Kool and the Gang - Get down on it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qchPLaiKocI
--------------------------
I was riding the bus, and in comes this Persian guy, greeting everyone, "Hello! Salam!" He moved to the back of the bus near me, talking and talking about God, love, Sufism, and self to a 17 year old girl. I was giggling so hard. I love this stuff. People on the bus preach the truth, even when they don't mean to. I was sitting next to a lady who knew him from elsewhere; she had enough of him before he entered the bus and could hardly conceal her annoyance.
But listen to this - as he talked and talked about God, more people around him began to talk. Some of them, like the lady next to me, did it in a way to join forces against his bubbling personality. But all the same, they were talking. Perhaps it was due to my perspective, but I swear that I've never seen a happier and more communicative bus. This is God's work. I understand now. His perspicacity pervaded throughout, and though the lady would never have admitted to being under his influence, how obviously she was! That guy was like a rock chucked into a hornets' nest. That stone moves the world.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
tango at the Luxe Milonga.
I got all dressed up and went out dancing last night. My tango has started to feel good in the past two weeks. It occurred after two incidences. I was dancing with Brenda at Valentango, and she made a little comment about leading pivots - it had to do with shaping and engaging the lower abdomen. Suddenly pivots were clear and grounded. Then at a yoga class last week with a teacher named Todd, I started to feel the lengthening of the spine and the suspension of the body. (These are the same issue.)
The body must actively seek the ground, and actively seek the sky. This creates a feeling of suspension to replace the feeling of weight and falling. Now I feel how dancers such as the Nicholas Brothers or Fred Astaire moved so lightly. This also pulls the pressure off my knees, hips, and back. And best of all, it's let me start to play with footwork in tango without affecting my partner. Ahh, freedom.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Death, Life, and Ikiru
That time of year thou mayest in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon thouse boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
Shakespeare, Sonnet 73
-----------------------------------
Words of Rumi:
There is one thing in this world you must never forget to do. If you forget everything else and not this, there's nothing to worry about, but if you remember everything else and forget this, then you will have done nothing in your life.
It's as if a king has sent you to some country to do a task, and you perform a hundred other services, but not the one he sent you to do. So human beings come to this world to do particular work. That work is the purpose, and each is specific to the person. If you don't do it, it's as though a priceless Indian sword were used to slice rotten meat. It's a golden bowl being used to cook turnips, when one filing from the bowl could buy a hundred suitable pots. It's like a knife of the finest tempering nailed into a wall to hang things on.
You say, "But look, I'm using it. It's not lying idle." Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? For a penny an iron nail could be bought. You say, "but I spend my energies on lofty projects. I study philosophy and jurisprudence, logic, astronomy, and medicine." But consider why you do those things. They are all branches of yourself and your impressiveness.
Remember the deep root of your being, the presence of your lord. Give yourself to the one who already owns your breath and your moments. If you don't, you'll be like the man who takes a ceremonial dagger and hammers it into a post for a peg to hold his dipper gourd. You'll be wasting valuable keenness and forgetting your dignity and purpose.
----------------------------------
"Ikiru is a cinematic expression of modern existentialist thought. It consists of a restrained affirmation within the context of a giant negation. What it says in starkly lucid terms is that 'life' is meangless when everything is said and done; at the same time, one man's life can acquire meaning when he undertakes to perform some task that to him is meaningful. What everyone else thinks about that man's life is utterly beside the point, even ludicrous. The meaning of his life is what he commits the meaning of his life to be. There is nothing else."
-Richard Brown on Akira Kurosawa's Ikiru
----------------------------------
I had one of my best yoga classes ever today. I went to the new studio, and although I did not go to class with the male teacher yet, I assume this class was in the same style. It was a slow class - probably slower than I would want in my regular practice, but that gave me time to focus. the entire class included small stretches designed to work up to trikonasana. It's a beautiful posture. It's a hip opener, a spine lengthener, a twisting motion. In most yoga classes, I am pushing harder into the stretch to get maximum benefit (or something...) Everything was so slow in this class: we took such time to focus and relax into postures that I had a large release in my lower back when leaving class. This simply goes to show how all our actions are energetic. Somehow when I stretch harder and deeper, without the requisite focus, breath, and forgiveness, I loosen my muscles, but it's not the same. In reference to this type of yoga, I have heard twice now: Do no violence (even towards the self). What I was doing in all that slow time before the final posture was finding my center - slowly identifying and communicating with it. Once that is done, I am ready for the pose. But before, it's all superficial movement.
