IT’S MY BIRTHDAY

Ms. Fonda:

First, a belated but happy birthday to you. As we mature and accrue life experience and wisdom, every year that arrives and comes to pass is one for which we learn to be grateful; even though at times — often of crisis and tribulation — and, no matter our age, we sometimes feel as lost and vulnerable as we did in our more youthful years. But that’s all a part of life, isn’t it? We must adapt, or else begin to suffer from atrophy (and who needs that?!).

Second, regarding occasions of backsliding: We all do it, don’t we? Sometimes elements come into our life by which we find ourselves daunted and exhausted. At times, too much seems like “too much,” and not enough ever seems to be “enough.” What I remind myself when such times come into my life — when self-doubt arises; when my ability to engender “social grace” begins to fray — is that I have the power to consider it from two perspectives: 1) Give in and be miserable; or 2) Utilize the challenges as a way to rediscover worth, love, and patience. For though doubt can be a volatile thing, it doesn’t have to sink us completely (unless, of course, we instill it with that power). Rather, what I try to do is consider said challenges from a different perspective (perhaps that’s just the writer in me; ha ha & wink wink). Are not moments of doubt and episodes of backsliding good opportunities for us to reconsider, recognize, and implement our worth as human beings?

And here’s something else that’s wonderful: that you are human enough to admit — and to share with others — that your confidence is not always operating at its optimum potential. What that means? That you are human… just like everyone else living on this planet. For I think often people consider other people who are talented, famous, and monetarily wealthy as living rather a charmed life. Now, that may seem like a pretty good daydream (for some); but it is, alas, a dream: illusory, ethereal. And the fact that you dare to be honest, that you dare to say, “It’s not all sunshine and rainbows”– Well, it makes my heart glad.

The other evening, “Coming Home” was on television. Of course, I have the DVD (as well as the screenplay), and I’ve watched, studied, enjoyed, and been very moved by the film many times; but naturally I had to switch the channel and watch some of the film again. The scene upon which I happened occurs late in the story, when Sally and Luke return to his place after she has retrieved him from the police station following his protest. Luke had just come out of the bathroom to find Sally on the bed, still in her coat and, with her straightened hair, looking very much like “cheery Sally, the captain’s wife.” As I watched the scene, I fell again into a deep respect for what motion pictures are at their best. It’s a scene in which we are reminded of the importance of communication, of sharing, of being vulnerable, of connecting with another human being. And, most important: of being capable of feeling and extending empathy to others.

Do you know what occurred to me at that moment? “Empathy” is something you’ve been exercising with others for a very long time. Not only in your art, but in your life. Yes: in your very existence.

How wonderful and empowering it is to realize that. To really see it and know and revere it for what it is. In my art, I’m most interested in exploring the human condition. I want to know why we’re here, and what it means, and the things we can do to be better people, both individualistically and communally. It’s something to which I also aspire in my life. As E. M. Forster said so succinctly, “Only connect.” I believe that. I embrace that.

And I embrace you, too, for being, in so exemplary a way, a person who not only understands this, and its importance, but also lives it. We are each a shrine, when you think about it. Our best resides within; our best is manifested when we allow it to burgeon without.

What a lovely thing to realize.

As always, warmest regards,

John