The Nobody-ness

I belong to a networking group of creative people in the filmmaking arena. We have a meetup that’s hosted every other week virtually via Zoom as people like screenwriters, producers, actors, directors, composers, managers, and more of the like join from all over the world. There are people Zooming in from the US, UK, Africa, Europe, and more. As a music supervisor as well as writer/director, I always enjoy the discussions about people’s current projects and the latest news circling around the film industry. It’s also just really nice to hang out (albeit virtually) with cool creative folks.

At each meetup I usually see familiar faces, as well as meet new people who join from hearing about the community through various film events/festivals or being invited by others in the group. At the last meetup, there was a newbie who joined us from Russia named Roman.

Roman is a film director, who is currently promoting his first feature film in the film festival circuit. When introducing himself to the group, I noticed he had a very pure and lighthearted energy. He wasn’t self-promote-y. He didn’t lead with his successes or needs. In fact, I don’t even think he mentioned the name of his film. In the entertainment industry it can be quite common to hear people rattle off their bullet points of accomplishments as a way of introduction: “I’ve done this, this, and that,” or perhaps they’ll start off with what they’re looking for from others: “I need this, this, and that.” Roman simply showed up with happiness and curiosity about the group. He commented that his name on his Zoom screen was displayed in Russian letters and he was trying to figure out how to change it to English spelling. It was very endearing. Something about him seemed innocent and just…real. He was genuine and I liked him right away.

Throughout the group conversations, we ended up learning that Roman’s film has started to receive recognition in the independent film festival circuit. It won the grand jury award for Best Feature Film at a huge and widely respected festival in Los Angeles earlier this year, and is also accepted into other upcoming fests. As a side note, I was impressed by the achievements he mentioned, so later on I looked up his film (still not knowing the name of it, but just going by the festival announcements). I watched the trailer and read more about it. His work is beautiful and compelling. I seriously can’t wait to see where his creativity takes him in the industry.

During the meetup, someone in the group was talking about the marketing plans for their film. I don’t remember the context, but I think they were saying something about getting all their ducks in a row in order to present their project to buyers. While talking about this, they said something like, “I don’t want them to think I’m a nobody.”

While we all kind of nodded in understanding of this sentiment, it was Roman who spoke up first. He said something like, “I don’t know, personally I don’t mind being a nobody. I know someday I’ll be a somebody and that will be a different experience. I’m going to be really successful and a lot of people are going to know my work. So in the meantime, I might as well just be the nobody I am. It’s kind of cool—that’s how I feel. Just enjoy it. Enjoy the nobody-ness.”

He didn’t say it with arrogance. It was coming from a place of humility and a certain childlike perspective. I thought it was brilliant! The above is paraphrased, except for that very last line, which I distinctly remember: “Enjoy the nobody-ness.” That line has been echoing in my mind for days.

As much as this is solid advice about the independent entertainment industry, it’s also an important reminder about the beauty of presence in general. It’s funny, presence is a state of being, but I often think of it as a place. A place inside that’s available for me to tap into at any time. Really, it’s a place and a nothingness at the same time. A place of witnessing without judgements. The is-ness.

The importance of presence seems to be a message that’s recently been showing up for me a lot. Lately, I have been splitting my time between the Bay Area and Los Angeles. I was just in LA for almost two weeks when my time was nearing to head back north for a bit. As the clock ticked a countdown towards my departure, my wonderful partner-in-crime/work and I were feeling the dread of my imminent trip. It was the familiar feeling of not wanting to say goodbye. (Goodbyes are sure not my favorite). I could sense the melancholy hovering around us like clouds, an unspoken understanding that we both didn’t want to say bye.

Then the message of presence came barreling through when he said, “You know what? Something just suddenly dawned on me. I’ve spent the last couple days thinking about you leaving that I’ve been missing you already and you haven’t even left yet. You’re right here! Why have I been wasting so much time and energy missing you when you’re not even gone?” 

I began to realize that I had been doing the same thing. My energy had reflected something that wasn’t even in the present moment. It was responding to something in the future. We were pre-feeling something that didn’t even happen yet. An event on a different timeline. It’s as if all the sudden we looked up and went, “Huh, now how’d we get over here? Whoops!”

Although this is a perfectly ordinary thing we all tend to do sometimes, it did get my mind whirling around about the message and importance of presence while on my drive back up north. Why DO we “waste” time and energy worrying or thinking about things that haven’t even happened yet? Why is it so hard sometimes to enjoy the moment we’re in when it’s so, so beautiful for what it is? Why do we get so caught up in being somebody when being nobody is pretty cool too? Why do we choose to say, “I’m really gonna miss you when you’re gone,” instead of “I really enjoy you while you’re here”? If presence really is a present, why is it so hard to give it to ourselves? To receive such a precious gift… To just BE in whatever moment we’re in without the ghost of another timeline outlining our reality.