I see this phenomenon in the dance as well. We move, we explode, but in all this time, we have not connected with our center of movement. If we can't even take a simple step, how can we accomplish something more complicated? It can be a catch-22, because following this train of logic, how could we ever begin to dance? There are naturally differing schools of thought on this subject. I read once about a samurai school that made you practice nothing but the most basic strike for three straight years in order to gain entrance into the school. Only upon accomplishing this, without any missed days, was one ready. I think there's another way. We can certainly dance and live and search for our center along the way. The problem, however, seems to be that we forget our search in our desire to get to the living or dancing or fighting. We lose our focus, and suddenly we are left with lots of movement - lots of noise, but where is the essence? Then we look around and wonder how we have been surpassed by those we used to think little of.
The essence of action is intention. But what intention? We live to eat and work. What can we possibly intend to do? I can't answer this, but it certainly has to do with the relation between life and death. I hear of people who really live their lives once diagnosed with terminal cancer or something. It's a common theme. What have these people realized? It seems to be the fragility of life. Once we understand this in our bones, something changes. What is that? How do we live differently when we know our death is stalking us?
Joseph Campbell notes that the hero must leave the path of the known. Dante begins his journey lost in a dark wood. It seems to me that to live, we must strike out on our own. We must find our "particular work" Rumi speaks of. We must leave behind the warnings of those who have never walked our path. Life is, in essence, newness. This newness is paradoxically the oldest thing in the world. For this reason, every story, opinion, and situation can shed light on our our predicaments, even if they can never speak to particulars. It's a big mystery and no mystery at all.
I'm going to figure it out. Every day I get closer. I can feel it. I'm doing the only thing I know how, and that must be the right thing. Everyone's got some path, and this is mine.
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon thouse boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
Shakespeare, Sonnet 73
-----------------------------------
Words of Rumi:
There is one thing in this world you must never forget to do. If you forget everything else and not this, there's nothing to worry about, but if you remember everything else and forget this, then you will have done nothing in your life.
It's as if a king has sent you to some country to do a task, and you perform a hundred other services, but not the one he sent you to do. So human beings come to this world to do particular work. That work is the purpose, and each is specific to the person. If you don't do it, it's as though a priceless Indian sword were used to slice rotten meat. It's a golden bowl being used to cook turnips, when one filing from the bowl could buy a hundred suitable pots. It's like a knife of the finest tempering nailed into a wall to hang things on.
You say, "But look, I'm using it. It's not lying idle." Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? For a penny an iron nail could be bought. You say, "but I spend my energies on lofty projects. I study philosophy and jurisprudence, logic, astronomy, and medicine." But consider why you do those things. They are all branches of yourself and your impressiveness.
Remember the deep root of your being, the presence of your lord. Give yourself to the one who already owns your breath and your moments. If you don't, you'll be like the man who takes a ceremonial dagger and hammers it into a post for a peg to hold his dipper gourd. You'll be wasting valuable keenness and forgetting your dignity and purpose.
----------------------------------
"Ikiru is a cinematic expression of modern existentialist thought. It consists of a restrained affirmation within the context of a giant negation. What it says in starkly lucid terms is that 'life' is meangless when everything is said and done; at the same time, one man's life can acquire meaning when he undertakes to perform some task that to him is meaningful. What everyone else thinks about that man's life is utterly beside the point, even ludicrous. The meaning of his life is what he commits the meaning of his life to be. There is nothing else."
-Richard Brown on Akira Kurosawa's Ikiru
----------------------------------
I had one of my best yoga classes ever today. I went to the new studio, and although I did not go to class with the male teacher yet, I assume this class was in the same style. It was a slow class - probably slower than I would want in my regular practice, but that gave me time to focus. the entire class included small stretches designed to work up to trikonasana. It's a beautiful posture. It's a hip opener, a spine lengthener, a twisting motion. In most yoga classes, I am pushing harder into the stretch to get maximum benefit (or something...) Everything was so slow in this class: we took such time to focus and relax into postures that I had a large release in my lower back when leaving class. This simply goes to show how all our actions are energetic. Somehow when I stretch harder and deeper, without the requisite focus, breath, and forgiveness, I loosen my muscles, but it's not the same. In reference to this type of yoga, I have heard twice now: Do no violence (even towards the self). What I was doing in all that slow time before the final posture was finding my center - slowly identifying and communicating with it. Once that is done, I am ready for the pose. But before, it's all superficial movement.
