exo(e)rcise

last night in class a few things popped. one of them was my right knee. it happened at the end of my dance in a particularly cathartic moment after i'd pulled a pair of boots off and slid down a chair....oops...i felt it happen. it was more startling than painful, yet i did think, Hmmm, i wonder what happens next...still working that part out.

In the meantime: other things were a'poppin' on the inside as i was moving through. Many many years ago, D gave me a pair of stiletto boots (which is what was being removed pre-knee popping). At the time, although i thought they looked sexy and all, i was supremely uncomfortable in them. Didn't know how to walk properly or balance in those 5-inch heels. I looked less va-voom and more ba-boom when i wore them. The va-voom was a side of me that i was nervous about. It held sexual power and, quite frankly, i didn't know what to do with that. In the fantasy of myself—the one i played out in my head—i knew what to do, but in the light of reality, my sexual being overwhelmed me a bit. So when the boots were unwrapped, i felt more apprehension than exhilaration. As I strapped them on and teetered from one holdable surface to the next, D joked that men invented high heels so women couldn't run away. Now here's the part where i stopped paying attention: Where some inner voice in me might have responded Wha? think about what he's really saying...instead i went with Well, yeah, that's his twisted sense of humor. ha-ha.

So part 2: Listening. Hearing what someone says. Not just the words themselves, but the space in between those words, the atmosphere that surrounds them, the feelings that are carried along. how they make me feel. really feel. I do that with music, listen and move between the notes, sometimes enjoy the stuff that happens all around and inside the actual music more than the song as a whole. Paying attention. Because realizing that just because something is draped over or around me (clothing, words, emotions) from the outside doesn't mean i need be smothered by it. I have the power to look at it and decide if i want to wear it or not.

Those boots had kicked my ass a bit with reminders of who i'd been. I'm still the same person, but now i realize that things don't hold power, I do. And by bringing them into the room and exorcising them, my ability to claim the space around me and stay in it was palpable. I created a whole area for the good stuff that's currently rolling in on most-excellent feet. And I felt light. i might have soared right out of the room, had not a little something tapped me on the knee and made me stay put. I'm not always good at that staying put part because i can be really impatient. But this morning when it was suggested to me by someone whose entry into this newly found space is introducing me to a lovely language that i haven't spoken in...er, maybe ever...that i pause for the day, i paid attention. got out the frozen peas for my knee, threw a couple of pillows under my leg and laid back and thought of England (OK, not really. that saying just always makes me realize how far we've come...us ladies*).

Some of what i thought: now I not only can walk in 5-inch heels with confidence, but when i do, I enjoy it. and i'm not trying to get away. my sensuality unfolds in myriad ways without being scary. i'm so much more ready (and able) to be present in a moment and stay there with my eyes and ears open. so even if it means my physical self reminds me it's there with some bumps and bruises (and pops), so goes my emotional self as well. And the whole of it knows what to do to heal, as long as i respect and let it happen. a bag of frozen peas can go a long way, but even better is the pause and pay attention.


* see "Origins of the Phrase"

on beginnings....

Yesterday morning on the subway, I glanced up to see a beginning unfold before my eyes. It seemed pretty brave and it made me smile. It also made me realize how often seeing a situation happen outside of myself shines a bit of illumination on something going on right in my own self's neighborhood.

Onto the crowded morning-rush A train came an amazing girl (no disrespect, she was probably in her early 20s.... plus us ladies are all girls in our own special way, and i actually like that word almost as much as i like dame or babe or chickie or, well, i'll add to the list later). anyway, i was sitting down, she was standing above me and as i glanced up i saw this awesome confidence in just how she swayed a little to the music in her headphones, how she knew people were looking at her in her tight jeans and white t-shirt, but played coolly unaware. Probably used to attention. One stop later, a guy got on: her age, impossibly smooth looking, ear-buds in place, in his own world. They ended up next to each other holding the same pole. somehow in the course of more stops/people on&off, they became face-to-face. He was throwing some furtive glances at her, she didn't seem to notice (but of course she did know). At one point as the train lurched, her hand slipped down the pole and brushed against his. She looked at him, mouthed I'm Sorry. He smiled, nodded, then went back to the cool facade, then stole another look, then went back to being cool, but only for a minute. It was as if he maybe realized that at some point her stop would come...the moment would be lost. he took out his earplugs, leaned in and asked her name. She didn't respond at first, but then slowly took out her own earplugs and said something. By this point I'd totally abandoned reading my book and became this sideline cheerleader. Come ON, I kept thinking. Hurry Hurry, she's gonna get off the train. Then came my stop, which was hers, too, because as i looked back i saw him typing madly into his device, his cool demeanor of the last half hour gone completely, as she moved toward the door telling him what he asked (I assume/hope). And she looked pretty pleased, too.
Yay!

