Contentment might require more than we think

"Then something Tookish woke up inside him, & he wished to go & see the great mountains, & hear the pine-trees & the waterfalls, & explore the caves, & wear a sword instead of a walking-stick." The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien

I find myself googling exotic new places and wondering how long I'd have to save up in order to buy a ticket and go.

I thought something Tookish had woken up inside me, but it doesn't feel right. Doesn't feel quite Tookish.

It's because it's not the desire to adventure, but the desire to escape.

It's the loss of contentment.

Discontentment

I'd blame it on growing up as a missionary kid. We lived all over the place and even when we did
settle in Hawaii for ten years, we still moved around a lot. Changing apartments and houses every couple of years. But it's not the same, I was never running from something.

And now. I find myself living in a place I've lived for more than ten years, in the same job and I don't see it changing anytime soon.

There's a big part of me that misses the adventure of new places and new friends and an even bigger part of me that's terrified of a future settled in one place.

I can't help but shake my head at myself. I'm a filmmaker. Life is never the same. I never know where we're going to be shooting next, or what story we'll tell.

So why the discontented feels?

Vulnerability

I got my first clue a couple years ago, I sat down for an interview for another episode in our Making The Out of the Woods Project. Friend and fellow writer, Brenden Bell, asked me, "What's the hardest part about planting yourself somewhere?"

I had to laugh when he asked because it's something I feel like I'm still learning and as I stumbled through an answer it finally came to me.

The hardest part is how vulnerable I have to be.

Being vulnerable with the people in our lives is very, well, vulnerable. It's scary. It means they'll see me at my best but they'll also see me at my worst.

And what if they don't like me after seeing my worst?

But after more than ten years of friendship with some of these people I've realised something else very important.

They still love me.

Still call me friend after all the crazy years.

It's not been an easy road, the things I've struggled with, the losses I've experienced and my general drama queen status have not made it easy for them to be around me all the time, but they've still chosen to make an effort.

I remember one time when I was really struggling with self doubt. The director of our company came up to my desk and asked if I was ready for our meeting. We had no meeting scheduled, but I got up and followed him out of the room.

As soon as we moved out of the office I looked at him questioningly, he smiled and said, "I knew you just needed to get out of the office and talk."

It was a precious moment. He took the time out of our incredibly busy schedule to connect with my vulnerability.

This is something we need more in our society.

Both being vulnerable and sticking with people in their vulnerabilities.

Instead of flinging hateful words at each other and abandoning people because they annoy us or we just don't want that in our lives, I think we should challenge ourselves to stick it out. To force ourselves to keep walking with someone.

It won't just help the person we choose to keep walking with, but I believe it will help us to be better people too.

It won't be easy and there will be times when we want to just walk away, but if we hold to the course, we may just find that we change the world for the better and our Facebook feeds will be full of smiling faces of friends verses enemies.

It's a simple idea, but what if it could work?

Originally published on Christian Today.

Out of the Woods, Why Independent Film is Powerful

Originally published on The Independent Initiative

If someone gave me the “dream job” on ten different popular movies filming in the next year, I’d turn them down. Yes, it sounds crazy, but I find what I do now is more powerful.

I work in independent film with The Initiative Production Company. We’re still a young company, having been around for just under ten years. In this time we’ve produced two feature films, a documentary and countless short films. 

So why do I think what I do is more powerful than those ten popular movies and the “dream job”?
Because independent film gives me more opportunities to help the creatives around me grow in their talents and skill.

Our most recent film, Out of the Woods, which we’ve started a crowdfunding campaign for, is rife with examples of why independent film is powerful. Not only was it a great experience for me as a first-time feature film producer, but it allowed me to give real opportunities to other aspiring filmmakers and actors.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I’ve never heard of a film company who cared more about building up the next generation of filmmakers and actors over making lots of money. 

Real opportunities

During production of Out of the Woods, we ran an internship. We gave them real responsibility by placing them within the film crew instead of just being interns.

We created a live/learn experience.

As an example, one of our interns held the sole title of Unit Production Manager. Others held titles as 3rd Assistant Director, Gaffer, Concept Artist, 1st Assistant Camera Operator and many others.

This isn’t normal for a film internship.

But as a company, we believe giving them a real job is a better learning situation than just being the coffee getter or copy printer person.

We walked alongside our interns and treated them like part of the crew. Yes, we gave pointers and guided them in one direction or the other, but as our company is called The Initiative, we also encouraged them to take initiative and ownership of their role on set.

Being a stepping stone

We also brought on film school students from local universities, placing them in roles like Sound Mixer and Wardrobe Assistant. Creating a feature film opportunity for them and giving them much needed experience of set life.

A producer friend of mine, stopped by set one day and was amazed at the professionalism we’d established on set. Especially knowing the majority of our crew were interns and film students.

As a company, this is the heart of why we do independent film.

We want our company to be a real stepping stone for aspiring filmmakers to the world of the industry. It’s our hope they’ll be able to start on the bigger sets as something more than a Production Assistant.

We believe so strongly in building the next generation of filmmakers and actors, that all the funds we receive for our films go straight back into making that film stand out. None of us in The Initiative, make money on what we do. We’d rather see our story come to life and in the process create more set life experience for young filmmakers/actors.

