Hibernation time, and my mind is running slow as … well, I can’t think of a decent simile, so sluggish are my thoughts and creativity. Last weekend, I danced for first time in what seriously felt like forever (just four weeks actually). The group organized by Shauna Curtis in Duncan, B.C. was again led by the (insert fabulous, over-the-top, entirely justified adjective here) Joanne Winstanley, who took us on a merry journey from Macey Gray to Tchaikovsky as she gently broke down the post-holiday ennui some of us were feeling. Still, I could not shake the tightness. Physically I felt ancient, trapped in stone. And emotionally I was distant and withdrawn even during moments of connection with others on the floor. Guarded heart to the point where the Tin Man wonders whether he’s even got one. Self-absorbed and feeling sorry for myself – another spoilt, whiny North American ‘have’ who fences with phantasms while the real world cries out for actions as clear and purpose-driven as that modeled for us by Lucie Nerot in the previous post.
So once again I was struck by how fast I slip back into my habitual alienation. A month ago at the warm, communal close of Amara’s Body School, I had the sure knowledge that I’d figured it all out, that I’d finally awoken my intuitive intelligence and would forever walk forward in this world with rooted confidence and an easy smile. Relaxed, grounded, my shite together at last. Hahaha. Wrong again. The ruts are deep, the life-long predisposition to being isolated and stuck in my head won’t be shaken so easily. Gravity dictates that the rock will always roll back down the hill until Atlas finally learns how to do the shrug.
Happily, with this practice, the well is deep, the opportunities for diving in as plentiful as time and budget allows. L5R is next, and I depart for it with both eager anticipation and the same rather queasy, uneasy jitters as I carried with me last year. Experience now tells me (as others have said repeatedly) that the hardest part is showing up. Once there I am all but guaranteed 10,000 joys and some (if not quite so many) sorrows and shadows as well. Yes, it is an wild gift to dance for hours on end with others who share this same mad passion. And here’s my truth: I’ve never encountered community of this kind before. I feel held and mirrored and unapologetically myself. If but life could be one long workshop. (continues ... of course)
My question for this year and beyond: How do I retain this sense of connection for longer than the 48-hour afterglow? Can I finally find a way to translate the sense of limitless possibility and love that rises up on those rare & special Sunday afternoons into a life of purpose here where I spin words and earn a living? Will I ever truly appreciate how blessed I am to have the freedom, health and security to even pose these questions? Finally, can I ever write one of these entries at somewhat less than War & Peace length? Hola and out. - Jeff.
