About That Corporate Video

Witnessing my sister give birth to her daughter, standing alone by a gargoyle after climbing the circling tower stairs in Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, turning the corner at the Accademia in Florence and seeing Michelangelo’s David in the light - these are peak moments of wonder and rapture in my life.

I cried each time, I think, because I felt profoundly moved by what I saw, and so separated from it.  I was a part of what I viewed only as an audience is part of a play. 

Being unable to give birth to a child as a young woman has affected me as a mature woman in ways I cannot know.  That ultimate moment of being human, of bringing forth something from nothing, from being a part of the creation of existence, I have not had and I do not know.

When I announced that my company would have a film made by a media production company, I termed it a “corporate video” with a “corporate message.” 

Looking back, even then I think I knew it was otherwise, or more, to me.

I asked a musician friend to create a song.  Into silence, with who he is and with his art, he brought forth music and words.  Into seeing, I asked the media production company’s founder to take the song and direct and create a film from who he is and with his art.  I didn’t supervise.  I let go.  

I had a part in the play.

When the film was ready, I hesitated to view it alone and wanted to wait for the public premiere to be shoulder-to-shoulder with colleagues and friends.  Looking back, I think I was afraid I would break open from its beauty.

Urged by almost all to see the film before a public viewing, including by the film’s director, I relented. 

I broke.  My husband held me. 

I adopted a little cat from a shelter in Tampa. Stroking her one day, I was filled with awe at her presence and, without thought, said, “You are perfect.”

At the public premiere, I cried.  My sister cried.

Look at the little video in the YouTube box.

It’s perfect.