Life is Change (said the control freak)

“Start by doing what is necessary, then what is possible, and suddenly you’re doing the impossible.”

— St. Francis

My view while I’m teaching via Skype and Facebook Live.

I’ve been offering things online — even live streaming — probably for almost 8 years, so that part of what’s happening was pretty easy for me to adjust to. And I don’t mind teaching online. I get to stay home in my little space and the overhead is, well, nothing.

It’s not been as easy for my local students who were used to being in the same room with each other. But they have learned/noticed rather quickly that community is community whether it’s 3D or not. The energy of our work is not dependent on proximity. It’s dependent upon trust and vulnerability.

But this is not to say I have not been challenged. I have been… BIG TIME.

This change has sent me (as I’m sure it has many) into a time of profound questioning.

What do I want to do in this world and why and how do I want to do it?

Am I spending my time well?

What if every moment of our time here really really matters (it does) and what it we treated it that way (we don’t)?

Recently, I had made some decisions about the “branding” of my work. (Branding is the word that works but it’s not my favorite.)

I’ve come to realize that those decisions were based in a fear about my own vulnerability.

I freaking TEACH people to allow vulnerability, to feel it, to know that it’s the only path to our truest expressions.

And I have discovered that I myself was still shying away from it.

I don’t think I would have noticed this so quickly if it hadn’t been for what we are going through collectively. I think I could have continued to fool myself about myself for quite some time.

But here we are…

Having our protective layers forcibly removed by circumstances.

Every generation has defining moments like this, and if we are lucky and if we are already a bit awake (though groggy), we will notice and we will evolve.

I’m trying to focus on the truth of that.

Social Spacing is Not Social Distancing

Today I went to the edge of our lake to breathe and think for a few moments. There were a couple of other people on the same beach, but they were well far away from me. Then as I was just starting to think about leaving, the man to my left started to move in my direction.

I must have looked like a flushed deer. I skittered and quickened all the while trying not to look like I was running. (I am teasing myself here so feel free to laugh.)

He yelled from behind me (well beyond 6 feet…too many feet for me to estimate), “Have a good day!” in a friendly and slightly amused voice. I waved to him and smiled, trying to convey, “Sorry… I’m not ACTUALLY crazy… just for right now.”

On my way home, I saw kids at the local ice cream eatery that opens on April 1st on the peninsula (locals know who I’m talking about) and they were working, setting things up, but a few were on break, in little huddles, chatting and laughing. HOW COULD THEY? was my immediate thought.

At a corner drugstore, 3 bikers in leather, smoking, stood within inches of each other talking and I had to work very hard not to yell out my window, “SIX FEET, IDIOTS!” (Yep…)

This is where many of us are right now… paranoid and scared and overwhelmed and so very anxious, tempers probably shorter than ever (at least in my case).

Because… we are social animals, regardless of introvert/extrovert distinctions.

…we need human touch to thrive.

…we need to be witnessed by other humans directly on a regular basis (hello, mirror neurons).

…we need to feel SAFE in our environments to create anything of real meaning over the long haul.

…and speaking of safety, so many of us feel truly triggered by the AnxiousAir we are breathing, feeding old anxieties and traumas and bringing many such things back from the dead where we had worked hard to relegate them.

Social distancing to our social animal selves is not easy. Period. We hunger for life to feel more normal, to not feel like there is a TIGER outside our door every time we need to go get food.

In the meantime, I’m trying to think of this more as social spacing.

Distancing feels too hard, too cold.

Spacing… okay… my personal space is definitely bigger than it is usually treated even when we’re not in this kind of situation so I can deal with that language.

Distancing, though, can easily become our reality if we allow it.

So try some of the following:

1. Check in with people who live alone. They are very vulnerable right now. Message, zoom, whatever.

2. Use all the tech we have for GOOD. Create Skype parties. Or SALONS… as in the old use of that word, people coming together to have meaningful discussions. Play games!

3. Get outside. Even if you have to look nuttily protective of your barriers like me.

4. Make sure you’re moving every day. There are so many resources online for this. Including me. ((ha))

5. Try to feed your body like you love it… our immunity is so tied to how we eat.

6. Maybe write letters to loved ones! Actual letters!

7. Spend time every day in a quiet space in your mind and recognize what is GOOD.

8. Light candles and send out prayers. People always mock this as silly and unhelpful (I have strong opinion about why that is NOT true…), but we are all connected AND it can help us to feel not quite so powerless.

