Godmama Says…
a buncha stuff.


When I started this journey about a year and a half ago, I had very little idea what a long, complicated and deeply emotional trip  it would be.

Yesterday was our final day of filming.   Production of RAIN is officially wrapped and post-production can begin in earnest.   I cried and laughed and cried some more and then slept harder last night than I have in a very long time.   I’ve been so anxious and excited to get to this point, and now that I’m here I keep thinking: Is it really over?

Sitting here staring at the screen.
My brain is full of thoughts and my heart is absolutely exploding with feelings– but I am at a loss as to how to get them onto this page in a way that might convey just what those feelings are.  I gotta try to blog it out though, because I’m having too many emotions all at once and it’s making me loco.

About a 18 months ago I set out on a quest to find the right people to help me bring something very special to life.  In finding Zane Rutledge, who brought with him his crew mates Jeff Stolhand and Matt Joyce, I got so much more than what I even knew I was looking for.

The journey that we have been on together, this process of visualization and creation and production has been an exhilarating,  scary,  stormy, fantastic, awesome ride.
In so many ways, the process for me has been exactly like a pregnancy:   creating and waiting… and waiting and waiting.   For me that metaphor carries some dark clouds and anxiety with it of course and so this particular journey has been an active struggle with my own PTSD issues.

For one thing this is a creation that has meant more to me than anything else I have ever done, other than That One Thing.   All the time that it has taken us to get to this point has given me time to fall deeper and deeper in love with the project and the character.    When you put your whole heart into any one thing, it becomes dangerously easy for your heart be broken.   All my energy has been wrapped up in this project for the past 17 or 18 months, and as such it has made it hard for me to focus on much else in the meantime.
The very definition of ‘obsession’.

Sometimes I get lost in the character and her story.  Deliriously swept away and lost in the Storm.

You see RAIN is, in every way,  my baby.   The production team I am so lucky to have connected with has taken such loving care of this precious project, and elevated it into something mighty.   Post production means there is a lot more work to be done, but at this stage of the creation’s growth, at least I know for sure that ‘my baby’ will be born.  Soon.
That deceptively simple truth means more to my soul than anyone can possibly know.

I was going to try to give some lovely note of thanks to my Main Three RainMakers individually here,   but I’m still stumped for words and every time I think of how grateful I am to each of them I just melt into tears again.   I’ll get there… but for now I’ll just say that I love these guys like family and the gratitude I have for them comes from the deepest brightest places in my crazy stormy heart.

The RAINmakers: Director Jeff Stolhand, Producer Matt Joyce, (me), Director Zane Rutledge

The RAINmakers: Director Jeff Stolhand, Producer Matt Joyce, (me), Director Zane Rutledge

Zane, Jeff, Matt and all the rest of our massively talented cast and crew:  I am beyond blessed to have had the honor to work with all of you.  I hope that in some small way I have been able to make you as proud as you have made me.  I hope that the work I did helps your work to shine,  the way that your effort and dedication is making my little passion play into an actual blast of lightning.

And to all of our new friends and supporters who are following along and waiting for the RAIN to drop:  I am endlessly grateful to all of you and hope to make you proud, too.

Just wait til you see what we have in store for you.
Brace Yourselves.




I have a vivid memory of what the weather was like exactly three years ago.  It was just like it is today.
On December 14th, 2011, it was grey and drizzly all day long.  As the day went on it started to rain in earnest, and it didn’t stop for days and days.

The 14th was the day I was checked into the maternity ward at Seton Hospital to deliver my son.
It wasn’t how the day was supposed to go.  I was supposed to go see a movie with a co-worker…  something light hearted about a boy who lived inside a clock, which I thought was appropriate since I had a boy living inside my clock.   I never saw the movie.   What was meant to be a quick trip to the doctor’s office beforehand turned into the beginning of a descent into hell.

Mid-December and the maternity ward was a cheery, happy place.  Sparkling lights and colorful trees and people singing happy birthday and holiday carols all at once to their new little miracles.  So many Christmas songs are about a mother and child and a magic star.  Funny how quickly I grew to despise them all.


footprints and stardust in a heart shaped box

Orion Xavier Jamil Glick was born still on the morning of Thursday December 15.

