Friday, December 4, 2009

notes on a man who immediately needs a unicycle

I've been spending more time with the Dandelions this fall, an experience which often leaves me in a slightly awe-struck space, gently shaking my head in with a weird twisted up half-grin on my face, with one phrase going through my head, "What has become of my life?"

Lately, I have seen: two grown men playing dress-up with a matronly pair of glitter gowns, a man teaching the circle of fifths in his underwear, a man lifting another man in a wheelchair over his head. And lately, I have: sung the circle of descending fourths in arpeggiated scales, been top and bottom on a Balkan melody, wrestled until ten o'clock at night, and had several conversations over the course of 2 days about how to get a unicycle to a man who needs it immediately.

Not that I object to any of it, I just wonder where it all came from, and how it stemmed so naturally out of practicing pointing my toes for so many years.

I've been reflecting on that my life feels 10 steps ahead of me, as if it's taking its own direction, and I'm left struggling to keep up. I feel as if all of my choices are made by the course of events, and all I have to do is work. This is the circumstance of living that has gotten me to creating dance installations in an art gallery, pursuing teaching basic ballet to adults, and bonding with the program manager of a major foundation about the craziness of a day in arts administration.

For example, and then I'll close this entry, at 8pm last night I told a friend, "I'm not planning on doing any more of my own work anytime soon."

By 10pm life had told me differently, and I think more is coming.