Thursday, February 24, 2011

time travelin'


back in my music-writing days, i was in a band for approximately two weeks. I was the singer. I shouldn't in any way have been the singer because I couldn't (still can't) actually sing. I know that with many rock bands that isn't really an issue. But in truth, those non-singers probably bring a certain flair (or at least a very good auto-tune machine) to the performance. For me, it was mostly just jumping straight up and down in the air over and over again OR standing completely still clutching the microphone. OK, we only had one performance, and it was in another state where the magazine i worked for was putting together a college issue. And we only did covers. In fact, we only performed two songs (I think). And it was in someone's living room. So maybe I wasn't really in a band at all. I could have just been a part of a drunken party moment...tho, we did have an actual rehearsal, and i think that should qualify for a little bit of credibility, even though the microphone wasn't actually plugged in ... oh, never mind.

My reason for bringing this up is twofold. One: I wanted to use the official band picture featured above (it was taken for our publicity material, of which there was none, and for the tiny, nepostistic write-up in our magazine, of which there was one) as an example of how some things never change. Namely: my hairstyle. It seems I've had pretty much the same cut and color for...let's see...ever? Secondly: I'm finding myself traveling a bit back in time even as I take giant steps forward. One of these things is about to change...

My hair. I'm planning on getting it cut. There, I said it to all(?) of you, out loud, in writing. (eeeeek.) so i'll have an update once that happens.

But what's not changing are these movements in time. And for that I'm happy because there is much learning going on. Last night I found myself transported back to a space in my life when I'd stumbled half-clothed into a darkened room (no this doesn't have to do with that previous band time...this is much healthier. stumbling because it was dark in there, half-clothed because that's what was required to move freely) to find a community of women who, while all from very different parts of the physical and mental stratosphere, offered a support and opportunity for my own growth physically and emotionally such that I'd never found before. I reveled in it, rolled in it, clutched it and claimed as my/our own. Back then this group of women grew to be a tough-ass unit of ladies who swaggered with the promise of our power, dried each others' tears of both sadness and joy, encouraged great leaps of faith in mind and body and, ultimately became so tight that at some point it was hard to see where one began and the other ended. And that is when the light stopped being able to penetrate. when in what seemed to be one instance all it took was a little crack for the whole beautiful shell to come apart and find us all human again inside. It was an absolutely necessary rebirth. Out we stumbled, squinting in the light, moving forward, sideways, sometimes backwards. we found our legs again (and our spins and polecats, too...tho some of my fiercer moves i seem to have misplaced, yet I know i'll find them again. the inner stuff is still intact and getting stronger).

so last night, I walked into that same studio for the first time in over a year to lower myself to the ground and close my eyes. not gonna lie, i had some misgivings about how i'd feel stepping back in there with a teacher who i'd put so far up on a pedestal that even when she tried to jump I'd tied her down. then, of course, she fell and i had avoided any chance of letting her lead me again. Now, as she began the warm-up, time both melted away and came into sharp focus. a crazy slideshow in my heart began to flash images of who&what&when. I sensed how very very far i'd come in spirit and strength. the tears had to come too. I was also there to celebrate a very dear original class-ling friend whose new adventure is taking her across the country. As the images/emotions began to pulse a bit faster it became a bit dizzying, but there was such a peace in this acknowledgment of growth and change that i welcomed all of it. all the mistakes and stubbed toes/feelings; all the bruises (in and out) and uproarious laughter. The times that transported us out of the studio and into the world as a unit of awesomeness. But i also realized that floating in that made me a bit pompous. made my swagger just a bit full of ego. While i'm fairly sure we welcomed in the ladies who were doing makeups in class with generosity, i can't help but think we were also a bit intimidating.

Last night I got a dose of humble, and it didn't come with a side of bitter (the sweet kind only). I really tried to appreciate how much learning I get to do on my own with the help (not the crutch) of the people around me who i love. I watched as this class of ladies interacted with each other with a bit of the jaunty that we had had, and there was a twinge, but it was of recognition rather than desire. I left with my muscles aching and bruises forming thinking about how ready i am to cut my damn hair as i slowly dismantle all my hiding places.

dedicated to saturdayS@4 & Bex's new adventure.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

dem bones...


