Small Start

Small Start, Big Future

1986: I graduated from Lake High School in Uniontown, Ohio, the same high school my mom and dad attended. By the age of 14, I was suffocating in the waters of the small town fish bowl.

I earned straight A’s, played basketball on a great team, mastered the trombone and earned a Presidential Scholarship to St. John Fisher College in Rochester, New York.

I left for college, headed for the “big city” in my small town brain.

I had a plan. A big plan. My theme song was “Big Time,” by Peter Gabriel.

 

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Bachelor of Arts

Bachelor of Arts, Magna Cum Laude, English/Education
St. John Fisher College, Rochester, New York, 1990

I enrolled as a pre-med student at Fisher and had my eye on a career in surgery. On the docket: find a cure for cancer and win a Nobel Prize.

First year physiology, I vomited when I started my cat dissection. And chemistry made my head hurt. And my fruit flies escaped the genetics lab. And I didn’t give a rat’s ass about MCAT strategy.

I changed majors to English with a concentration in writing. It was a difficult phone call to my parents. Winning the Clarence Amann Award for Excellence in Senior English four years later didn’t change mom and dad’s mind. I had downgraded to a lesser, ordinary degree.

On my end, I had discovered the power and sensuality of words. My love affair with writing and story-telling took flight.

 

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My Real Major

A little honesty here. At the age of 18, I bled basketball. The hardwood floor was my home. No other activity, hobby, love affair has gripped my heart like the game of basketball. Trust me, I’ve looked.

My frosh season I averaged two minutes a game on a team ranked in the top ten nationally. Translation: I had thirty-eight minutes every game to pick splinters out of my ass.

College basketball and pre-med did not mix. Yes, I hated the pre-med track. But more importantly, I chose basketball as my real major.

For two years I started as the team’s point guard. My senior year, we played in the 1990 Division III National Championship.

 

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Master of Divinity

Master of Divinity, with Distinction, Theology
Colgate Rochester Divinity School, Rochester, New York, 1995

I started talking to God when I was 13. A one-sided conversation really. I begged God to save my Uncle Frank, who was dying of leukemia at the age of 38. God stayed silent. My uncle died. I put God on notice. I wanted answers.

A friend introduced me to the Southern Baptist doctrine of God’s “master plan.” I latched on with both hands, relieved to hear that good people die for a reason, and I didn’t need to know Why.

Through high school and college, my religion sustained me, kept me focused. I felt called to take that strength of faith to the next level: the M.Div. program at CRDS, alma mater to Martin Luther King, Jr.

I had a new plan. I officially began seminary, on-track to be an ordained minister in the Christian church. On this new agenda: change the world.

CRDS prided itself on excavating the student’s core beliefs. If I were truly called to lead, I had to anchor my convictions in a faith that withstood the test of honest and excruciating self-reflection.

By the end of my first course in theology, the cracks in my Christian foundation were exposed. I pulled off the ordination track. I flailed. I committed to finishing the degree because I didn’t know what else to do.

My spirit searched for roots. The universe answered.

With the help of several extraordinary teachers, I discovered the Black Madonna, Taoism, Buddhism, Wicca. I studied with Malidoma Patrice Some, an African shaman from Burkina Faso. I met the Holy Sister on the banks of the Orinoco River. I dreamed with my ancestors and danced with spirit guides. I visited worlds and realms where my western reality was stretched and redefined.

I accepted my degree in 1995 knowing that an energy much larger and wiser than me was now in charge.

I resisted the urge to name and thus, qualify that energy, but for the first time in my life, I felt the presence of the Sacred–in its unconditional acceptance and enduring compassion–in both my heart and in the world around me.

And this time, the Mystery could withstand my need to ask Why and How.

 

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USC 1999

Master of Fine Arts, Film Production
University of Southern California, School of Cinema-Television, Los Angeles, California, 1999

I was 8 years old when I saw the film, Rocky. 11 when Star Wars premiered. 16 when I bought the soundtracks to Footloose and Purple Rain and wore the cassette tapes out trying to memorize the lyrics.

All films that spoke to me about redemption, forgiveness, prophecy, resurrection, salvation and the epic battle of good versus evil.

Like me, many in Generation X looked to the new venue of communication—mass media—for how to make sense of our world. Television, film and music taught us what mattered. We were the first generation to learn how to live from the sermons of mass-produced entertainment.

In seminary, my master’s thesis examined this cultural theology and explored the unique intersection where popular media stands in conversation with the religious and spiritual trek.

But I wanted more. I wanted to help shape the conversation.

Film school provided a perfect setting for weaving together my spiritual journey, creative fervor and sacred texts. It was three of the most creative and energetic years of my life.

At USC, I focused on directing, screenwriting and sound design, and worked as an assistant director, music engineer, and re-recording mixer on more than fifty student projects. My thesis film, Intimate Colors, explores the emotional and spiritual reasons women get tattoos.

Yes, I made another plan. It included an Academy Award and a pool.

 

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