By the time I left the hospital a couple days later- empty arms, empty belly, and with a dark cold storm beginning to rage in the hole where my heart had been torn out- it was raining.

It rained and rained and rained.
I remember thinking how fitting it was that the sky wept so pitifully right along with me as we drove home from the hospital.  I felt a kinship with that sorry skywater.   Granted:  it’s winter in Texas, so it rains a lot.  But that rain was mine.  That rain was for me and Orion.  That rain was for my boy.

I have always loved the rain,  and I love that it’s so rainy today.  This, too, is my rain.
It’s like the sky paying tribute to the powerful grief I still quietly carry.  When the anniversary of a birth is not at all a “happy birthday” but you still want to honor the day somehow… nothing better than quiet and rain.
Sometimes I feel the new strength I have developed for myself with the unending support of my beautiful husband Adam, the hard work I have put into rebuilding myself at Elite Martial Arts, and the love of so many understanding friends;  and other times… like the sky,  I just go dark and let the water fall as hard as it can.
Sometimes the clouds that patch up the massive wounds inside me crack open and the storm comes.   Later, the heavens will clear up and pay a more fitting tribute as the brightest constellation in the heavens spells his name across the night sky,  and the part of me that still needs to believe in something like heaven will reach out to touch him somehow.

Later still,  I will give birth to another great creation:  and it is no accident that it happens to be called RAIN.  Written for, inspired by and even secretly named in tribute to my greatest love and my deepest heartache.
Rain always passes.  Skies always clear.  I will grow stronger and live whatever life I have left as powerfully as I can in his name and my own….
But a mother never forgets.

Sleep in heavenly peace, my beloved starchild.

*A drawing I did the week after he was born  (top),  and a painting I did a year later (bottom).  A little less than another year later, I wrote a script…

born   bornagain


darkness blows in swirling fast
a backdrop for the lightning blast
cloaked in robes of rolling wind
the sky Herself starts to descend
perfect horrifying wonder
blast of light and crash of thunder
wind explodes from everywhere
as from volcanoes made of air
others fled when she unfurled
but I’ve grown weary of this world
so while they hide and sound alarms
I greet the storm with open arms
I’ll stand firm like a lightning rod
and stare into the eye of God
and with another lightning blast
I’ve vanished when the storm has passed



Last week I had the magically thrilling opportunity to meet interstellar trailblazer Nichelle Nichols (also known as the original Lieutenant  Uhura) in the flesh.   Considering all that has been going on with me of late, my first excited impulse was that I would of course meet her dressed in my costume from RAIN.   Then I remembered that there was also (naturally) a replica of Uhura’s red minidress uniform hanging in my closet.  With a gasp of greatness the once in a lifetime moment of geek perfection materialized in my brain:  I would dress as Storm dressed as Uhura!   I exploded with delight and laughter at the thought of it.  A friend who was listening to me have this revelation out loud scoffed a bit and said. “Why don’t you just go as yourself?”


How do you even begin to explain…
I never really feel the need to explain myself or alter my ideas for people like that, so I didn’t at the time… I just scoffed in return and went about my business.    Good thing, because THIS happened:


But thinking about it later on made me even prouder of the work I’m doing with RAIN and why it feels so damn good to bring that character to life…. and how “playing dress-up”, as others may see it, IS being myself.

Those two characters, Ororo and Uhura– those two women– are absolutely a part of how the world has been shaped and reshaped so that I CAN be who I am.   Being able to inhabit and pay tribute to both characters at once… as a performer — which is also who I am– is a priceless treasure AND pure artistic greatness AND a very personal tribute to the trailblazing icon space queen I was about to be able to shake hands with.   It was the thank you I  was completely unable to say properly with words when the time came and my tongue tied itself into a useless knot.

What my friend and most others must see as playing dress-up to me is absolutely being myself.   Channeling some other parts of myself, like a shaman wrapping up in furs and painting her face to call on some wild animal spirits, only a thousand percent nerdier.