I see this phenomenon in the dance as well. We move, we explode, but in all this time, we have not connected with our center of movement. If we can't even take a simple step, how can we accomplish something more complicated? It can be a catch-22, because following this train of logic, how could we ever begin to dance? There are naturally differing schools of thought on this subject. I read once about a samurai school that made you practice nothing but the most basic strike for three straight years in order to gain entrance into the school. Only upon accomplishing this, without any missed days, was one ready. I think there's another way. We can certainly dance and live and search for our center along the way. The problem, however, seems to be that we forget our search in our desire to get to the living or dancing or fighting. We lose our focus, and suddenly we are left with lots of movement - lots of noise, but where is the essence? Then we look around and wonder how we have been surpassed by those we used to think little of.
The essence of action is intention. But what intention? We live to eat and work. What can we possibly intend to do? I can't answer this, but it certainly has to do with the relation between life and death. I hear of people who really live their lives once diagnosed with terminal cancer or something. It's a common theme. What have these people realized? It seems to be the fragility of life. Once we understand this in our bones, something changes. What is that? How do we live differently when we know our death is stalking us?
Joseph Campbell notes that the hero must leave the path of the known. Dante begins his journey lost in a dark wood. It seems to me that to live, we must strike out on our own. We must find our "particular work" Rumi speaks of. We must leave behind the warnings of those who have never walked our path. Life is, in essence, newness. This newness is paradoxically the oldest thing in the world. For this reason, every story, opinion, and situation can shed light on our our predicaments, even if they can never speak to particulars. It's a big mystery and no mystery at all.
I'm going to figure it out. Every day I get closer. I can feel it. I'm doing the only thing I know how, and that must be the right thing. Everyone's got some path, and this is mine.
how to save a life (Joseph Campbell)
"I have a firm belief in this now, not only in terms of my own experience, but in knowing about the experiences of other people. When you follow your bliss, and by bliss I mean the deep sense of being in it, and doing what the push is out of your own existence... you follow that, and doors will open where you would not have thought there were going to be doors, and where there wouldn't be a door for anybody else. There's something about the integrity of a life, and the world moves in and helps."
-Joseph Campbell
-Joseph Campbell
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
foundations
If I ever do make anything of myself, it will be due to one thing. I was never really good at anything. I wasn't strong, or particularly gifted in school. Never excelling in sports or games. I could make it through most everything beyond the median, but I was never the best. That wore on me as a kid. I always wanted to be the best at something, and I went through phases of practicing magic or playing basketball, but I never emerged as a prodigy of anything. Dancing was no different, and in fact, I was probably worse at dancing than most anything else. My first teachers tried to teach me to triple step for a long time. That was the hardest thing in the world for me.
Now I realize that I can turn my weakness into my greatest gift, and in fact, strength only comes out of weakness. As a child, I wanted to magically possess talent, but because the prodigy doesn't have to work, he cannot understand the struggle. The man who inherits money cannot understand the real value of that money. No matter what we are given, we are all spiritually weak until we forge ourselves. In asking to be talented, I was given nothing... and this may turn out to be my greatest gift.
Now I realize that I can turn my weakness into my greatest gift, and in fact, strength only comes out of weakness. As a child, I wanted to magically possess talent, but because the prodigy doesn't have to work, he cannot understand the struggle. The man who inherits money cannot understand the real value of that money. No matter what we are given, we are all spiritually weak until we forge ourselves. In asking to be talented, I was given nothing... and this may turn out to be my greatest gift.
"We're all in this together."
"Everyone move on back! It doesn't matter which seat; it's all the same bus. Come on now, we're all in this together."
-Trimet Bus Driver, Line 4
------------------------------------
The above quote speaks to Rumi's story of the hot bath. It was nice to hear the same message coming from the mouth of a bus driver. The idea that we're all on the same bus, and you might be the smelly person, or sitting next to the hot person, or the old man driving the rascal, or the cursing angry youth, or the guy who can't find his transfer stub, or maybe you've got everything just right - we're all on that bus. The final destination is the same, and we never notice it because we're busy being caught up in our own worlds. Small worlds.
