfrey herself, along with her mantra "Live your best life."  Its worth repeating.




Monday, July 22, 2013

a story for sharing....



This post is a children's story I wrote inspired by some of the conversations I have had with my nieces.  I am hopeful to have it published.  (ANYONE who has contacts with literary agents, children's book publishers, graphics artists and illustrators, PLEASE feel free to share!)  And as always, I appreciate your feedback!  The artwork included is something I put together for creative inspiration.


The More You Get, the More You Get
(copyright 2012 by Brian Todd Barnette)

Once there was a young prince who had everything.  Whenever he wanted or needed anything, anything at all, there was a team around him who would rush to happily assist him.  All he had to do was ask, and the team of helpers would figure out a way to make it happen.  The Prince was a nice guy, so his team never minded helping him. For the Prince, it was a great way to live.

A very special birthday was coming up for the Prince and he was thinking about what he wanted.   He knew he wanted something REALLY special.  He wanted something that he would think was THE BEST GIFT in the world.  What could that be?

To find out, the Prince sent out a request to his team.  

“Find me the BEST GIFT!  The BEST GIFT in the world!” The Prince had called a meeting and issued a proclamation.

The Prince’s team was excited.  Whoever helped to find the BEST GIFT was sure to win favor with the Prince.  That would probably mean a promotion!  The castle began to buzz with activity and planning.  Experts were sought to find out what was considered THE BEST that the kingdom had to offer.  And they would present the gifts to the Prince at the start of a week of festivities to celebrate the Prince’s birthday.

As the birthday week approached, the Prince became really excited!  How great would this week be?  Surely his team knew him and knew what he would enjoy, and if asked for THE BEST GIFT in the world, they would find it!

The whole kingdom was filled with anticipation.  They loved the Prince and were happy to help him celebrate.  It meant a lot of work, but they took pride in it.  And if the Prince was happy, that made them feel good too.  The day that the celebration was to start, all the loyal subjects had cleaned the castle extra well and had put up extra special decorations.  The whole crowd was ready!

The first to showcase the gifts were artists.  They brought paintings and collages.  They brought mobiles and sculptures.  The whole castle was filled with art of all kinds.  It was all so spectacular!  The Prince thought this was a great start!  He had never been so impressed before by such wonderful art!




The next to give their gifts were florists and landscapers.  They had created such amazing bouquets of flowers, and even landscaped the castle grounds with topiaries and gardens bursting with color!  It was all so spectacular!  Such pride and care had been taken to please the Prince.  And the Prince was very pleased!  So far so good!  



Then came the musicians. All manner of ensembles from trios to orchestras, choral groups and choirs, singers and players of every kind of instrument you could imagine!  To make it even better was that there were dancers performing to all of the great music.  It was all so spectacular!  No matter where he turned, the Prince was surrounded by musicians, singers and dancers all celebrating!  He felt even more excitement than he could have imagined.

Just when the Prince didn’t think the celebration could get any better, the chefs and cooks of the kingdom brought in every type of appetizing treat he could dream of.  Platters of the finest cheeses, breads and fruits with cream and honey, pastries, cakes and pies, cookies and more and more!  It was all so spectacular!  So many treats, many iced and decorated and all of it so delicious!  The Prince felt like he could fly!  So far, this was the best celebration ever!

The Prince’s team was also very happy.  They just knew that one of these gifts would be considered the BEST GIFT and the Prince would lavish them with praise.  It was a job well done.  They decided to ask him what he thought was the BEST GIFT?

So the team went to the Prince’s Royal Assistant.

“Has the Prince decided yet what he thinks is the BEST GIFT ever?”  They could hardly wait to find out.  So the Royal Assistant went to the Prince.

“Your Highness, you have such dedicated subjects.”  The Royal Assistant said to the Prince.  “They all tried to outdo themselves to find the BEST GIFT for you.  They have presented you with so many great gifts!  What do you feel is the BEST GIFT?”  The Royal Assistant was ready to make the declaration and continue the celebration.

The Prince was deep in thought.  The kingdom had indeed pulled out all the stops and brought together so many unbelievably talented artists, and performers and professionals to help him celebrate and find the BEST GIFT in the world.  But he couldn’t decide.  How could he possibly choose just one of these gifts?  What was he to do?  He made a decision.

“I need help.”  He declared to his team.  “For the rest of the week, we will invite all of the Royal subjects of the kingdom to come and look at the art, walk through the gardens, listen to all the musicians and watch the performers and finally taste all of the wonderful treats.  Then they will all vote, and I will truly have found the BEST GIFT in the world.  I will make a formal declaration and reward the winner!”  The Prince was happy to have help in making such a difficult decision.

“So be it!”  The Prince’s Royal Assistant then invited all of the subjects of the kingdom to come to the castle and see the art.  They walked through the gardens and enjoyed the grounds.  The musicians played beautiful music and the singers sang such beautiful songs.  The dancers and performers put on such a wonderful show.  Then the whole kingdom sat together to enjoy the most delicious treats that they had ever eaten.  They had all come together to help celebrate with their beloved Prince and they had never had so much fun.

When the week was coming to a close, the Prince’s Royal Assistant asked each member of the kingdom what they thought had been the BEST GIFT.  But none of the members of the kingdom could decide.  If one chose the flowers, then another chose the music.  If one liked the treats the best, then another liked the art.  There were so many great choices.  The Royal Assistant was getting a little worried.  The Prince would still have to make up his mind all on his own!

Just as the last of the royal subjects was giving their opinion, a small girl from the kingdom asked to speak with the Prince.  She had one more thing to give to him.  The Royal Assistant was happy to have another moment to delay telling the Prince that no clear winner had been declared.  He took the little girl into the main hall and presented her to the Prince.