It came up again today.    This weekend the big Comic Con comes to Austin.   I’ve been excited like a kid about going of course.  Production of the film has slowed and I’ve been aching like a  junkie for a chance to climb into character again.   I’m a performer,   RAIN is my song,  and for right now something like Comic Con is a perfect stage to play on for a couple days.    I’m also unemployed at the moment however,  and the question was raised as to whether or not there was any inherent value in my “spending all that money” to walk around playing dress-up.    Unemployment is a scary place and it’s pretty easy to feel guilty and doubtful about where your money is going and why.    I went for a walk and vented out some tears of frustration and by the time I got home a dear friend had hooked me up with free entry to the weekend’s geektivities.   The “spending all that money” bit of the problem was solved so I didn’t have to care about whatever the rest of it was anymore.

I know who I am,   and I typically don’t give a shit if it makes sense to anyone else or not.
The season is new,   my life is changing,   and right now I am unemployed and unsure of exactly where my next stable footing will be,   so it’s easier to be pushed into insecurity for a minute.     Just for a minute though.   And during those times  I can slip into some leather duds,  clip the big white mohawk onto my hair like a crown and leave the insecurity behind and escape into the Storm.


There’s a tension in the air just before a hard rain.   That tension always gives me a headache.  It’s like the whole world is holding it’s breath trying not to scream and cry… but it needs to.  It really, really needs to just let it out.

People love the sunshine of summertime,  but where does the relentless heat always drive us?    To the water.   To pools and beaches and lakes, and if we can’t get to those we just turn on the sprinklers and revel in the respite of artificial precipitation.    We seek out the relief of shade because we miss the shelter of the clouds,  and we seek the relief of water because we crave the rain.
Blue skies are beautiful and the light of sunshine brings out all the lovely colors of life;  but by the end of an unforgiving Texas summer,   sometimes I just want the sky to cry.

I’ve been having a pretty heavy relapse into grieving and depression this week.  Among other things,  the sudden (and likely violent) loss of my beloved Sheena-kitty reopened and irritated the permanent gash in my spirit that the loss of my son left.   When your heart has fallen apart enough times,  eventually it doesn’t take a whole lot to cause it to crumble again unexpectedly.    You can always put it back together,  but sometimes  it just needs to get dark and rain for a while.
Friends shine their light at you in whatever ways they know how,   telling you to focus on the positive and pray or smile it all away.   (“Pull yourself up by the bootstraps!”  People still really say that.  To me.)    That’s when sunlight just burns and leaves blisters.   When you have been in drought conditions and the sun has dried you out and there are wildfires rampant and causing more destruction,    more sunshine isn’t the answer.

Waves of grief come and they eventually pass,  but sometimes…just sometimes…. they linger and burn.

I want to burrow inside the comfort of a cloud, curl up like an embryo and feel it rumble to life around me.
I want all the colors and light and dark to wash away into a swirl of blank, cool grey.
I want to hear the hush and the rush of life giving skywater pouring from cracks in the heavens and cleansing the earth.
And then  I want the release of the rage.  
I want the awesome display of the sky itself throwing electric fire across itself and screaming “YES your pain is real and THIS is what it looks like when a heart breaks.”
I want to get sucked up into the vortex of the sky’s own fury and then refreshed in the cleansing deluge of a tempest.

Yeah the sun will come out tomorrow,   but right now let it rain.
Let it fucking storm.

Don’t hold back, sky.
Summer is ending– let the rain fall.
I dare you.

5-Grey Clouds


[Disclaimer:  I’m sick this week, so this may well be the result of NyQuil induced delirium, or it may be a stroke of genius… or both.]

I watched the Dark Crystal for like the 4 thousandth time yesterday and woke up this morning with a massive nerd epiphany.

At the end of the Dark Crystal,  (spoiler alert if you’re wasting your life and somehow haven’t seen the Henson masterpiece several hundred times yet) the Skeksis and the Mystics become one again.  Jen is cradling Kira who is kinda dead but not really, and the main dude says  “Hold her to you, she is part of you as we are all part of each other…”
That part always gets me all emo,   and this time I found myself thinking “We… are… GROOT” because the sentiment matched…
and THEN it occured to me that those dudes are TOTALLY Groot!  They have, like, tree hands and a tree face.

GO LOOK. THOSE ARE GROOT’S PEOPLE!!!! Groot is one of the Dark Crystal higher beings!!!!




I had to look it up, they’re called UrSkeks.

And… wasn’t that basically a shard of the Dark Crystal they were fighting over in Guardians??

You’re welcome.