I was riding the bus to the Chinese garden, so that I could walk barefoot on the stones. All the stone in the garden was imported from China, and there are many paths with intricate patterns where small stones are used like tile. I was walking barefoot in order to help open and relax my feet. It's painful, but I think it's a good pain. I think it's a pain that will help me grow. Once my feet had enough, I sat in the quiet of the teashop watching the weather change.
Also, I've gotten a lead on a good male yoga teacher. This is good, because I need a mentor in Portland to help me shape my body and spirit. He is a healer, masseuse, and yoga teacher - and he sounds very proficient in all. I will check out his class on Thursday.
-Trimet Bus Driver, Line 4
------------------------------------
The above quote speaks to Rumi's story of the hot bath. It was nice to hear the same message coming from the mouth of a bus driver. The idea that we're all on the same bus, and you might be the smelly person, or sitting next to the hot person, or the old man driving the rascal, or the cursing angry youth, or the guy who can't find his transfer stub, or maybe you've got everything just right - we're all on that bus. The final destination is the same, and we never notice it because we're busy being caught up in our own worlds. Small worlds.
I was riding the bus to the Chinese garden, so that I could walk barefoot on the stones. All the stone in the garden was imported from China, and there are many paths with intricate patterns where small stones are used like tile. I was walking barefoot in order to help open and relax my feet. It's painful, but I think it's a good pain. I think it's a pain that will help me grow. Once my feet had enough, I sat in the quiet of the teashop watching the weather change.
Also, I've gotten a lead on a good male yoga teacher. This is good, because I need a mentor in Portland to help me shape my body and spirit. He is a healer, masseuse, and yoga teacher - and he sounds very proficient in all. I will check out his class on Thursday.
Monday, February 21, 2011
lessons from cutting hair
I've been cutting my own hair for about two years now. I'm ready to start paying someone to do it, but I have learned some things:
1) Don't be afraid to cut. Errors are rarely as bad as you think they'll be.
2) Don't cut too much at once. Mistakes arise when you think you know what you're doing.
3) When cutting hair that isn't visible, your hands can tell you everything you need to know.
4) Always cut hair while naked.
1) Don't be afraid to cut. Errors are rarely as bad as you think they'll be.
2) Don't cut too much at once. Mistakes arise when you think you know what you're doing.
3) When cutting hair that isn't visible, your hands can tell you everything you need to know.
4) Always cut hair while naked.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
class with Etienne
"If you're bigger or taller, you have to make your movements bigger... or more grandiose."
Etienne talks about moving the pelvis and letting that rhythm carry through the body. He slows down his movement to show the integration. He says you must smile. You must let your happiness shine forth. Don't block your face; let your arms frame your face. Smile. Radiate. Stretch. Move. Laugh.
Etienne talks about moving the pelvis and letting that rhythm carry through the body. He slows down his movement to show the integration. He says you must smile. You must let your happiness shine forth. Don't block your face; let your arms frame your face. Smile. Radiate. Stretch. Move. Laugh.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Checkmate.
What does it mean to 'let go'? It's such a catch-phrase, but really what are we letting go of? Control? Desire? Pleasures? Belief? Our egos? Our violence or our joy? I sense that whatever that term is referring to is some sort of superstructure that we have placed over top of our selves. Some sense of who or what we should be, all the while forgetting what we are and what we want to be.
Rumi has a lovely story about two types of people in the world. The materialists or fire-stokers of the world are scrapping and scrounging to pile up heaps and heaps of dung. At the end of the day, they derive their worth from how much dung they have piled up. The dung is then collected together and ignited in order to fuel the hot baths of those in the spa above. The other type of person has released themself from the obligation to haul dung. These sit in the water and wash off the grime. And here's the shocker from Rumi:
------------------
The mystery is how the obsessions
of furnace stokers keep the bathwater
of the others simmering perfectly.
They seem opposed, but they're necessary
to each other's work: the proud piling up
of fire worship, the humble disrobing
and emptying out of purification.
As the sun dries wet dung to make it
ready to heat water, so dazzling
sparks fly from the burning filth.
-------------------
Not claiming to be anything more than a fire stoker, I ask, what is this world and this mystery? How does the annoying behavior of someone shed light on my own self? Can such a deep yearning be left unanswered?
-----------------------------------------
There's someone swaying by your side,
lips that say Mashallah, Mashallah.
Wonderful. God inside attraction.
A spring no one knew of wells up
on the valley floor.