The little girl walked up to the Prince, and she curtsied her best curtsy.  “Yes, my little lady, what did you have for me?” The Prince smiled at her.

The little girl threw her arms around the Prince in a big hug and simply said “Thank you.”

The Prince was astounded.  “Why are you thanking me?” he asked.

“Simple.  You shared all of your wonderful gifts with us.  This was the best party I have ever been to.”  The little girl had actually never been to a party before, but that didn’t matter.  It had been the best party.  The entire kingdom had come together and enjoyed spending time with their beloved Prince and with each other.  They had all happily tried to find the BEST GIFT for the Prince.  And the Prince had happily decided to share all of the great gifts with his kingdom and he had valued their input.

The Prince was so happy he thought he would cry.  He decided right then and there what the BEST GIFT was.  He learned that sometimes, the BEST GIFT in the world was the one you GIVE.

For the Prince, it was a great way to live.



Notes on GIVING;
No one is saying that it isn’t nice to receive.  Everyone loves to get gifts!  And they should.  It means that people are thinking about you, they like you and they want you to be happy.  That’s a great thing.  When people do give you gifts, receive them with a happy heart, be grateful, and say “THANK YOU.”  It will make the person who gives the gift feel joy as well.  That is important too.  It feels good to give, especially when we give to those that we love.  The happiness goes both ways.  It feels good to see other people happy when they know we care about them.  It is important to be a joyful giver of gifts and a gracious receiver of gifts.   Next time you feel a little down and need to feel good, consider doing something nice for someone.  Give them the gift of your love and attention.  You get the gift of feeling good too!  That’s a great way to live!

Sunday, April 21, 2013

an ongoing work....








I have learned so much lately about professionalism, who I can and cannot trust, and what my desire is as a creative individual. Of course there is MUCH left to learn. But I hope that my gratitude outweighs any residual bitterness or feelings of betrayal. Life is just too beautiful. I have begun substitute teaching back in the town in which I grew up and went to school myself, for most of my life. Its an education in itself for ME. So many beautiful kids, so much potential. Each with their own pace, their own struggle, and their own gifts to give. I hope they each find someone in their lives who truly believes in them and offers support and encouragement. Before I venture off on a tangent, the idea behind this post is from the first screenplay that I tried to write. It was a short script I wrote as an exercise for someone I met through a "film maker" conversation. It was produced and actually went to the showcase at the 2012 Cannes International Film Festival. I can still barely believe it. While the director changed a few elements and added a few of his own (naturally) the basic part of the story remained. The idea is that someone has died and stands before three spirits who represent his idea of the Trinity. He feels, according to how he lived and believed, that he is to be judged. That is his expectation. No such judgement is being offered, more a review of his life. Yet, he believes, as he lived, under judgement. It is an idea he cannot release. I reflect on the meaning I was trying to convey today. How do I live? How do I view the world? How do I see my actions within the world? Do I feel the need to justify my actions? Am I being judged?




The resulting short film made from my script continues to tour Film Festivals around the world, recently the Greek and Cyprus festivals. I remain grateful for my words becoming actualized by someone's vision. I am posting the original version that was my script. I hope you enjoy it. Let me know. No judgment. (NOTE: the formatting did not copy well, so please forgive the layout.)








Canonize Me


By
Brian Todd Barnette


Copyright 2011 by BRIAN TODD BARNETTE


open on various vistas of sun-lit clouds.
 narrator VO
 There is an ancient story of the most beautiful prayer. A learned man was traveling into the city and he passed by a poor man. The poor man was muttering with his eyes closed and his head lowered in prayer. The learned man rides on. On another visit to the city, he passes the same poor man again and again hears him muttering in prayer but this time he makes out what the man is saying. The poor man is reciting the alphabet over and over. "You there," the learned man says to the poor man. "What is it you are doing?" The poor man replies, "oh, please forgive me. I am not an educated man and I do not know the prayers that you must know. I recite the alphabet and I ask that the Lord rearrange the letters into the words that He finds pleasing." At this the learned man scoffs and feels in his heart a feeling of disdain for the poor man. Immediately an Angel of the Lord appears and addresses the learned man. "From this day on, YOUR prayers will no longer be heard in Heaven, for it is this prayer, the prayer of the most sincere that we find pleasing and sings in the heart of the Lord your God." The learned man is left humbled. For it was the intention of the poor man to please the Lord that rang the bells of Heaven.

increasing light from out of frame results in total wash out of scene; 

 fade to black
 fade in
 interior - all white room - 

POV of man opening his eyes. 

 There are muffled voices and all we can see is total darkness with silhouetted figures. There are three figures in the room, walking slowly back and forth and they are each backlit by a single color of light, one is red, one is blue and the other yellow. 

 Holly (to the others in the room) 
I think we have him. (to the man) George? 

 fade to black

fade in
interior - dark room - no particular time - 

 Small dark room with no detail except a table and a chair on one side which faces three chairs on the other. George Goodman sits on one side of the table. Beside him is a leather briefcase. He sits facing the three figures back-lit by the primary colors. Back-lit in red is what looks to be a tall woman with long hair but is very obviously male wearing woman's clothing, this is Holly. Next to Holly back-lit in yellow is a young woman, Martha, pretty but plain and holding what appears to be a baby wrapped in a blanket. Martha is rocking and patting the infant though we do not see or hear it. Seated next to Martha is a very shabbily dressed man, mid to late 50's in age, who has the appearance of a "homeless" person, slightly dirty, ragged clothes including a military jacket with the name "Emmanuel" on it. He is back-lit in blue light. This is Jésus. 

 Holly 
 George, there is great love here for you. Are you aware of that?

 George Goodman looks slowly and drowsily from one to the other. 

 George 
 What's this? Am I dead? 

 Holly
 Dead? That's not for us to say. You are no longer among the physical. But you are still in a state of what we call "separation." This is not part of your physical experience but you have yet to make a transition. 