My name is Sheena and I am a transdimensional space kitty.
I thought this was obvious, but apparently I need to explain.

A couple weeks ago,  from the perspective of my peoplepets,  I “disappeared”.

Peoplepets are silly creatures… stubborn and hard to train.    Somecats don’t even believe that peoplepets have feelings or souls at all if you can believe that,  so they don’t even try to communicate with them.   My people were special, though.  I know everycat says that, but really– my people were unusually smart and I talked to them all the time.   I even tried very hard to show them the gateways to the OtherNow…

…but they do have those big swollen heads way up in the air that make it hard for them to see.
They can’t see in the dark for one thing,   so they certainly can’t see into the OtherNow.   Tests have shown that they can really only see 2 or 3 dimensions, which is sad and makes it unbelievable that they can find their way around at all.

One day recently I came inside and let my She-person know that it would be time for me to go soon.   I may be projecting but I’m convinced she understood me most of the time…  this was just something she didn’t want to hear.    I sulked and pouted for two days because I knew I’d have to leave her alone,   and the poor dear is very dependent on me.    She is one of those pets who doesn’t socialize well with other pets,  but she loved to be with me.    We  really were the  best of friends.


When I originally found her she was terribly wounded on the inside and sick in the soul because she had recently lost a cub.   She would howl and shiver and I would try to clean her face of all that salty eyewater.   I kept a close eye on her to make sure she was alright and eventually she howled less and her face didn’t leak so much.   She treated me just like I was her very own cub and that made both of us feel nice.
So the day I found out that there was a badbeastie prowling around near our den,  I ran inside to let them know.    I vocalized with new words,  I pointed and hid, I did everything I could to spell out for them the universal signs for DANGER.   No one understood.  Not even She.   So the last time I went out to play,  yes– I did see the badbeastie… but it didn’t end like their sad little minds think it did.   I just slipped through one of my secret portals to the OtherNow where the badbeasties can’t go. Ever.

Lots of peoplepets tell each other stories about how their CatMasters got “lost” for a long time before finding their way home weeks or months later.  It’s a simplistic and  arrogant mythology they create so they don’t have to acknowledge our advanced dimension hopping capabilities.   They would rather imagine that we’re actually lost somewhere in the bushes than believe that we leave the planet itself from time to time.     This misunderstanding  leaves them so sad and confused… wandering around calling out our names in the entirely wrong universe when they could easily just wiggle through the obvious gash in time which exists in the back of all their sock drawers to find the far superior OtherNow.
Their big swollen brains might not be able to take it over here, though.  Not enough chatter or little light up hand screens.   Not enough speeding thunderboxes spewing skydirt.   Just lots of quiet, and playtime, and naps… and grasshoppers.

Maybe I will make my way back one day, but probably not.    My poor She-person is probably a mess feeling like she lost another cub.

She is no doubt howling and shivering herself to sleep like she did not long ago when she lost her tinyperson.   That’s hard for her little brainheart,  she’s only human.     I’d feel bad for her but we don’t really do that over here.  There is no bad.  Lots of grasshoppers though.


Peoplepets are oblivious barking monkeys for the most part,  but mine were truly special.   Please look out for them if you see them around.    Make sure they are getting plenty of water and playtime.   The silly creatures actually forget to do that on their own if you don’t remind them.  Remarkable that they continue to thrive without our constant supervision.


How can I express the explosions of gratitude in my soul right now?
Let me try by starting from the beginning. Bear with me, RainMakers.  I want to show you my heart.

This is the first page of the Uncanny Xmen “Lifedeath” series.  It’s also my very favorite piece of artwork.


Here we see the most powerful of all the X-men in a state of defeat and vulnerability.  She is sporting the mohawk but she hardly seems fierce.  She is crumpled, weak, and feeling sorry for herself for losing her “super”powers.
The caption above it says, “Once upon a time, there was a woman who could fly.”