Lights inside a tent lovers move toward.
The refuse of Damascus gets turned over
in the sun. Be like that yourself.
Say mercy, mercy to the one who guides
your soul, who keeps time.
Move, make a mistake, look
up. Checkmate.
-Rumi
Rumi has a lovely story about two types of people in the world. The materialists or fire-stokers of the world are scrapping and scrounging to pile up heaps and heaps of dung. At the end of the day, they derive their worth from how much dung they have piled up. The dung is then collected together and ignited in order to fuel the hot baths of those in the spa above. The other type of person has released themself from the obligation to haul dung. These sit in the water and wash off the grime. And here's the shocker from Rumi:
------------------
The mystery is how the obsessions
of furnace stokers keep the bathwater
of the others simmering perfectly.
They seem opposed, but they're necessary
to each other's work: the proud piling up
of fire worship, the humble disrobing
and emptying out of purification.
As the sun dries wet dung to make it
ready to heat water, so dazzling
sparks fly from the burning filth.
-------------------
Not claiming to be anything more than a fire stoker, I ask, what is this world and this mystery? How does the annoying behavior of someone shed light on my own self? Can such a deep yearning be left unanswered?
-----------------------------------------
There's someone swaying by your side,
lips that say Mashallah, Mashallah.
Wonderful. God inside attraction.
A spring no one knew of wells up
on the valley floor.
Lights inside a tent lovers move toward.
The refuse of Damascus gets turned over
in the sun. Be like that yourself.
Say mercy, mercy to the one who guides
your soul, who keeps time.
Move, make a mistake, look
up. Checkmate.
-Rumi
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
flower sermon
Toward the end of his life, the Buddha took his disciples to a quiet pond for instruction. As they had done so many times before, the Buddha’s followers sat in a small circle around him, and waited for the teaching.
But this time the Buddha had no words. He reached into the muck and pulled up a lotus flower. And he held it silently before them, its roots dripping mud and water.
The disciples were greatly confused. Buddha quietly displayed the lotus to each of them. In turn, the disciples did their best to expound upon the meaning of the flower: what it symbolized, and how it fit into the body of Buddha’s teaching.
When at last the Buddha came to his follower Mahakasyapa, the disciple suddenly understood. He smiled and began to laugh. Buddha handed the lotus to Mahakasyapa and began to speak.
“What can be said I have said to you,” smiled the Buddha, “and what cannot be said, I have given to Mahakashyapa.”
Mahakashyapa became Buddha’s successor from that day forward.
perfection
I'm seeking perfection in my body. But one must define perfection. Posture is not static - it is the amalgamation of thousands of tiny movements. Even the muscles and bone structures are constantly changing. Lance Armstrong says that he became a new man after his battle with cancer - literally, the chemo atrophied his muscles, and when he built them back, they came back differently.
I will not say that I want to perfect each of the thousand movements and each of the muscles (though I do), because that is impossible. But if one believes, as I do, that the body is a manifestation of the mind, and that every ill-taken position and movement is actually a reflection of my deepest self, then I find that perfect posture will not be found through training (though this may be necessary), but rather it will be found in the deepest self-awareness and forgiveness.
I will not say that I want to perfect each of the thousand movements and each of the muscles (though I do), because that is impossible. But if one believes, as I do, that the body is a manifestation of the mind, and that every ill-taken position and movement is actually a reflection of my deepest self, then I find that perfect posture will not be found through training (though this may be necessary), but rather it will be found in the deepest self-awareness and forgiveness.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Issues in my dance
Connection, as I've come to see it, is not something created. It's not some posture or some line of force that we create with someone. It's not affected. It arises from our manner of being. Our posture, the way we use our bodies, the position of our bodies, our intentions. All these things affect our connection to another.
As our issues, lusts, fears, desires, and aversions become present in our posture, we convey these to our partner. How does our partner respond? How should they respond? There are as many responses as we see in everyday human interaction. The perfect man, the perfect dancer approaches all with love, accepting and simultaneously appropriating everything. Only with this person do we feel supremely comfortable. But where is the dancer like this? Most of us step onto the floor and try to politely lumber through a dance that may make us feel very uncomfortable. Our emotional instabilities surge through our connection in the form of tension, dependence upon the balance of the other, pushes, pulls, headbutts, etc.