 George appears weary and lets out a sigh. 

The young woman, Martha, holding the infant does not look up and he has yet to meet her eyes. Jésus has a look of total calm and regards George with a soft and easy expression on his face. 

 Holly 
 You still have a simple consciousness. Some things may take a moment to understand. 

 George 
 Am I to be judged? I was a good man, I was practically a Saint in my life. Surely that must be evident.  

Holly has a slight smile. 

 Holly 
 Judged? No. The idea of "Counselor" may be appropriate. We must decide what happens next. The next step. Next in time. That is up to you. 

 George 
 And who are you then? You seem familiar as if I should know your names. What do I call you? What is the last thing I can recall? 

 Holly 
 What do you recall? Where were you before you were here? 

 George 
 I'm not certain. There seemed to be a large crowd and a lot of noise. 

 Behind George a six-paned window appears and on it a scene exterior - civic park setting - daytime - southern town George is giving a speech. The sound is muffled and unintelligible to us. He is at a podium on a lawn with a crowd standing around him, in the near background a municipal building. The crowd is a mix of people who periodically clap during the speech. Flanking George are men in suits and ties. Clean cut, wearing "campaign" style buttons. We understand that this is a rally or political "meet and greet" of some kind. There is the sound of gunfire and then screams. 

 Window scene goes black. 
 interior - same small room - continuous 

 Holly 
 Is that the last thing you recall? 

 George 
 No. There is something else. I can smell disinfectant. I hear engines and traffic. Something smells burned as well. It feels crowded. Someone is yelling.

 The scene in the window changes 
 interior - ambulance - daytime 

 POV of George looking up as several EMT's are working feverishly over him. The siren wails and the EMT's shout directions back and forth. We can see a bloody shirt being cut off and pulled to the side and just below POV we can tell George is wearing an oxygen mask. One of the EMT's is putting an IV in George's arm. 

 The window scene fades out. 

 INTERIOR - SAME SMALL ROOM - CONTINUOUS

 George looks at Jésus. 

 George (to Jésus) 
Do you not talk? 

 Holly and Jésus exchange a look. Martha does not look up but continues to gently rock and pat the infant. 

 George 
 And what about her? (motioning to Martha) Does anyone else talk to me here? 

 Holly 
 Now isn't the time for frustration or for being angry. They have actually tried
many times to talk with you. Let us do what it is we need to so that a decision
can be made. You will be given all the information you need. Call me Holly, I can counsel you. Jésus will guide you as well. Martha cannot look directly upon you and speaks to you through us.

 George (in a quiet voice) 
Why does that make sense? Where have I been told that before? 

 Holly 
 You made the statement that you lived the "life of a saint." What do you mean by that? 

 George 
 If I am no longer in physical form, it must be that I am no longer "living." I
think I was shot. I don't think I survived it. I thought that after we die, we
are judged for our lives. I am certain I was an honorable and just man. I feel as if I am to be jedged then I need to say that I know I was a good man. 

 Jésus 
 Can you explain? 

 George is surprised by the sudden involvement of Jésus and turns to address him
directly. 

 George 
 Well, foremost, I treated everyone I met with compassion and respect. I was awarded for it on many occasions in my life. Humanitarian awards, special recognition for working with non-profits, donations to my church and to the community... 

 Holly 
 Ah, yes. The George Goodman legacy. You raised money for several organizations
and helped champion the scholarship for a school. The "George Goodman" Academic
Achievement Scholarship for your Alma Mater. I believe you insisted on naming it after yourself and also being able to have first right of refusal on any new products created by the participants when developing their senior projects. Did you not end up making more money by having an authorship rider on the patents created over the years? More money than all the endowments you made in sum
total? 

 George
 It takes money to make money. That program created several civic leaders and
leaders of industry for the city. It created jobs and kept people working. 

 Holly
 I am sure you can justify it. But lets talk more about the manner in which you treated others. Do you recall what you would tell friends and co-workers about those who pan handled or begged in the streets? 

 George 
 Well, I supported soup kitchens as well. And homeless shelters. 

 George has a flash of recognition. He looks at Jésus with wide eyes. 

 George 
 You! I remember you! You stood outside of the homeless shelter and wouldn't come in. This was years ago. You refused to go inside to get anything to eat or seek shelter. It was cold that year. 

 Another scene plays in the window of Jésus outside of a big brick building. exterior - dirty city street - daytime - date undetermined Jésus is having an exchange with a man in a suit that we only see from the back. Jésus is obviously bundled up against the cold. He is smiling but shaking his head nervously. He reaches out to take the hand of the man in the suit who recoils and pulls away. 

 The window scene fades out.
 INTERIOR - SAME SMALL ROOM - CONTINUOUS

 George 
 I remember you asked me to just go inside and bring out something for you to eat. I recall that it made me feel a bit angry. There was help for you just inside. All you had to do was walk in! 

 Jésus 
Do you recall what you did? What you thought? What did you tell others about that exchange? 

 George hangs his head a bit sheepishly, as if the memory now fills him with a bit of guilt. 

George 
 Well, what I remember is feeling indignant. As if all that we did was still somehow not enough for you. I didn't understand why you wouldn't just go inside. Some part of me wanted to drag you inside. I feel shame now, but I was mad at you. I told my colleagues that some people were beyond helping. I know that isn't so. It was my pride saying that. 

 Jésus 
 Do you recall what you said to me under your breath? 

 George (voice cracking)
 I said "so starve." 

 Jésus 
 There is an old proverb. "True charity sees the need, not the cause." The man you met that day, the man I seem to you, was a war vet. He was suffering from a post-traumatic stress. He found it almost impossible to go into strange buildings. He had seen several of his fellow troops ambushed once and they were all killed. He himself barely survived. He had been left for dead. Upon his return to 
civilian life, he was never able to accept the help that had been offered him. He only found help at alocal church that had to close after a fire. He lost his only refuge. And the way you now recall dealing with him, was a chance for you to welcome him. And inasmuch as the way you treated him, you treated the Divine. 