In so many ways, it’s an image of exactly where I was about 2 and a half years ago:  at the beginning of a difficult and dark journey from pain to power.  It’s the journey that led me here to you:

In December of 2011 I was 6 months pregnant with my first child.  He was stillborn… just in time for Christmas.  His name was Orion Xavier Jamil.   To say that I was devastated would be the greatest understatement of all time.  Refer back to the drawing:  that was me for at least 5 months solid.  It was a time when I wanted to be with my son, and he was dead.  I had to “chin up” publicly and go back to work and “move on”… but I didn’t want to move at all.  I had no idea how I would survive the pain I was in and secretly I wouldn’t have minded if one day I just didn’t wake up at all.
But I was also really angry.  People kept telling me to try therapy,  but I didn’t want to talk- I wanted to run and punch and kick shit. So at the end of June 2012 I signed myself up for seriously intense martial arts training.   Completely out of shape both physically and mentally and with no idea what I was doing, I still loved it there.  It was an escape,  it was release,  and over time through sweat and dedication it became my path to rebirth and strength.   I still hurt for my son,  but I was getting strong enough to deal with it and start rebuilding my massively damaged spirit.

I went through a transformation.  I still had my sadness and rage over what happened.   I guess I always will.  I carry it around inside me like… well, like a storm.   But I developed the strength to change that stormy energy from something that consumed me into something that powered me.   That is the story I have been dying to share in one way or another,   and I kept going back to the Lifedeath image for inspiration.

The image of a woman who seems to have lost hope may not seem very inspiring at first glance,  but at the moment of my life when I rediscovered that image I recognized myself.   Recognizing yourself in the image of a superhero when you’re at your lowest point- even if it’s a picture of HER lowest point- can be quite an empowering thing.
We have all fallen.  We have all been in the dark,  and I think the most difficult and most heroic battle of all is the one we have to fight against our own demons and darkness.
I came to love that first page of Lifedeath so dearly.  It was a beautifully drawn reminder that even the mightiest can fall, but more importantly even the most fallen can rise and fly again.

A little over a year ago I started to write a story of transformation and rebirth with that drawing as the inspiration.   That story eventually became RAIN.  I wanted to bring that fallen heroine to life.   And with your help, I have:


**The story in the film is NOT the Lifedeath story, it is an original… but I wanted to recreate this image- the catalyst and muse for the project- and pay tribute to my favorite piece of art, my favorite superhero, and all of you.

My original vision of this project was much smaller,  but the waves of support and excitement  swelled up around it like thunder clouds and lifted RAIN up to a much higher place.

Because of you, a dream is coming true. Not just mine, but a shared dream that so many of you have chosen to invest and believe in along with me.
Because of you, we are going to be able to give new life to a force of nature who so many love and hunger to see repowered for so many different reasons.
Because of you,  a different voice will be heard.  Maybe only for a moment, but because of you that moment will shine so much brighter and the voice will ring with so much more power than I could ever have given it on my own.

It may seem like a simple gesture but when you choose to give your money and energy and excitement to something NEW, something independently made from the heart, something that NEEDS your support, you are planting seeds of life and light in a place where they are desperately needed.   Whether it’s eating at the locally owned diner instead of the chain restaurant,  buying handmade jewelry from an artist at a street fair instead of at the mall, or supporting an indie film on kickstarter- you absolutely rock for making that choice.   You give power to things with your attention and your cash.  And so many of you have decided to give that power to this humble little project.
Because of you the fallen warrior will rise and fly again.

Be proud to be part of this creation.  This film is going to be powerfully awesome,  that is a guarantee.

Everyone involved from the directors Zane and Jeff to our producer Matt to the stuntguys and actors and composers… EVERYONE involved is a skilled and dedicated pro, and more importantly everyone involved is doing this from the heart.   We are all so excited to get to work and deliver the magic to you.   We will NOT let you down,  we will blow you away.

Know that this film IS my baby,  and it is too important to me to let it be anything but perfect.   We are going to work our asses off in the next couple months to create a work of surprising beauty and power that we can all be proud of.

We are still going to be tight budgeted considering how wildly ambitious the story and production design have become,  so your continued support is appreciated in these last few days of the Kickstarter.  The more we raise the more resources we have access to, the more time we can spend to get things right, and the higher the production value will be.
Thank you from my entire heart for getting us this far.

I owe you my soul.
With the coming of RAIN, I will deliver it.

Love & Lightning and endless gratitude,
Maya G.



Last night there was a severe storm here in Austin.
The alert on my phone said “EXTREME THREAT. SEEK SHELTER NOW.”  
I didn’t see that warning til hours later though, because I was outside in it.

