Last night my entire body ached. I came home at6:30pm, showered, crawled in bed, sent some emails, and was asleep by 8pm. I slept until 8:20am. Tonight, I am high on life. I saw art which made me cry and laugh all within 1 hour and 20 minutes, and left thinking that art can be very healing. Then on the bike ride home I realized that I get high on life a lot, and I got worried about what the withdrawals from that would be like. Like the period of time right after death might be really painful, because I will physically miss life.
I performed all last weekend, and today got an email from a colleague at CELLspace, the place where Dandelion has an office and I go to type, send emails, print things, and file things. He saw my show and wanted to share something that he had written years ago on grace and movement. Because I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind, and I'm also pretty sure no one reads this self-centered dump of a blog, here it is:
I am thinking of how I feel grace of movement
Standing near a heavy train as it approaches and passes. You can feel its weight and the strength that drives it. So full even the earth shakes with a slow rhythm.
Fully loaded A10 jet makes a screeching fast hard bank turn. You can feel its weight pressing impossibly on the air. Yet their movements are full of grace and with an undeniable purpose. Both push so much strength yet they are held in grace by just the slightest touch. Hit that curve in any thing less than curve of grace and risk it all.
You can feel it...
rock and the mountain are in a moving grace with each other.
The rock must move down the slope.
It matters not how long or the process, it will happen.
Rolling, falling, cracking and splitting on late frosty nights, pushed around by roots and menaced by moss. It must happen.
I like how he talks about the power behind grace. Or that grace exists within power. Grace is never something that I think about while dancing. I think about strength, I think about movement, I think about energy, I think about feeling and sensation and momentum. If grace emerges, it is a byproduct of fully engaging these other things. Like big moving iron things aren't build for grace, but for power, strength, and functionality.
I also like that the things he talks about are big things, because I've been noticing that I'm big lately. Not necessarily too big (although it is easy to go down that path), just comparatively to those who are built with skeletons half the size of my own, I am big. And I move large. Rarw, watch out.
Also, I always question whether it is only dancers that have this kinesthetic sense of movement, or a visceral connection to the feeling of how things move. It's validating to see that it's not just us, that's more of a human thing.
All weekend, when I was performing, I would drink a cup of coffee and listen to the Mountain Goats beforehand to calm down. Odd things to lean on? I don't give a damn. Works for me, and I love both of these things.
My roommate was listening to the Mountain Goats this morning, which is cool, because I didn't know that anyone else knew of them. So we had a mini bonding moment over the Mountain Goats and swapped CDs. Now I am listening to "No Children" on repeat.
I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow
I hope it bleeds all day long
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises
We're pretty sure they're all wrong
I hope it stays dark forever
I hope the worst isn't over
And I hope you blink before I do
Yeah I hope I never get sober
I wrote to Jeremy today in a stern yet diplomatic attempt to get what I need to be friends. Whether on not the approach will work, I don't know another way. If there's not a way for both of us to find and get what we need out of a friendship together, than I suppose the other option is nothing. Which I am actually okay with. It would be more than a little sad, because he is a spectacular human, and we were best friends for a long period, but if there is not a way for us to just be without the passive aggressive quibbling, than there's not a way. I can not and will not put in the amount of effort that dealing with that requires.
Both my roommies spend all their nights with their boyfriends. Which leaves me plenty of time to do annoying things like listen to one Mountain Goats song over and over and over and over again.
And I hope when you think of me years down the line
You can't find one good thing to say
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out
You'd stay the hell out of my way
I am drowning
There is no sign of land
You are coming down with me
Hand in unlovable hand
And I hope you die
I hope we both die
Anyway. Email boy isn't emailing me back, which is potentially leading me to move on and spend less energy composing emails. I haven't quite given up on it yet, but if no emails come in the next week, ah well, it was a good run of uncalled for giddiness and daydreams without potential.
There's something in an Anne of Green Gables book where she talks about how she'd rather get super duper excited about things and then be super duper disappointed when they didn't pull through than not feel super duper excited ever. I'm pretty sure Anne said it much more elegantly, and with more big words. I'm pretty sure I agree with her.
But Anne, my acupuncturist would say, that's hard on your adrenals. And stop drinking so much coffee.
Shut up, push play, and let it ride.