one of these things is not like the other

so funny how things never ever ever look like I either think they will or like they looked before.

Last week was an interesting series of events in the land of Really? First of all, I got a chance to see a friend of mine fly high in a pole competition where she made it to the final four competitors (out of over a dozen). Sitting and watching an amazing group of women—and a couple of men—spin, climb and twirl (along with moves that i can't even pretend to describe the strength and beauty of), while telling a story within that movement, I was reminded how this form of dance has historically been marginalized to the land of strip-clubs and the male gaze (click here for a great view on that by Claire Griffin Sterrett in her Pole Story blog). But really, the movement is so filled with grace and joy (even when expressing heartache), that I wonder at how long the pole dancing cliché will persist. Though I get that very little clothing and very tall shoes on very lovely (tho not always traditionally so) women may be seen as the main course with the movement considered a side dish, the order of things seems to be changing. (And seeing the two solo men perform—one of whom was wearing a killer pair of shoes—brought a corrective moment to my viewpoint that guys can bring the sexy to the pole, albeit in a kind of gymnastically sideways way.)

And in keeping with the breaking down of that pole dancing misconception, a play project that I'm helping a friend put together (Pole Play: Taking Flight) was put up on Kickstarter, an entrepreneurial Web site that supports independent projects. With a goal of $5,000, the project has made almost $1,600 in one week (with a little over a month to go), which, while incredibly exciting, also reminded me how much fear I have around new projects. In theory, in conversation, in the abstract, it's all very exciting. In reality, I freeze. so this will be a good experiment in being a part of something that involves others, a situation that requires me to speak up and use my gut to communicate. We'll see how that goes. (and now that I've outed myself right here, I'll be sure and keep accountable.)

As the week continued to roll, the theme seemed to be following a pretty solid It Takes More Than One To Get This Party Started trajectory. And here's where that message really hit home for me. After spending an evening with my merry band of dance luvuhs watching Pina Bausch's dance troupe perform one of the most physically demanding shows I've ever seen. Where what was elegant (ladies in beautiful evening gowns) was altered (ladies drenched to the bone while moving through the river that ran through the stage, while still wearing beautiful evening gowns). Where what I thought was strictly dance turned out to be just as much a spoken-word play on life, and where I assumed that after seeing the run time of two-and-a-half-hours that I'd be bouncing in my seat for it to end—and I wasn't, I found myself exiting the theater and entering a kind of face-to-face showdown with a few of my demons and fears.

This unfolding of events wasn't directly related to the show, but instead had its roots in my realization that when I get in a groove (read: going to shows with merry dance luvuhs, continuing to run the NYC marathon no matter whether the training is making me go hmmm, taking S classes), and when I sense that groove is changing, I become terrified and my go-to place is often the land of run-away. Well because the last few months have been filled with amazing moments of newness, in having someone in my life where I find myself smiling and happily surprised consistently, and even though on a pretty accessible level I know nothing stays exactly the same, in fact can't stay the same and can actually get better along with the act&gravity of forward movement, I slipped into an anti-accessible place and freaked the f&*k out about the man in my life. Started to slip into the valley of self-doubt because of a fairly straightforward communication situation. Ahhh. Life. Sharing. Speaking. Showing. All such great words, all of them scaring the beJeezus out of me at that particular moment. And it made me realize how much I still bring in all my past experiences, as if they're happening all over again step-by-step. It was really weird to watch myself go there and know I could actually decide not to dive in, but the funny thing was I wanted to belly-flop into it. I chose to. And after realizing and being reassured that he didn't in fact run off with a Swedish supermodel or disappear having come to the conclusion that he was done here with me, I was able to actually say these things out loud and stay put in whatever words came my way, I felt crazy better (yeah, a little of both separately and a whole lot when put together).

What I thought was happening wasn't. How I think I roll, I don't. When I'm about to make some big-ass decision about the direction of my life...pause. speak. listen. lucky.


(merry band at Bausch-land)