Beginnings: heart beats. My friend B wrote to me earlier about how exciting they are, and I could finally agree with her because i find myself in the middle of a beginning that is really different from how i've begun before. Usually I would be someone who'd claim to really not like them: something new, uncomfortable, not sure of the lay of the land, not sure how to act, what to say, who to be. It would take a while for me to relax into it all and be myself. But suddenly, amazingly and surprisingly, I find myself in a place where I'm not negotiating how to be in this beginning. I'm just in it. Eyes open. I realize that before in similar situations, I've held back and watched cautiously because i wasn't sure i'd be met in my desire. i'd wander down the relationship road keeping a distance and observing a bit from afar looking for clues. A little bit of the safety dance: one step forward, a little shuffle back.

Here's where the change has happened: In the middle of this beginning, I'm being heard. Being received. And I'm getting to do the same in return. And there's time. None of the Uh-oh, better-dazzle-in-order-to-make-this-stick-quickly-before-he-fades-away feeling. Slowing down and letting myself be seen&see, felt&feel. I've been really moving toward that in my darkened room of dance, but this is the first time i've brought it out into the light of day and wrapped it around another human being. not as a net, but as an embrace.

bubbles

No, that title isn't meant to reflect what my stripper name would be if i went into that line of work (besides, as most of you know, i already have a more-than-suitable moniker, which works for the sheer fact that it'll never be used for that purpose), the title is instead to point toward joy. the effervescence of life kind.

A few months ago, talking to my friend Mary during a particularly crunchy emotional time, she reminded me to continue to let my bubble of joy be present and i began to realize that i'd been bouncing around looking for it for some time. weird how the default position had always been to treat joy like a mirage, some fleeting glimpse of something that would rumble deep inside of me, begin to move up to the crown of my head, but somewhere around my heart (probably) i'd pop it. write it off (indigestion? too little sleep?). so i didn't fully hold it for very long. more honestly, i'd write it off because i was sure it would go away, so better to puncture it first. now i'm discovering that joy is all about the ebb and flow, come and go...if i allow it to stay it never disappears, just changes shape. Also, for me, i've found that my joy is more bubbly like Orange Crush all tickly in your nose and stuff, rather than big and encompassing like the Boy in the Plastic one (oh, John Travolta...what a fleeting little crush i had on you back then).

This summer i was at a barbecue where i watched this kid operate some huge bubble machine-gun. really...two hands were required (cuz i borrowed it to see how it worked). twas a bit more effort than the little wands in the bottles with the soapy water that i know better. Also, the big bubbles seemed laden down and didn't float as high as the baby bubbles. But i did appreciate the cool fractured rainbow colors that came off these large floating objects. And that's the thing, I realized that the joy floats in all shapes and sizes. All colors. and when the collective moan happens after the bubble bursts, it's only a second of ahhhhh, how sad. then we begin again to breathe into more joy.

I really appreciate and am paying more attention to how the feeling of lightness when i find my flow and lift from one move to the next (whether in the dance studio or just in the studio of living) happens with less fear of the consequences of bursting and going boom. what might get bruised, how silly i'll look. jeez, I get some good bruises just checking the mail, tho those aren't the ones i celebrate. instead i'll wave the wand, let life make more bubbles. tickle my nose.


one faction of my bubble crew from this summer.

holy holy

This article "Why It Is Wise to Worship a Woman" (click on title to read) is incredible. Please to read and enjoy (& maybe some tears, of the sort that, for me, realization brings). Because really, it occurs to me how important and amazing it is to honor how I move through the world without fear of being female. of having intuition. of taking. it. slowly. I don't have to convince anyone of my intention or self, i just have to live it. And while inviting someone in to love and be loved by is something i want, i also know how important it is to take my time and have fun inside of that. and i don't think i've ever done that before. wheee!

a shortie

Just now on my way to the laundry room, a wee little person (maybe 4) came out of a door down the hall and said Hello to me as if we were long-lost friends who hadn't seen each other in far too long and she was just thrilled to lay eyes on me. Well, Hello! And I was momentarily stopped. Not just because of the absolute awesomeness of being greeted so happily and enthusiastically, but because it reminded me that there was a time when being open to the world and the people and places in it was just the most natural thing ever.

My mom told me of a time when I was about that size and i had just gotten over the chicken pox and felt it was important as i rode on the train with my grandma, to show all the other passengers the red little bumps on my belly by pulling up my dress and informing random strangers all about it. first of all: who takes a train in LA? second: although i don't remember this moment, alrighty then, why not?

when I was little, i have a dim memory that it was my world and i was just glad you could stop by. although selfish, i don't think egotistical, because my ego wasn't that fine-tuned yet. hell, i didn't even know what that word meant. but tell me i couldn't play or say the way i wanted to, and that would be a problem. it was also a time when there was no real fear of rejection, as i remember it. as the shields come up over time, both to protect and inhibit, i stopped being so fear-less, which no doubt helped me in countless growing-up ways.

but still, my little neighbor reminded me tonight how awesome it is to just be completely present in that moment of walking out the door and welcoming what comes. what's the worst that could happen? they don't say hello back...i'll live.