My head and shoulders droop forward. This is my escape from the world. It's a protection for my heart - the avoidance of connecting with another. My eyes are cast downwards, and they do not accept what arrives in front of me. I hide and run. As my shoulders hunker forward, I literally push into my partner. I try to decrease this reliance and hold my own, but without noticing it, I tend to revert back to this state. This is the most obvious example, but there are so many more. For instance, I stay locked up in my pelvic floor - not letting my glutes and lower back do their proper work. Most of the weight of my body is diverted to the outer muscles of my legs, near the IT bands. The inner legs don't do enough work, and the pressures of the day are directed at my knees. This has an emotional basis, and it plays out in my dance in countless ways.
I've become fascinated with an author named Louise Hay who worked for many years on emotional issues with people. She took copious notes, and began to see patterns - namely, that certain emotional issues appeared with certain physical issues. It's not a surprise to most of us when someone droops their head that this has a certain meaning in their life, but Louise Hay takes this concept surprisingly far, matching particular issues with particular body parts - down to individual vertebrae.
In a partnered dance, we approach each other with our entire being. There is nothing hidden, and when we try to hide (as in the case of my shoulders), there is always an outlet. What happens when two people, with their own particular issues, come together? Is it a wrestling match? Is one person sacrificing all their comfort and desires to another? Is it some match of issues, so that we actually feel comfortable with each other? Is it a diversion? Is it creation?
Occasionally I see a glimpse of the dance I want to dance - it's rarely more than one or two steps long. I don't know how to describe it. It is what you think - just what a healthy relationship is. But, really, what is that? Everything is conveyed without the intention of controlling or depending on the other. I stand. You stand. We merge. If I can give no better answer, Whitman can at least describe the sentiment:
-------------------------
"Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded,
I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no,
And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away."
-Song of Myself, 137-139
As our issues, lusts, fears, desires, and aversions become present in our posture, we convey these to our partner. How does our partner respond? How should they respond? There are as many responses as we see in everyday human interaction. The perfect man, the perfect dancer approaches all with love, accepting and simultaneously appropriating everything. Only with this person do we feel supremely comfortable. But where is the dancer like this? Most of us step onto the floor and try to politely lumber through a dance that may make us feel very uncomfortable. Our emotional instabilities surge through our connection in the form of tension, dependence upon the balance of the other, pushes, pulls, headbutts, etc.
My head and shoulders droop forward. This is my escape from the world. It's a protection for my heart - the avoidance of connecting with another. My eyes are cast downwards, and they do not accept what arrives in front of me. I hide and run. As my shoulders hunker forward, I literally push into my partner. I try to decrease this reliance and hold my own, but without noticing it, I tend to revert back to this state. This is the most obvious example, but there are so many more. For instance, I stay locked up in my pelvic floor - not letting my glutes and lower back do their proper work. Most of the weight of my body is diverted to the outer muscles of my legs, near the IT bands. The inner legs don't do enough work, and the pressures of the day are directed at my knees. This has an emotional basis, and it plays out in my dance in countless ways.
I've become fascinated with an author named Louise Hay who worked for many years on emotional issues with people. She took copious notes, and began to see patterns - namely, that certain emotional issues appeared with certain physical issues. It's not a surprise to most of us when someone droops their head that this has a certain meaning in their life, but Louise Hay takes this concept surprisingly far, matching particular issues with particular body parts - down to individual vertebrae.
In a partnered dance, we approach each other with our entire being. There is nothing hidden, and when we try to hide (as in the case of my shoulders), there is always an outlet. What happens when two people, with their own particular issues, come together? Is it a wrestling match? Is one person sacrificing all their comfort and desires to another? Is it some match of issues, so that we actually feel comfortable with each other? Is it a diversion? Is it creation?
Occasionally I see a glimpse of the dance I want to dance - it's rarely more than one or two steps long. I don't know how to describe it. It is what you think - just what a healthy relationship is. But, really, what is that? Everything is conveyed without the intention of controlling or depending on the other. I stand. You stand. We merge. If I can give no better answer, Whitman can at least describe the sentiment:
-------------------------
"Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded,
I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no,
And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away."
-Song of Myself, 137-139
Friday, February 11, 2011
the seedling
There is a transformation taking form deep within my heart. I can see it clearly, because whenever something threatens me or my spiritual progress, I can feel it. And now I have the discipline to separate myself from it. When a plant is young, you have to tend it - make sure it doesn't get baked in the sun, or drenched in the rain. Is there enough fertilizer, is the soil rich enough? Does it get the shade it needs? I am that plant, and my heart needs tending.