 Jésus pauses. George cannot look at him. He looks down at his own hands folded on the table. >>although there is much that Jésus is saying, his tone is always loving and kind. He never raises his voice.  

Jésus (with compassion) 
Do you understand the idea of seeing the Divine in others? That the way you treat others is an opportunity to interact with the Divine. And rather than take the opportunity to bestow kindness and understanding, you treated me from your pride and with indignity. You wanted someone to pat you on
the back for helping build the shelter, yet one personal act of kindness was lost. 

 At this point, Martha begins to hum softly as she rocks and pats the infant.
With a sweet voice she sings what sounds to George like a made up song. 

 Martha (singing to the infant, without looking at anyone else in the room) 
I love you, you're perfect. I love you, that's everything. You are part of me, I am in your
heart, you are in my heart. You are loved. 

 George looks on with a puzzled expression. He turns to Holly. 

 George 
 And why do I know you? Did I have an encounter with you? 

 Holly 
 Do you remember any reason why you and I would have crossed paths? 

 George 
 No offense, but I don't know any lessons I could have learned from...well...anyone like you in my life. I don't have anything against....people like you. To each their own, I say. I know I never did anything to put you down. 

 Holly 
 In your life, do you remember someone who worked in one of the companies from whom you sought campaign suppor when you were running for city councilman? There was someone you met, someone who headed the public arts council? 

 George 
 I think so. You always wore a neck scarf right? Always a neck scarf with a butterfly motif? I do remember now. I remember you catching me staring at you and I told you that the scarf reminded me of a picture I had seen in a magazine. I tried to make you feel...to feel...OK. 

 Holly 
 The person you knew me as was trying to make a difference in the community. I
wanted to create a public art space. To encourage kids and young people to find
their self expression through art. Do you remember that? Do you remember what you told the Mayor about the kind of people who worked with the public? 

 George 
 Vaguely. I think I had told the Mayor that even though I had nothing against you, the public may base their perceptions on his projects on how you....looked...and that may leave a negative image in their minds. But I wasn't the ONLY one who thought that! You must admit, most people would have felt uncomfortable not knowing how to relate to you! Should they think of you as a man? As a woman?

 Holly 
 In the world beyond yours, there are no such things as either men or women. There is neither free man nor slave. We are all one. We are all spirit. We appear to you this way now because we are part of what you accepted. You spent your life as a Catholic, but you didn't even fully experience that path to God 

George 
 How was I not a good Catholic? 

 Holly 
 Its not about being a good Catholic. I am speaking about your experience of God. There are as many paths to God as there are individuals, but you never even fully experienced the one to which you say you were attached. You say you lived the life of a "Saint" and yet you never even looked to a Saint for guidance, for comfort. You didn't pray the prayers, you stopped taking communion, you had not
made the sign of the cross in years. Whenever you were inside the most beautiful church in the state, your mind was a hundred miles away, in a small corner office, thinking of anything else. 

 a new window scene comes into focus. It's a small office. 
 interior - non-descript office - daytime We see "Holly" sitting at a desk, looking at a small hand mirror, adjusting the scarf around her neck. As she looks up she sees a man standing in front of her.
We see him only from the back. The smile fades from Holly's face and is replace with a solemn, almost "hurt" look and she lowers her head. interior - same small room - continuous George looks down at his hands again. He seems to be lost in thought. 

Martha begins to say the "Glory Be" prayer 

 Martha (to no one) 
Glory be to the Father... 

 George looks at Martha as she recites this prayer to the infant, which we have
still yet to see or hear. 

 A new image appears on the window behind George. 

 interior - undetermined location - undetermined time/date 

 A simple image of a pair of hands holding the rosary. The hands are not
discernible as either male or female. 

 Martha (VO) ...Glory be to the Father, 

 The scene in the window fades out 

 INTERIOR - SAME SMALL ROOM - CONTINUOUS 

 Martha
 ...world without end....world without end....world without end Martha goes silent again. Jésus (quietly, not looking at anyone) And so it is. 

 George 
 I am beginning to feel like my life is being reduced down to a few instances
where I just didn't do it right. But I feel like that's an unfair assessment.
I really did try my best. (sighs heavily) 

 >>George regards Holly silently. Holly smiles at George again with a look of deep compassion. Her eyes are soft on him. George looks over to Jésus without expression. Jésus offers the same smile as Holly and brings his hands together as if in prayer and bows his head to George. George looks at Martha. She has yet to look up at him or engage him directly in any way. She hums softly but has a
small sweet smile on her face as well. 

 George 
 And what of her? When did I meet her in my life? What circumstance where I gave a sincere effort yet Was there a time I faile to completely honor her? 

 Jésus 
 You need not be defensive. This is for your benefit. For you to understand fully what happens next. There really is great love here for you. 

 George 
 No. I do NOT feel it. I feel condemnation. I feel as if I just do not measure up. How does anyone measure up. What are we cut out for? Who can be perfect? 

 Jésus 
 Who indeed? Whats perfect is the process. In any moment you strive to be even incrementally closer to Truth. That is perfect. That is all we must do. 

 George 
 And her? (indicating Martha) I am searching my memory. But she has not looked
upon me. How do I....how DID I know her? 

 Holly 
 What do you feel happens next? What is after your experience of life? Where are you going? 

George 
 What? I get to choose? Do you mean Heaven or Hell? I would choose Heaven!
What is it? Where is it? 