I wonder if part of the reason we so often slip out of presence is to protect ourselves. We know it’s going to feel sad to say goodbye so we prepare for that sadness. We brace ourselves. Anticipate the emotion before we even feel it. That way, we ease into it as opposed to being hit all at once.

But if that’s the case, trying to be kind to ourselves may actually just be hurting ourselves instead. I mean, if you have the choice to either enjoy the time you have with someone you care about, or miss them, which one would you choose? If you have the choice to worry about someone’s perception of you (being a “somebody”) or enjoy being just who you authentically are (being a “nobody”), which one would you choose? Worry verses joy? Sadness verses happiness? Constraints verses freedom? Fear verses love?

The choice seems obvious, and yet, we still sometimes choose the contrary. Not all the time, but sometimes. Well, I can at least speak for myself. Consciously or subconsciously, it does happen. The doors of fear and love exist side by side, and I waltz right through the wrong one. That’s not to say I can’t return to love at any one moment. It’s just usually a bit longer of a route to get there.

While the significance of presence is not a new epiphany for me, it’s been a huge reminder this past week or two as the stories in my mind have taken me downstream to the past, upstream to the future, and bobbing along everywhere in between. I’m exhausted! Poor old mind… If you’d just stayed rooted in the Now, you’d be feeling rested and resilient! Time to drop the anchor and float.

The truth is, we’ll never be this version of ourselves again. Tomorrow we won’t be the version of us that we are today. The You that you are now in this moment is a different You than the You that existed one minute ago, or the You that will exist one minute from now. Right now, you are uniquely the You that you are right NOW—in all your “faults” and in all your glory. You can never get that You back in the same exact moment in the same exact way. It is actually a really beautiful and amazing thing to think about. It’s kind of weird! Good, weird. But weird. Remarkable! You are blessed with the gift of being unmistakably, powerfully once-in-a-moment YOU at any given time. Just the recognition of that alone is enough to make me fall on my knees with gratitude. Poet and illustrator Rupi Kaur perhaps says it best: “I will never have this version of me again. Let me slow down and be with her.”

Sometimes we are so focused on the next moment, whether it’s something we’re dreading or something we’re looking forward to, that we easily slip out of the gift God continually gives us—the unique and magical present moment. The vortex of stillness. The point of power.

I’m realizing that if I overlook the moment I’m in, I’m also neglecting the Me that I am in that moment, which is almost heartbreaking. I’ll never get her back. Each moment is a constant hello and goodbye to yourself. If a moment passes unappreciated, the moment is essentially lost. And if a moment is lost, a piece of yourself is lost. Theoretically, forever. If a moment comes while you’re 100 percent IN it, well, it’s like the moment is eternal. It really seems to be always part of you.

The other thing is, being completely swept off your feet by the present moment’s enchantment doesn’t always have to be a solo ordeal. Have you ever shared the exact same sacred slowdown, melting into the moment along with someone else? Magic!

I remember a few years ago I played a gig (if you don’t know, I’m also a singer/songwriter) at a cafe in the Napa Valley. I was singing away as the sun started to set. All the sudden, shockingly bright orange and pink sunbeams began to reach into the cafe’s windows, beckoning all of us to look. After a song or two, the sunset’s pull became completely unavoidable as we all kept looking out the window. So I put my guitar down and walked outside along with the people who were at the show. It’s like we all had this unspoken understanding that this was a moment we didn’t want to miss.

A recent sunset/moonrise in LA.

The small crowd stood outside gazing up at the exquisite fire and cotton-candy sky. We were in shared presence and it felt meaningful. We stared at the live painting for a little while, murmuring our “wows” until the sunset subsided, and then headed back into the cafe. The moment passed, but it had not gone without being collectively appreciated. A seemingly unimportant event, but I STILL remember that moment like it was yesterday. It became part of me because I stopped to absorb it and allow it to. (I wonder if those other people who were there remember it too. Like if they’re ever sitting around thinking about presence and say, “Remember that one time we were watching that girl sing and there was that spectacular sunset and we all went outside to watch it!” Funny.)

This reminds me of John Mayer’s song “3x5,” which talks about leaving the camera behind in order to get the most out of seeing the present moment with nothing but our eyes.

“Didn't have a camera by my side this time
Hoping I would see the world with both my eyes
Maybe I will tell you all about it when
I'm in the mood to lose my way
But let me say
You should have seen that sunrise with your own eyes
It brought me back to life
You'll be with me next time I go outside
No more 3x5's
Guess you had to be there
Guess you had to be with me”

(“3x5,” John Mayer)

I love the line that says the sunrise “brought me back to life.” I’m sure we can all relate to that feeling. Flipping on the switch of presence and feeling that revival. That awareness of waking up without even knowing that you were previously sleeping. The times we suddenly get clarity on the person we were just one moment (or even seconds) prior, reflecting and adjusting in the new moment. Calculating and assessing who we were/are/want to be at any given time. Sometimes a sunset sparks it. Sometimes presumably nothing at all.

