Mothers and Daughters

Back in 1989 in film school, my long-time friend the director--Pamela Tom--took this photograph of me and my daughter on the beach in Santa Monica. We had just returned from Connecticut where we filmed my mother for the documentary. At this point in time, my mother and I had been apart for quite a while. From 1976-1988 my parents lived in Saudi Arabia while my own little family lived in New York City and then California. When we were filming the story of my mother, I was still struggling with my relationship with her. Perhaps I felt abandoned or not properly mothered. Perhaps I was angry. 

 

In the making of the film, Pamela suggested my daughter and I re-enact our mother-daughter roles from my childhood. My daughter playfully chased the seagulls on the beach, laughing and dancing—as my voice-over explained how when I was a little girl I wanted to catch them and bring them home with me. My mother--always ready to jump on board that Big Imagination Machine would say, yes, of course! The cats wouldn’t mind! We would all live happily in our home in Belltown, Connecticut--seagulls, cats, my mother, my father, my brother and me.

 

My mother was so dramatic, so compelling that I completely fell into her imaginary world. However, when I discovered the constraints of the grown-up world—I felt lost. Confused. Even a little betrayed.

But here’s the amazing part—while playing the role of my mother for the film, my feelings about her were completely changed. I felt a deep sense of compassion for my mother. And I forgave her for many excesses. 

 

Creative Friends--sometimes life can break your heart. But if you are brave enough to look into the center of that broken heart, you will discover a gift. Illumination. The knowledge that you are a part of this great big epic, ever-changing, role-reversing, confusing, fantastical story called the human experience.

Know this and be kind.

 

Love,

Jamie