 Holly 
 Your "life" experience is the only one in which you have a separate sense of self. An identity of self outside of the All. Heaven, as you know it, is just a concept for the physical realm. To be part of the "ALL" is beyond your comprehension, It is a level of wholeness for which you do not have words or any point of reference. All you knew of as YOU will be no longer. Your mistakes, your hurts, as well as any feelings of separation. As waves are not separate from other waves but all part of the ocean. Though the circumstances that created them may be different, they all return to the ocean. Without want or need, you can return to Source. Hell is another concept for the physical realm, and in truth, it is a feeling of total separation from the All. Its a feeling of disconnection so total that you will never feel whole. 

 George 
 But sameness is hated in our lives. To be individual is the goal. It is rewarded. How can perfection turn that idea on its head? 

 Holly 
 But you do not have the capacity to understand how it really is. In your world, pure white light is made of the reflection of all spectrums of light. There are really endless levels within the pure white light. In your world, the absorption of all light actually becomes the deepest black. Perfection is the reflection of pure light. Inclusion, light and perfection. Separation is the absorption. Darkness, separation and lack of any characteristics. Simple but you may understand the opposites of a spectrum. 

 George seems lost in thought again. His brow is furrowed and he seems borderline exhausted. 
Martha begins to sing again. This time it's a song from the 1970's that had been refashioned into a soda commercial. As she finishes the first chorus, George, in a flash of recognition, looks again at her, wide-eyed. 

 George 
 Martha? YOU! I remember you! You helped me produce my first speech while we were in college! You were amazing. So beautiful and so dedicated. I think we even dated! (to the others) Is that her? Is that the same young woman? 

 Jésus 
 You have part of it correct. She fell in love with your drive, your ambition and the electric atmosphere you created wherever you went. She believed in your vision. She felt at her young age that she could actually make something of her life. She had come from a family where the mother was long suffering and the father was silently aggressive. Abusive with indifference. She was on the edge of becoming alive. Do you remember what happened between you two? 

 George face begins to crumble. He becomes overwrought with emotion. He doesn't cry but his words are almost strangled in emotion. 

 George 
 We went out after a debate. We had too much wine and made love. I woke up thinking that she would become a burden. She looked at me with such admiration and expectation. 

 Holly 
 What did you say to her? 

 A new scene appears behind George in the window.
 INTERIOR - SMALL ART STUDIO - DAY - UNDEFINED DATE 

 Martha sitting at a canvas. The canvas is actually blank. A door close behind her. 
 CLOSE UP on Martha's face, and her eyes close and smile fades. 

Window scene fades. 
 Interior - same small room- continuous 

 George 
 I told her that we could not be a couple. She wanted too much. She needed me too much. I needed more excitement than she generated. I told her she needed to learn more about the world. 

 Holly 
 It may be hard to hear it this way, but she didn't keep the baby. 

 George (choking) The baby? 

 Holly 
 She conceived that night. She had a very difficult pregnancy. You don't recall
that she dropped out of school because you were riding a wave of acceptance and
support that would carry you to many successes in your life. How could you know
what happened to one young woman? You knew her only briefly. 

 George (still emotional) 
What happened to the baby? 

 Holly 
 She was almost to term. She miscarried. Her family had turned their back on her and she felt guilty that she was not able to even become a mother. She had thought having a baby would bring into her life all the love she felt she wanted to give. And she lost her only son. In her grief, her life took a turn for the
worse. She escaped into drugs, selling herself and eventually into an unfulfilled life living on the fringe. Most people just didn't believe in her. In her goodness. In how much love she really could offer. The rest of the details aren't important. 

 George 
 Then what can I do? What are my choices? What happens now? You say somehow I will know or I will choose. Heaven or my concept of it is I get to forget all my mistakes? Hell means I get to remember them compounded? I don't want to be separate, I want things to be right. 

 Holly (indicating the briefcase that has been beside George the entire time.)
 In your memory are all the things that can be done differently. All the times you thought you were right but were still coming from a profound sense of YOURSELF only. Not selfish, but not concerned for anyone other than yourself either. You can choose to rejoin Source. Say good bye to all that was and experience paradise in Source, or you can... 

 George (interrupting) 
Can I do it over? Can I do it again? Can I take the chance that I DO know better? I CAN bring others closer to truth. Can I do it again? 

(he gets more emotional and impassioned.) 

 Holly and Jésus share a solemn glance and then look at Martha as she continues to rock the baby. 

Holly 
 You can choose so. You must choose freely. It happens when you decide. To rejoin Source is a final choice as well. All the effort will be over. 

 George 
 Then I choose to do it again! I can make it work. life is full of opportunitie to make it right. To bring us all to the Truth. For all of us to reflect the light. Life would not have been created if it wasn't possible. Too many of us agree that its worth it. 

 Martha (indirectly) 
The choice must be free will. 

 George (grabbing the briefcase) 
Then I choose it. I choose it all over again. 

 Light comes from the window scene and grows brightly until the whole scene has been engulfed in the light. It recedes a bit and we see Holly, Martha and Jésus stand. Martha drops the blanket open and we see it is now empty. Jésus and Holly come to stand on each side of Martha. Jésus has a tear in his eye. 

Holly 
 The choice is always the same. 

 Martha 
 They go back and live separately. (pause) They always choose "Hell." 

 A new scene appears in the window. 

We see a newborn being held in a doctors hands. 

 interior - hospital delivery room - undefined date 

 We see a baby crying, covered in birth matter, being cleaned by a nurse. From off camera we hear the doctor then the mother over the cries of the infant. 

 Doctor 
 You have a healthy baby boy. 

 Mother 
 Thank God. 

