Star Adjacent

If you can't be them, join them.

A fellow writer in Unmute asked me to expand upon a piece of writing I posted to our group. She wanted to know why I wrote the following

“One of the only times I am 100% within myself consistently is upon awakening.”

She responded, “…Very interesting concept. I would love to know more about who the narrator sees during the day and what breaks this spell.

So, I answered…

Tash, To answer your question: Just being in a room, a part of my consciousness is often aware that I am entertaining someone else’s consciousness. The times I lose myself are when I’m focused creatively — in writing, photographing, playing piano, daydreaming, reading, watching movies, masturbating, drunk (but I don’t drink!) etc — then I naturally climb back inside myself fully, just forgetting anyone else exists. There is an aspect of being able to thrive or push myself further when I think people are watching me. There’s a feeling of performance about it - it pushes me to succeed. When I was young, I wanted to be an actress. I studied with professional teachers and did some acting, but I couldn’t forget myself on stage. My family is in show business in various forms, and growing up in the Hollywood aura it was the industry to aspire to, but I was an over-eater, insecure, and had no confidence that I looked good enough, especially compared to my mother, whose looks ticked off all the boxes while mine would have had I lived in Europe! … I performed at home, at family dinner parties where I could take all the attention without worry. On stage, I was too self-aware. When I discovered what it felt like to be behind the camera, I found myself to be gifted with a natural talent. It all just clicked. And, It suited me to be star adjacent. I could feel the heat of the limelight without all the responsibility to be good in it. I could within the aura my friends shinned in, and that was enough…until now.

Linda Wolf documentaryHere is the whole piece I wrote:

Hello Myself, My Artist Self.

Photographer/Author/ (www.lindawolf.net) (beingahuman.substack.com)

I lay there upon awakening, welcoming in all my ancestors. One by one, I named as many as came to mind: Mama Barbara, Grandma Carrie, Great-Grandma Sarah, Great-Great-Grandmother Esther Chemaine; Great Great Great Grandmother Rubinstein; Grandma Frieda; and all the Grandfathers, and my Father – I welcomed them into me. I ask them, “What do you want me to do for you that you cannot do for yourselves any longer? What are your greatest wishes and hopes for me to be and do for myself?” I go on this way until I think map out my steps once I get up – The first thing to remember – take my Probiotic. I ask myself, “What do you feel like drinking this morning?” I tell myself, “If you get up now, you can go swimming and get back before Unmute, if you get up now and leave the house by 7:15.” Rarely, do I make it out the door once I have my tea and look at email. Twice a week I am being successful and that’s good. I made it out the door today by 7:20.

One of the only times I am 100% within myself consistently is upon awakening. It is when no one is watching me, looking at me, curious about me, observing me, witnessing me – or more accurately one of the only times I’m 100% not dividing myself into being aware that someone else is, or maybe is not, but in my mind is, looking at me. Otherwise, I’m not all here, inside me, focused on experiencing whatever I’m experiencing by myself.

Being an only child is the cause for this. Being entertainment, joy, concern for two people who are so in love with me, who focused so much attention on me for so long is the reason.

I got all the attention and I’m used to it. So, I expect it. And I’m different. I’m an artist. I live my existence unpredictably therefore, I’m a conundrum to people...a puzzle. They can’t pigeonhole me. I’m slippery.

I’ve tried to fit into boxes. Even as an artist. I’ve tried for iconic. These days, I want to capture what my eyes see more widely, enlarge the picture. Iconic is great- it is simple, it provides an immediate bang to the brain. Larger life is more complex. It requires deeper introspection.

So, as I drove to the pool this morning, the sky called me. From my windshield, with the radio on, passing the neighbor’s houses, the trees beyond which Puget Sound lies placid, I shot the moment with my iPhone. It is not iconic, yet in a sense, in its complexity, it is, somewhat, if you give it time...

At the pool, I wear a bikini or two-piece. I have done this all my life, inspired to do so by Italian women I saw on the beaches in my 20s – even heavy women, with drooping bellies, and large bottoms. Their freedom to let their bodies feel as much sun as possible while they walked with swaggers gave me life-long permission that I could do it as I aged, too.

At my age, 74, I’m still in relatively good shape. I have a belly, and I have wrinkles, and pocked thighs but I don’t care. I still feel like I’m 20, or 40 or even 65. The lifeguard this morning was a beautiful young man. In the old days, he’d be called “strapping,” which I’m unsure what it means. I should look it up on Google. He eyed me, as men do at the pool.

I stayed aware of his eyes on me because I don’t swim anymore like a normal lap swimmer. It is because of my torn rotator cuffs. I swim unpredictably, using my arms in various positions to strengthen other muscles and not worsen my condition. I even swim backwards. I even float on my back and kick. I am like a porpoise or a whale. I glide and duck and breast stroke with one arm stronger than the other. I don’t even do the same thing for the whole length of the pool. I dance in the pool as I swim, shimmy, stretch my head backwards on my back and look upside down under the water at all the bodies in the pool in other lanes. I must look crazy to the lifeguards as they watch me. It takes effort not to be aware of them as I relish being buoyed by the water, feeling the silkiness of it, feeling my leg bend like a ballet dancer and my toe touch down gentle. If people look at me from the back, they might see the shiny silver box hanging from the back of my suit, notice how the white cord plugged into it slips up my neck into my ears. They might realize I’m listening to music, they might understand I’m having an ecstatic time, being the only one in the big hot tub, in my own little world in the big hot-tub, floating on my back, my eyes closed, my face in repose, my left hand positioned to protect my head should the whirlpools swish me too close to a side.

As I climbed the steps of the hot-tub, put on my flip flops, and walked away to the showers, I passed the lifeguard, who I knew had been watching me. We smiled at each other.

For more understanding of my life as a photographer, here is an 8 minute video for your entertainment!

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