And just like the sun may pull us into the present, the moon can remind us that we are whole no matter what phase we’re in. I’m learning that we could do with a little more grace every now and then to accept and love the version we find ourselves in—whatever version that happens to be. As well as offer that grace to others for the versions they find themselves in. Happy, confident, frustrated, fearful, sad, hopeful, hurt, carefree—all the versions are valid. All of them are important. All of them students. All of them teachers.

Your life is perhaps made up of all these millions of micro-Yous, which add up to one big You. Imagine the impact your life can have on a big-picture level if you can appreciate every single moment you’re in, honoring the version of You while you’re in it. Really, imagine that… What a life. What a legacy. How we choose to show up in each moment will inevitably reflect how we show up in our lives.

While this may sound simple, I don’t think it’s always easy. It’s easy to accept things and feel good when we’re happy. But what about the sad or fearful versions? Maybe feeling good doesn’t always have to do with happiness. I’ve learned on my journey that it’s possible (with practice) to still tap into that place of presence and feel peace even when everything’s a mess. That is true stillness after all. The ultimate goal, hey?

Although it may not always be easy, it’s certainly not impossible. And with practice comes progress. When you stray from the moment, you can return at any time. The most effective and quickest way I’ve discovered the reroute back to enjoying the present moment is gratitude. Really feeling thankful for the moment you’re experiencing—whatever it is—just simply for the beauty of what it is.

Look at the moment you’re in right now. Just think about how amazing it is that you’re sitting in it as this particular version of yourself that you’ll never experience again. Think about how marvelous it is that you have the power to transmute any difficulties into whatever you choose to create. You may have gone through or are going through a hard time. But that journey has grown you. Shaped you. Expanded you. Changed you. It’s created the mystic within you! You are YOU! I mean, come on! I throw my hands up! Too beautiful for words. I can’t even articulate it correctly in writing…so maybe I won’t try. I can’t. I can’t even couldn’t. I mustn’t!

So what about the whole time-not-being-linear thing and different timelines happening all at once? If timelines are parallel (AKA if the past and future don’t exist and everything only exists in one present moment), then I wonder if tapping into our “future” energy (worrying about something that has yet to happen), is really just being in tune with the Us that’s already experiencing that reality. In which case, that would mean we’re experiencing a different present moment—or is it the same present moment? Different present moments within the same present moment…? Wait, should I go down this rabbit hole? Hmmm… I’ll do it, don’t tempt me!

Okay, okay. I’ll let it be (for now). I think the point of my mulling that I want to share is this:

What are we going to do with each moment that we’ve been given? Are we going to worry or create? Despair or alchemize? Wonder or do?

And sometimes creating something might just mean creating space. Space for something new to blossom when it’s ready to.

This is it. This is the beautiful, messy, tragic, magical, brilliant life we’ve been charmed with. Might as well make every moment count. Might as well enjoy the version of You that you’re in, and the versions that others are in around you. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Or even the next moment? Anything can happen. In the meantime, I think I agree with Roman. Might as well enjoy the nobody-ness.

~

Below is a little poem I wrote called “Anchor and Drift” that was inspired by the ever-fluid and ever-solid present moment.

Anchor and Drift

Let us sit inside the moment we run in
Bask in the stillness while feeling the wind move fast
Giving thanks for the ride of the moment
While making it last before it chooses to pass

Let us slow down while we rush
Delighting in every step of our plans and mishaps
Never taking ourselves for granted
Creating space and closing the gaps

Know me now
I’ll be gone later
Know me later
I am new

I’ll lay in your sunshine
I’ll drink up your shadows
Whatever version you are today
I can’t wait to meet you

Grace

Your past brought you here
Your past poured your path
Trust the softness despite the concrete
The sidewalk under your feet was made from liquid

Step by step
Keep moving
Pause only to marvel
See all the magic!

Look up
Look in

Take your time
Time follows your lead
Postpone at your own risk
Let us not procrastinate the present

Savor it
Let it go

Anchor and drift

Time ticks but time is a myth
As you whisper, “time doesn’t exist”
And the stars hang on your lips
And the moon buoys me to sleep

Slow the wheels on the freeway
Like they’re stuck in thick honey
This moment won’t last forever
This moment is always forever

If time is real, then time is cunning
Sticky and sweet
Whatever it is
It is
It is
It is

I am!

I don’t need to know, I just want to show up
Let us bless where we anchor and drift with ease
Crown to heart
West to East

And so we are
And so it is

I will never be again
I will always be


Katie Garibaldi

Katie Garibaldi is a singer/songwriter, guitar player, filmmaker, and music supervisor. Her music has been featured in many noteworthy magazines, blogs and independent radio, and accolades include international songwriting, producing, and music video awards. With the growth of a strong network in the music and film industries, Katie is leveraging her experience as an independent artist, production skills, and passion for creative storytelling in a music supervision role with her company Owl At The Moon Creative. She is also currently working on her first short film. In true multi-passionate artistic fashion, Katie enjoys speaking and writing on the subjects of spirituality and creativity.

http://www.creativeowlchemy.com
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