 Fade to black. 

 end 





Monday, December 31, 2012


Coming Back to Leave

When I first had my book published, in 2011, it was the realization of a long held dream.  I had always wanted to write, but never felt like it would come to be something that I could actually accomplish.  Due to a total upset in how I thought my life was to play out, I found myself back in North Carolina, and happened upon a group called "Writers in Motion" which sought to foster the creativity of those who WANTED to write.  Belinda Guyton, the leader of this group, was always enthusiastic, always ready to guide us to make the dream come true for ourselves.  (Her first book, "I Shall Live and Not Die" is a personal story about her own life.)  I recalled having created a "vision board" at one time and on it was "I am a published author" and "I am a screenwriter" as well as some other goals/dreams.  After having my book published, I reaffirmed my intention to write a screenplay, and through circumstances, met a film-maker who challenged me to write a script for him to review.  He gave me just a few guidelines and elements that we was working with, and I was free to come up with the crux of the story.  Long story short, he and his team liked what I had written and with a few of his own changes, he actually filmed the story.  As ecstatic as I was to be part of something else that had actually come to fruition, I was blown away by the fact that the short, "Canonize Me" was also selected to be in the Court Métrage (Short Film Showcase) for the 2012 Cannes Film Festival.  To me this was a major accomplishment.  After that, I was challenged again to write another short, and the only parameters given me was that it should be a one-actor piece and be about 10 minutes long.  One of the stories I had begun writing years earlier came back to me, and I challenged myself to condense the emotion of it into these parameters.  The team again liked what I had written and it is now in production.

I am so energized by the past two years in particular that I have formed a production company, "Bits and Peaces Productions, LLC" to further my intention of continuing to write, and to write screenplays, and someday SOON to have my own stories brought to a larger audience.  What I wanted to do with this blog entry is actually share the most recent script I had written for you to read.  I am currently working on a spec script which is a comedy, but after that I will expand this script into a full story.  I welcome any questions and feedback.  Let me know what you think.  And thank you for taking the time to read it.  (note:  the working title has changed a few times, and currently I am referring to this work as "Coming Back To Leave.")




Coming Back to Leave
(introductory short)
©2012 Brian Todd Barnette

Interior - small bungalow: morning: present day

fade IN

telephone ringing

RING RING


Varying SHOTS of WHAT SEEMS TO BE AN EMPTY HOME as TELEPHONE rings; A LIVING room, a BEDROOM.

RING RING

interior - same house - kitchen - continuous.

Shift focus to notice man in mid 30's drinking coffee at  wooden table in a modest kitchen. He gets up and crosses room to the phone on small telephone-table, he stops and looks at it while it continues to ring.  Then it stops. He pauses then returns to kitchen table and sits back down, toying with a pen as he  stares at a blank note pad on the table.

panning out.

He looks around and we see more of the kitchen. It is clean, with traditional cabinets and just a few appliances and knick-knacks on the counter. The man sets down the pen, and we hear his thoughts, in a vague, almost matter-of-fact tone.  Not cold, but no real hint at depth of any emotions.


MAN(VO)
I can't believe what I'm doing.  I am going to actually leave you.  It's like I am the last one to really get it.  After such a long time of trying my best, I can't fix this.

He stands up and begins to wander around the house as we continue to hear his thoughts.

interior - same home- living room - continuous.

Man walks into living room from kitchen.

Man(VO)
It's strange.To think we lasted as long as we have.  Even our friends said we were mismatched early on.

He touches several objects in the living area as he reflects; a small framed pair of theater tickets, two sea-shells, a plaster of a dog's paw-print.

MAN (VO)
You were the one who wanted to get married someday.  You always said you would convince me.  I thought I may reconsider, but I know I will never get married.  I am convinced it wouldn't last.  Especially now.

He walks into a short hallway.

interior - same home - bedroom - continuous.

Man walks into bedroom from hallway.

He walks through bedroom to closet  and opens closet door. He pulls a suitcase from a shelf, takes it back into the room and opens it on the bed.

interior -same home- closet - continutous.

He returns to the closet.  It is neatly arranged with all men's clothing.  He slowly begins choosing various articles of clothing.  His hands move slowly over the clothes stopping occasionally on some articles; a pair of jeans, a novelty  T-shirt, several colorful ties from a tie hanger.


MAN (VO)
...So different...and yet we wore each others clothes.  What's mine?  What's yours?  Does it matter?  Are these your T-shirts and jeans?  Are these my short sleeved shirts and khakis?  Does that matter?  I could buy a whole new wardrobe and still look the same on the outside.  It's the inside that has changed ...broken.  I can't dress that up.

interior - same home- bedroom - continuous.

Man returns to the bed with items of clothing; jeans, pants, shirts, etc.  He begins to fold several articles of clothing into the suitcase.  he goes to a bureau and chooses socks, under garments from the drawers and a wrist watch from the top of the bureau.  He fingers a few other items of jewelery on the top of the bureau.


MAN (VO)
Things I always thougt but never asked... which one of us had the sunnier disposition?  Who makes better jokes?  Now it's different questions.  Which friends will treat me the same?  Who really likes "me" and not just "us?"  Do I even care?


The phone rings again and he stops and listens but still does not move to answer it.

RING RING

Telephone rings a few more times then stops.

He finishes packing the suitcase with the clothes and wanders into the bathroom.

interior - same home- small bathroom - continuous.

There are two different toothbrushes, two different types of razors, two different colognes.


MAN (VO)
Were the odds against us anyway?  You believed in God and went to church, I never could.  You belived in a lot more than I did.  What does your faith say aobut what I am doing?  Do you still love me?  Do I still love you?  I'm sure I do, but I have to block that out or I couldn't do this.  And I have to.

Man returns to bedroom.

Interior - same home- bedroom - continuous.

He has brought one of each item from the bathroom and puts them into the side of the suitcase.

MAN (VO)
I Know it's not your fault.  I know its not "MY" fault.  Hell, it's not anyone's fault.  Still, I wonder if I could just be angry.  Or hate you.