Out of the Woods

It may sound a bit crazy to work in a company where we don’t get paid for all the hours of extreme labour and long hours which we pour into not only the film but those we train, but it actually opens doors for us to work with more creatives in the Brisbane area.

When they discover we’re doing this for the passion of it, it ignites their passion too. It creates an environment of like-minded individuals who put their all into a project because it’s a story worth telling.

It also gives everyone the opportunity to grow in their own skills and talents.

I love working with The Initiative Production Company.

I love that our focus is to be an encouragement and aid to creatives everywhere. I love that we get to give set life experience to aspiring filmmakers and actors.

I love that we continue to support those who come through our doors, by helping them find other jobs within the local industry and more. My job may not be financially beneficial for me, but the benefits I do receive through new friendships and adventures far outweigh anything else.

I can say truthfully, I am living the dream. We’ve created an innovative, tenacious community of film professionals, and I love every second of it.

We’d appreciate your help to continue to inspire young creatives by donating towards our crowdfunding campaign, Get Us Out of the Woods.

Be brave like the Snowbell

It thrives in cold climates. Lives in rocky, wet places. Prefers to be up high. On a mountain where the snow stays longest. Harsh conditions are best. Where it's strongest. Toughest.

Sounds romantic doesn't it? It's not.

It's lonely, cold. Harsh. The reality of this awesome place takes your breath away in its majestic beauty, but it also rips you apart. Bruises. Batters. Yet this is where, if you're brave, you find a small, delicate, violet flower. A Snowbell.

Snowbells grow under the snow. Imagine a domed roof of crystal. Sounds enchanting. Magical. It's incubated. Living in a warm haven from the cold world outside. Safe. But it doesn't stay there. It pushes through its protective palace. To blossom. To reveal its hidden beauty.

I first learn about this little flower just days before my mom calls with news that brings quick tears to my eyes. My beloved, loving aunt has passed away... For four days I hid in my house, watching what my housemate calls "depressing" movies. I'm caught off guard when she says that. To me they are deep and inspiring stories. I reluctantly pull back and examine them. They are depressing. All the films I choose are about eccentric, dysfunctional families. Where someone dies and the rest try to figure out how to keep going after their loved ones are gone.

This is how I process. I watch movies that remind me of my wonderful, quirky family. I cry with the characters as they learn how to say goodbye because, the truth is, I can't be with my family. I'm half way across the world from them.

I hate goodbyes.

I hate harsh realities.

But a little, purple flower keeps slapping me in the face.

Life is a lot like a Snowbell. Only I never feel quite ready to break into the cold world. There are moments I think I'm brave. Think that I'll push forward. But its a lot harder than I imagine. My aunt is gone and now there's a big hole.

I mourn. But not for her. She's in a better place. She's pain free and experiencing real life. She's pushed through the last snowflake domed roof this life can throw at her.

Her beauty is no longer hidden.

It's revealed.

I want to be like her and the Snowbell.

I can't join her. She's gone where I cannot follow. At least not right now. But I can and must use the hard things life throws at me to grow. I must push through life's snow domed impossibilities. Like saying goodbye. I realize I haven't made my heart public yet. My family has filled the pages of Facebook with their heart. I can't. It's not safe and all the words in the world feel empty and hollow. I can say I love her, it's true. I can say that I miss her. That I hurt for the family she leaves behind. It's all true but the words still feel void. Just like the emptiness I feel knowing I'll never hug her again. Never again hear her familiar, wonderful laughter. Laughter that tells me I am home. That I am with my family.

But I'm trying to be like my aunt. And like the Snowbell.

I must be vulnerable and brave.

Even when brick walls try to smother my progress. I must live. Really live. So here's my heart. It hurts. I'm confused. I miss my family. I miss my aunt... I remember she once bought me a thick, red towel. I remember she talked funny when she said "I love you, Cari". I remember she took me to Casa Bonita and the movies. I remember when she got excited about the plays she was in. I remember singing in the car with her and my cousins. I remember when she let herself be vulnerable in front of me and cried. I remember she opened her car by putting the remote under her chin. It always made me laugh. Seems silly that this is what I remember most. That silly remote. But it's real and the memories bring fresh pain. Just like the icy cold the Snowbell must feel the first time the bud pushes against the snow dome.

Letting the pain in doesn't feel good, but it's healthy. How else does the Snowbell reveal its bright royal colors? How else do we learn to really laugh?

And joy comes in the morning. I know it. The glorious sun shines down on the Snowbell and keeps it warm. The bright light causes the snow to sparkle. The Comforter stands next to my family. Next to me. I can release the pain and let the beauty in. I can laugh again.

My family is all together today, celebrating the life of my aunt. I wish I was there, but I'm still half way across the world. I hear the funeral was wonderful. Heart-warming. I'm not surprised. She was an amazing, loving woman. A great mother and wife. A wonderful aunt. I hear its snowing there now. Filling that world with wonderful, clean snow. How miraculous. My aunt. The Snowbell. Adorned with diamond jewels of crystalline snow.

No longer hidden.

Fully revealed.