I realize that I have been sloppy with my relationships, with my words, with my thoughts. They run around and do what they will. This means that sometimes I have great experiences, and sometimes I have terrible experiences. It feels like I'm at the whim of some brutal machine, but in fact I have been at the whim of my own unstated thoughts and desires.
Whenever I feel threatened, whenever the sea of my heart becomes too rough, and I'm not sure If I can keep afloat, I simply walk away. Sometimes I'm walking from my friends or my enemies, or my dancing, or whatever else may be causing the turmoil. It has made me feel stronger every moment. I finally feel that I have some semblance of control over my life, and I recognize that this is largely a negative control. I am not yet ready to alter the circumstances - I have to run from them. But all things come in due time.
Part of the reason that Portland is so great for me right now is the drizzly grey. It feels like a blanket was put over the world. It is a place of emotional smallness and protection for me. It's a place to tend the growth of my heart. I imagine that whenever it is time for me to step forth into my next role, people who haven't seen me in a long time will think, What happened to him? People who know me will think, How did he do that? And people who know me best will think, That's the guy I always knew.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
prayer and Satchmo
I started to pray again. I ask for wisdom, courage, clarity of purpose, inspiration, compassion, guidance. I ask to burn like a torch. I ask to burn so wholly and fully that I can captivate the world. I ask to be taken by the river within; I ask for the courage to let that happen. I swear I will live my life as it should be.
My life feels like Louis Armstrong's Mack the Knife. When listening to that recording, the whole thing feels like a sweet and flowing build-up to that final, jubilant solo. Louis opens the song with a nice little solo, then sings on and on. The different instruments (muted trumpet, clarinet, trumpet, piano) take their turns mimicking his voice, conversing, playing with him. It all has a certain lightness to it, like you're walking through Central Park on a warm day. By about minute 2:00, knowing the solo is coming, I can't help thinking, On with it already... That piano just continues skittering around like a butterfly. When the solo finally arrives, Louis cues himself in with "take it, Satch..." The drums really kick in, the horns sing back and forth, and Satch's drive carries the whole thing in a hard swing. Ain't no more playing. The song starts to breath. I fucking love that solo. It is so consuming - it's like a horse that you can't hold back. And so short too.
My life feels like Louis Armstrong's Mack the Knife. When listening to that recording, the whole thing feels like a sweet and flowing build-up to that final, jubilant solo. Louis opens the song with a nice little solo, then sings on and on. The different instruments (muted trumpet, clarinet, trumpet, piano) take their turns mimicking his voice, conversing, playing with him. It all has a certain lightness to it, like you're walking through Central Park on a warm day. By about minute 2:00, knowing the solo is coming, I can't help thinking, On with it already... That piano just continues skittering around like a butterfly. When the solo finally arrives, Louis cues himself in with "take it, Satch..." The drums really kick in, the horns sing back and forth, and Satch's drive carries the whole thing in a hard swing. Ain't no more playing. The song starts to breath. I fucking love that solo. It is so consuming - it's like a horse that you can't hold back. And so short too.
Style
Style: What is style? There is a deeply conservative element to all style, and meanwhile also a subversive or pioneering element. There is no style with a disregard for the modern currents, and likewise there is no style with a complete subjugation to the modern currents. Style is a forward motion, and this requires belief. A trust or faith in one's self, combined with a willingness to be carried by the current.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Southern mindsets in the Civil War
When asked to a poor, white, non-slave holding Southerner, why are you fighting? He responded, "Because y'all are down here."
Lincoln on criticism of the Southern peoples: "Don't criticize them; they are just what we would be under similar circumstances."
Saturday, February 5, 2011
body integration... a remembrance
After spending some time in the shower considering my last post, I remembered that the first time I saw Brenda teach, the class was on body integration. It was the summer, and I had left Santa Fe bound for New Haven. I spent some time at the parents', and then went to a little blues workshop in Philadelphia. That was my first exposure to teaching other than my original teachers in NM.
In the shower, I was thinking of Ted Shawn and the movement traveling from the shoulders to the fingers; that is exactly what Brenda was teaching in Philadelphia. Her class hit me like a blaze, and I knew - I have to do this. Similar with meditation. Similar with Aikido. Similar with lots of things, but that was a very powerful moment.
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