Man walks out of bedroom carrying suitcase.

interior - same home - living room- continuous.

He brings the suitcase into the living area sets it down.  He walks toward to the kitchen he passes a small table and he looks down at a grouping of pictures in various frames.  Our vantage point is from behind the frames as he looks down, slowing as he passes.

interior - same home - kitchen - continuous.

Entering the kitchen he glances at the silent phone.  He then moves to the table and picks up the coffee cup from which he had been drinking, washes it in the sink, dries it and sets it onto a small shelf with only one other coffee cup on it.  The two cups are different in color and design.

MAN (VO)
No, it wouldn't be easier to hate you.

Close up of man adjusting the two coffee cups, moving them closer together with handles facing the same direction.

MAN (VO)
I'd never be able to do this unless I loved you.  Completely.

Now his cell phone rings as we see it on the small table in the kitchen.  He picks it up and looks at the caller ID.  We see the name "Patti."  He answers it.  We only hear his portion of the conversation as he moves back into the living area.

MAN
Hey Patti-O.  (Pause)  Yes, I am about to leave.  (pause) No, it isn't easy... this is what he wanted.

Man exits kitchen back to living room.

interior - same house - living room - continuous.

He moves to a box that is on a table and pulls out an urn.  We see that it is a simple funerary urn that would hold ashes of cremains, and a label on the box reads "Martin Funeral Home."

MAN
Yeah, it was nice.  That's what you say right?  That's what everyone says.  It was nice.  (Pause)  More for them than for me.  (Pause)  He wanted to be taken to the lake.  I owe it to him.  (voice cracks)  I'm leaving him there.

MAN (VO)
No, I coldn't leave you unless I loved you.  I'd want you with me always.  Even like this.  There was just no time to change our minds.

He sets the urn down with his back to the camera.

Camera view begins to widen out slowly.

Man return to phone conversation as scene begins to WHITE OUT.

MAN
I will see you when I get to Chicago.  I can finish things here any time.  (Pause)  I just can't believe I'm doing this.

Muted conversation continues as scene becomes completely white.

Fade to white

end.

Sunday, December 30, 2012


For me, being "spiritual" is a quest to reconcile within my self, the awesome unimaginable, and UNDEFINABLE totality of ALL that is, both physical and trans-physical, making from this experience a personal relationship with this Power. "Religion" is a fractured, egotistical, maybe sincere but definitely flawed and limited way in which we try to "share" our viewpoint with others. God help me to increase my SPIRIT and let go of my RELIGION.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012


Notes

Recently my step-father passed after a sudden diagnosis of advanced Leukemia.  He lived just about a month after finding out.  I guess that is one of those “blessings” you hear about after someone passes.  He had time to say things of importance to his loved ones, he was able to make peace with not only his coming death, but his life.  And he really didn’t have prolonged pain and suffering. 
A local pastor asked my step-fathers adult children to meet and discuss their thoughts and memories of him so that the eulogy would be as personal as possible.  I joined my mother with them to share our thoughts and feelings.  It occurred quickly to me that any handful of people may have varying ideas and memories about the same person and about the same events shared in their own lives.  We each view the world through a particular lens that is defined by our own circumstances and our unique perspectives on events.  I won’t share their personal recollections but I wanted to consciously choose the manner in which I would remember my step-father. 
To me, he was always very pleasant and supportive.  He was a nice guy with a pretty good sense of  humor, and he obviously cared for my mother and my brothers and sisters and their families.  That’s always a plus.  He and I did discuss once that it was a LOT easier to be a Grandfather or Uncle that it was to be a parent.  As I have no kids of my own, I do appreciate that.  
His appearance brings to mind the phrase “weathered” as he spent a lot of time in the sun.  He was an avid golfer and outdoors type of guy for sure.  First impressions may make you think of him as gruff as he maintained the bearing of a retired Air Force veteran.  But the memory I chose of him showed a different aspect.
He loved so sit outside and enjoy the day.  He especially loved the birds that can be found here in the sandhills area.  He maintained several bird feeders in the yard and was especially fond of the hummingbirds that came every summer.  He would comment and remark on them practically every day during the summer before they migrated back to Central and South American.  It is his love and admiration for these small creatures that informs my idea of him.
Once, last summer, while mowing the yard and maintaining the flower beds, he found s small dead hummingbird.  He made a mention of it with a slight edge of what I would now call sadness.  Not overwhelming, not obvious, but that slight change in a persons voice that they might get when discussing a sad childhood memory.  A tinge of wistfulness edged with sorrow.  Contrary to what one might think of a man like him, he didn’t just pick it up with a shovel and throw it into the garbage can.  He actually made a small hole in the ground in one of his tended flower beds and gave this small creature a proper burial.  It was a small act of honor for these birds that brought him such pleasure.  The idea of it lodged in my mind and was awakened by the exercise of choosing the memories we would have of him. 
I didn’t share that memory at our meeting with the pastor.  Something about it seemed almost too personal to mention at the time.  I was using the opportunity of his passing to evaluate my own life in a way which I think is natural and necessary.  It allowed me to give gratitude for all that he had done for me and my family.  I share it now because of a conversation I had with a friend just yesterday.
We were discussing how to fully open ourselves up to our talents and why its important to live a life that allows our true  individual gifts to be brought forth.  I think that its important to choose everyday to consciously live your life with the intent to try and nudge the world even just a fraction closer to Heaven.  It isn’t easy but not being able to do it every day is not a reason to not try.
However much time I have left myself on this Earth, or in this particular life is not known to me.  I do realize that I have much to be thankful for.  But should anyone have the opportunity to choose a memory of me at this point.  I hope I have done something that is worthy of a good thought.  If not, let me know.  I will do better.


Friday, December 16, 2011

Good-bye to a friend

December 15, 2011.