Last night I went gaga (not the Lady kind) with one of my merry dance luvuhs. It's an extraordinary movement class that flows through a solid hour of reaching, stretching, rolling, leaping, angling, twirling and beyond. It (literally and figuratively) brought up to the surface of my skin all kinds of amazing sensations. First off, I realized that my S experience has brought around a certain shamelessness when it comes to my hands on my body. It's an automatic go-to place that when in a setting resembling a movement studio, while wearing things that suggest i'm about to move, my hands suddenly rove all over myself. (And, to be honest, i sometimes catch myself going there even when I'm not in a studio. mi-honey--who's away right now following his passion, which is inspiring--will concur.) So as the class began to unfurl, and the teacher began to loosen us up, i noticed my hands making a beeline to my torso and arms and more. it was an interesting exercise to notice and then not to go there. to instead spread out my arms, take in the space and take up the space, too.

Another thing that happened was around the time he (the teacher) asked us to feel the space between our skin and our bones, to really expand our presence and feel how much room we can create within all the parts of us, i got jolted with some impatience and frustration aimed at myself. I suddenly felt a certainty beyond any i'd felt in awhile that i needed/wanted to fill up this space in me with something that feeds me creatively. that the time is now to stop being on pause and to hit play as I go toward what I want to do. I think it had something to do with the idea of expanding myself, and as i stretched, felt my bones reach and skin lift, I realized how much room is in there. and that made me think i've been assigning myself a very small playground to frolic in when in fact the space is much bigger. A little, I began to lash out in the movement (which was alright since that was the moment he was telling us to jump up and down and let go. BTW, who knew how difficult it is to leap up in the air with both feet leaving the ground over and over and over again. exhausting. in a good&challenging way). so there i was, hopping up and down, flailing my arms and becoming completely agitated about getting on with it. The IT being my desires. pursuing what's within my talents and accomplishments!

All this rises now because i've got a book in me (maybe more, but one for sure), and instead of putting it together and talking to agents, i've been channeling my energy toward other people's projects. Much like my last post about living out through other people's boundary pushing (and discovering how to have a tantrum when i'm told i can't cross a line, tho i like the line just fine), last night brought completely to the surface how i need to get back on my own track creatively and be honest with myself and the people around me regarding other projects. I've discovered (OK, i've always suspected, just didn't want to admit) that playing a secondary role that doesn't require my own pen to paper does not feed me. That I actually work better solo (product of being an only child maybe?), that I can talk myself out of doing my own creative works by way of helping out someone else's with nary a thought. Until of course something pushes me over the line of my own avoidance. In this case some bone and skin separating gaga movement on the heels of a boundary-breaking S assignment (thrown together with a little time-is-tick-tick-ticking away to the half century mark for me) breaks the barrier.

My assignment, before I convince myself that the skin has completely settled back onto my bones and i have no room for expansion: be brave, make that space my own by filling it with a project my heart goes toward. Do not stop. Do keep my eye (whichever one i need) on the shiny object of my creative affection.

PS: the MDL (MerryDanceLuvuh) that I took class with last night has an amazing blog herself, and this posting dovetails perfectly with where I'm going (click on: Buddha Becky )

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

bound(ary) crossing

When I was a teenager, and even into my twenties, I lived through others people's brazenness and (what I perceived to be) bravery. I had one friend in particular who, I think, repainted her own boundaries all the time and there i would be following a few paces behind receiving all manner of vicarious thrills while pretending I was just as bold. There were memorable moments. Like the time in a bar that I turned to see her dumping a drink on a guy's head because he asked her to dance at which point punches were exchanged and we were escorted from the premises, or when we were chased through Hoboken by two guys whose really-choice, classic-red Camaro was on the receiving end of a rock thrown by her (and then she faced them down by yelling "What are you going to do, hit a girl?" i was pretty sure the answer could easily have been Yes), or the always popular late-night, inebriated stroll through the very-opposite-of-what-is-now-the-land-of-high-priced-real-estate, Lower East Side, to get sassy with the scary locals. All this culminating in me being so, so happy when we'd make it home alive. But at the same time, the endorphins did rush. Until they didn't anymore and I began to wonder why I kept putting myself in situations that were becoming less and less fun. But I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to untangle myself from the friendship. So I slept with her ex-boyfriend, who happened to be my roommate, who then became my boyfriend (not too much more to the story except to say that my decisions at the time were not always very forward-thinking or intelligent). This move guaranteed that from then onward she would despise me.