I sat on a log in my backyard staring up at the light show awestruck with tears running down my face.  
The dome of the  night sky above me was flashing wildly with different shapes and patterns and blasts of brightness in and around the clouds.  Dark greys and endless black would flash suddenly with patches of silver, blue,  purple, and stark white.   My eyes couldn’t get wide enough as they searched the dark sky wondering where the next series of flashes would appear.  The lightbursts played in patterns that seemed to be communicating something…. like watching loud music that had no sound,  as if some kind of massive alien spacecraft was powering up just behind the veil. 

Then suddenly streams of lightning would arc across the whole sky like a electric rainbows and then disappear faster than I could express my startled amazement.   Why the streets weren’t packed with other teary-eyed sky watchers was far beyond me.  Look UP, people.  Look UP!

It was like being inside a nebula, watching the creation of a star.   Like being able to float into deep space or sneak a peek back in time and witness the creation of our own world.
I always imagined that something like flashing nebulous stormclouds are what an infant can see when it is kicking to life about to be born.   Electric impulses at the inception of life,  rumbling power surges behind the sealed eyelids of the unborn or the dying.   (Thus another gift I get from a storm is that I can watch the flashing clouds and feel like I’m sharing a secret with my son.    Look UP, Mama… See what I saw.)

Blinding light, then blinding darkness, then blinding light again- flashing signals in erratic patterns.   Electric fire in the air while water falls to the earth.   Clouds, light, dark, light, power, nothing,  blast, nothing,  light, light, FLASH,  power… and cracks in the sky giving away the blinding simplicity of of the entire universe.  
Light and dark, All and Nothing clashing and dancing together like ones and zeroes,  breaking down the math and revealing everything.



Today, people pause to remember fallen heroes.
I remember mine every single day of my life.

Summer is coming and Orion is hidden from the night skies for a while,   and yet I see  the hunter warrior of the heavens everywhere and feel his presence all the time.

No one other than me ever knew my kid, but he remains the unforgettable love of my life.   I knew through dreams what his beautiful face would look like,  I knew he was clever and silly,  I knew he’d have boundless energy like his father,  and I knew that his laugh was like a shock of birdsongs.    But  a hero?   Mythology teaches us that a hero needs a journey,  and how could a boy who died before he was born have passed any of life’s tests?

He was healthy when he died, but in the cruelest of ironies he was strangled by the very cord meant to sustain him and feed him life. “Just bad luck,” said the doctor as I wept inconsolably and  tried to scream the entire universe away.   Surely such a ridiculous injustice would drive a soul to become a fighter and seek the recompense of a chance at a  fiercely lived life?   If there is such a thing as a soul… perhaps.

I don’t know what I believe anymore as far as souls go.   I understand how the faithful find solace in their beliefs, knowing that their departed loved ones are “waiting”  for them somewhere.   I was told so many times that my precious boy was taken by divine hands to a better place,   but as a mother all I could  hear is that my child was taken,   which is more infuriating than comforting.   And as for a “better place” I know for an endlessly painful fact that there is no better place for an infant than in his mother’s arms.
Fuck working in mysterious ways–  if I believed that anyone or anything took my child away from me to any place, then I would tear the skies apart to find this thief and burn that place to the fucking ground.

So no,   I can’t believe in heaven the way that many want me to,   even though his name is written across the night sky… but I do know that a child exists forever  in their mother not just emotionally or metaphorically~ but literally;  biochemically;  cellularly.    Really.

You are a different being once you have created a new life, and your body itself remains the heaven where that echo of another life exists for as long as you do.

After my son died, for a long time I didn’t want to live at all.  I wanted to go with him to whatever this “place” was where people said he was alive and well.   My body-mind-soul-broken-heart screamed out “where is my baby?”  and the words kept coming: “he’s in a better place“.  I wanted to be in that place too.

But then there was a dramatic shift in who I am and just how brightly I wanted my fire to burn.
I am the better place.
It was as if some back up power source kicked in and pushed me onto the path of a warrior.
Was this force my own?  Probably.
I choose to give that force a name-  the name he would have carried with him throughout his own hero’s journey:
Orion Xavier Jamil Glick.

And I will love him with all the might of my burning stormy heart forever and ever.

Cheers, my dear.  This life’s for you.



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