Today I said good-bye to a part of my everyday.

Almost 17 years ago a friend told me that a stray cat had given birth to kittens on his back porch and they were old enough to find new homes.  He asked if I wanted one before he took the others to the shelter, so I went over to see them.  We watched them playing together for some time, laughing as people do at the antics of baby animals.  One of the cream colored furballs seemed to stand back a bit more and just watch and observe.  That seemed like me, like my behavior.  But there was another cream colored kitten and I felt that it would be better to have two, so that they would have a buddy around, and I had read that they are easier to manage when not alone.
            I had been thinking at that time about getting a dog, and when I suddenly had two kittens, I thought it would be funny to give them “dog” names.  So I named them “Pepe”  (instead of “puppy”) and "Diogi" (in reference to the letters D-O-G.)  And for the past 16 plus years, they have been part of my personal tribe.  Anyone who develops true relationships with pets will realize that animals have very distinct and individual personalities.  Some scientists will warn against the practice of “anthropomorphism”  when it comes to dealing with the animal kingdom.  That basically means not attributing “human type” emotions when explaining their behavior.  But I find that unnecessarily reactive.  Its too far in the opposite direction.  I do not think animals experience feelings of “revenge” or “animosity” but I firmly believe that they feel joy, sadness, guilt, loss and most importantly, affection.  (I would further suggest anyone interested in considering this behavioral and philosophical question to read “When Elephants Weep” by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson and Susan McCarthy.)
            About a year and a half ago, a stray cat had gotten into the garage and Pepe, while an “indoor” cat, defended his territory and came out of the encounter injured to the point of almost dying.  I had never declawed my cats as part of me felt that having claws was part of what it was to “be” a cat.  And while he was able to defend himself, he never fully recovered to his pre-fight self.  He lost a lot of weight and never regained it all.  I identified with this as a few years ago I developed a very severe and chronic condition that prevented me from being able to properly ingest and digest food for about a year, and I had dropped down to about 120 pounds.  I’m at the point now of needing to be more disciplined to tone up as I am back to 185 pounds, but that’s another story.
            In the past few months, Pepe had lost even more weight and even most recently he had started to have trouble walking sometimes.  He was regurgitating sometimes and had begun to not practice what most pet owners will agree is the EASIEST thing about having a cat which was using his own litter box.  I began to fear the inevitable, but Pepe still enjoyed sitting by me in the chair, purring loudly while I petted him.  He enjoyed being petted from head to tail and even a gentle tug on his tail as I did.  He was a bit stand-offish with most people, especially kids, but he was always my buddy.  I am grateful that he never lost that desire, to sit beside me, content and at ease.
            Just a few days ago, after meowing loudly to wake me for his morning meal, he just sat by the bowl and looked at the food for the longest time.  He didn’t dive right in.  So I took a few pieces of chicken that I cooked as his treats and put it on the food.  Even still it took him a while to get interested.  I resolved that I would at least take him to the vet to see if there was an issue of which I was unaware and unable to determine on my own.  I was also preparing myself for the vet to say that he was indeed nearing the end of a domestic cats life expectancy.  In my mind, I sometimes dreaded feeling that I would come home from work and find him expired, or waking up and not having him in the room and having to find him hidden somewhere, gone off to pass as animals may do in the wild.
            When I took him into the vet, he got the requisite “what a nice cat” and “what a sweet face” that he normally got, but his overall demeanor was very subdued.  And the vets kind but resolute findings.  Pepe’s weight was less than 6 pounds (down from an all time high of 13 pounds and a steady 8-9 pounds since the altercation.)  Even more disturbing, his kidneys had shrunk to a precarious point which indicated imminent failure, and then the final, sobering finding, multiple, irregularly shaped tumors throughout his abdomen.  The vet seemed to think that Pepe would soon waste away.  His recommendation, while expected at some point, was suddenly before me.  Now seemed to be the time.  Pepe was laying quietly in my lap and I felt myself consciously trying to imprint into my mind the feel of his fur under my hand as I petted him from head to tail.  As much as possible, I committed to memory the feel of his tail as it curled around my hand in response to the petting.  I looked at him hoping to decipher some sense of what he must be thinking, knowing he did not like being in the exam room, but he seemed calm as he tucked his head into the crook of my arm.  Yet, I knew that I had to make this decision.  The vet felt that his little body was already shutting down.  I felt no shame, even as a grown man, when I felt large, warm tears stream down my face.  He was a friend and it was up to me to make this decision.  So I did.
            As the vet administered the final injection of meds that would quiet Pepe’s life, I thought my mind would be filled with corny repetitions of “good-bye” or “I love you little guy” but instead the words that kept ringing through my mind were “Thank you.”  I realized how blessed I had been that this little piece of the infinite, disguised in cat form, had spent almost 17 years being part of my every day.  A small fragment of the universe, developed its own consciousness, and was part of my tribe.  As a 46 year old man, I have certainly lost pets and people before.  But to realize such a sense of gratitude was a gift that I had not received before.  And I find it fitting that it was being taught by a life-being that would never plan to hurt me, never hold onto feelings of anger or resentment, and would always just look to me for a simple act of gentle kindness and would offer simple company and a reason to smile from time to time.  Again, all I can say and all I feel is  “Thank you.”    We should all be so grateful.
            I want to take this lesson as far as I can in my life.  To commit to memory the look of the faces of my friends and family.  The sound of their laughter.  The smells associated with the seasons and the environment surrounding me.  Everything I think I love, I want to experience more fully.  That is quite something to learn from a 17 year old cat.  I couldn’t’ feel luckier.  I know that the pain of losing a beloved pet is personal.  I will not strive to make it more or less than it is.  It does hurt.  It hurts as much as it should.  And that is ok.  I do not ask that it hurt less, as I know it will eventually hurt "sweeter."