When I was still in it, I remember feeling as if each incident was beginning to form one long highway to hell that, instead of thrilling me, was making me crave the middle of the road. Or at least to be shown where the on-ramp for that saner stretch of street might be. I know I could have found it without resorting to throwing quite so large a wrench in the works, but at the time I didn't really feel i had the tool belt necessary. To a slight degree, I was paying attention to what drove me: I took up a career with deadlines and assignments because it made me feel safe and confident to know exactly what was required. Although concurrently, I took up relationships with people who had no interest in expressing safe or confident. Out of those two scenarios, the former worked the best by far.

But slowly it dawned on me that my definition of bravery was all askew. I began to realize that bravery has nothing to do with outward acts derring-do (or, rather, dumbass-do) and everything to do with inner moments of development. I'm still discovering that. The other night in the class I was visiting I had one of those revelatory moments where your body tells you something that your mind only suspected was true: that boundaries actually help me become more intimate with someone (and myself) because i can hold a gaze and be curious without the expectation of drawing any closer. all i need to do is look and stay in the gaze. I also discovered that i'm capable of throwing little movement tantrums when i'm instructed not to do something and i decide i want to do it anyway. bursts of five-year-old emotion come out of me and i want to cross that line that i've been told not to cross. but in the end, i respect the boundary and revel in the bravery it takes to face myself inside of it.

This to me, is one brave and trailblazing chick. And talk about a gaze...all mischief and fun. And she's still blazing trails. Her book:
Just Kids. awesome.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

let it be...


A couple of reasons I'm using this picture: 1) the sight of a beach towel, even with the illustration of some strange creature wearing a bathing suit and wack-a-doodle glasses, is much needed to remind me that there is a season when sunshine bathes this part of the world in warmth; 2) it also brings home to me the fact that I can buy (into) aggravation (pepper spray) or take a chance and let go of of control (Bingo/Poker Chips).

This week has given me the opportunity to either roll with the moment or perpetuate an ongoing game where there are no winners. But the challenge for me is to stay in the game by listening fully, finding what rings true, accepting it and then being present for whatever follows. I know that for the most part, we all just want to be heard (and, in many cases, seen), yet I'm finding that to just be still and accept, to do nothing but listen without judgment or anger, is truly a challenge. I instead want to yell out "How do you not know me?" or disappear altogether from her life. To stay put with my mouth/mind quiet and my arms/heart open feels incredibly hard. But that idea also tantalizes me as being a relief. Wow, what a concept: to just listen and whatever the other person says or sees is fine, because it's their perception. It doesn't have anything to do with truth. As I begin to understand this concept of giving and receiving, and being present in the experience, i'm reminded of a buddhist idea that mi-honey has mentioned: someone offers you a "gift," you can accept it or decline it. Either way, no right, no wrong, the choice remains my own, as does the choice of what to do with that "gift," if I choose to reach out and take it.

This week in class I had a dance that challenged me to let go of all intentions. Naturally, being me, I'd gone in with all kinds of ideas about how the song I chose would be cathartic, that I'd not compromise on my movement, I'd get it all out, yadayadayada. And naturally, when my dance began, none of that happened. For a minute I just sat still, entertained the thought of not moving at all. didn't move for awhile, then a little something rose up and i felt like i was starting from square one, moving around the room, seeing what was going on in other corners, a little annoyed, yet also completely not giving a damn about how clumsy and (apparently, according to the teacher) primitively I was moving. the song was short, and the realization came: sometimes a dance is just a dance. a mom is just a mom. a daughter just a daughter. a gift given. accepted in love. roll the dice and let the chips fall where they may. And sometimes a little pepper (tho not the spray) can spice things up too.

and here's the thing about that last bit written: I don't want to end this entry glibly. i don't actually know how to end it, because it's ongoing. so again, to not do things as i normally do...