Do you have anything you’d add to this list?

Revolution through Body and Movement Subversion

From a remarkable student who understands this work so deeply, Donatella, speaking to me in a note and shared with her permission:

“What you do (movement art for the purpose of returning to the roots of movement as instinctive ritual, emotional catharsis, self exploration, physical improvements to biomechanical issues, and trauma bodily effects) is a complete subversion of the institutions and cultural ideas of “dance.” Especially considering your body and age inclusivity. By your nature, you are not a dancer; you are a movement artist, subverting everything wrong with the current culture around dance and women’s bodies. Your practices don’t damage the body, rather your practices heal the body. You teach the core essence of “dance” forms such as Butoh, Modern, etc., yet you don’t instruct people on rigid techniques and leave them to try to fit inside that. You don’t impose a body standard or an “ideal.” You don’t police the body of your artists. You embrace them and teach them that every single body is built to move and feel joy. You don’t kick people out after an imaginary age where they’re considered no longer palatable. You fight to keep people moving their whole damn lives so they can be in their bodies, experiencing physical life to the very end. You subvert everything about most of the things you were ever taught as a dancer, because fuck that.”

Reading that… it’s everything in my heart about this work and said in ways that I would never have been able to say it.

When I say this work is revolution, I am not speaking in hyperbole.

Daring to love ourselves just as we are? Daring to show ourselves when the culture says only certain types should be seen? Daring to take up all the damn space? Daring to do all of this in a community of women who only hold one another up, never acting toward one another in the ways we are taught from grade school?

When we dare in these ways, we come to know our full power.

And that scares the shit out of “them.”

Why Embodiment Work is Not "Exercise," Part One of MANY

NOTE: this was written way before we were at all aware of what was to come via this virus.

"Embodiment" is not just experienced on the individuated level. There is the body of family and the body of a circle of friends and the body of our society and many other bodies of which we are all members.

Our society's body is SICK right now. Obviously.

The process of healing BEGINS in the individual body that has been turned into a "disposable worker" in a large machine.

The process of healing begins in the individual body when we start to feel and BE IN these bodies in ways that the larger machine doesn't like. Meaning, when we become aware of our power.

We do that through creative expressions that put us back in touch with our original selves.

It saddens (and angers) me that we need "studies" and "numbers" to "prove" the truth of such obvious underlying truths.

First, by elevating certain intellectual pursuits, we clearly tell children that being good at A is way more important than being good at B.

What of the children who are so very excellent at B?

Second, this then creates our culture of blaming the poor for being poor in that people who were valued more in school for being good at A are then more valued in society and paid more for doing A.

Those who were good at other things that went unrecognized... then what?

Low paying jobs for the most part. With no insurance, no future security, etc.

Those people are then told to go back to school to "get better jobs."

HOW IS THERE A CONCEPT SUCH AS "BETTER" JOBS?

Is not all human labor and creativity inherently dignified if we treat it as such? Is not all human labor worthy of a livable income. Take that a step further: are not all HUMANS "worthy" of the basics no matter what?

And humans should be valued based on what they're naturally good at? We are so far away from what we are meant to be...

As if humans should be "valued" over other humans in any way whatsoever.

Anger

The lake was crazy today when we took a walk to see her. LOUD and VIOLENT in her waves and churning. The kind of water action that changes whole coastlines in amazingly short lengths of time.

She was mesmerizing.

And I kept thinking she was reminding me of Kali, the Hindu goddess that brings about death to make room for rebirth.

She’s a goddess that I have spent a lot of time with over the last six years.

I feel her rage inside of me, but unlike our lake or mother nature in general, I don’t feel like I have anywhere to put that sort of rage. I don’t have a coastline that I can recut.

Another title for Kali, though, is liberator of souls.

We can only be liberated once what is keeping us imprisoned is destroyed.

Right now, we’re in this strange, extremely uncomfortable (to put it mildly), frustrating, STUCK place, but it’s in these sorts of liminal spaces where it seems nothing is happening that everything is happening.

More people than ever are, for example, waking up to the fact that the way our current culture is structured is not working. People are dying from lack of healthcare and food. What about that is in any way civilized?

But we have, for too long, walked beside that fact, averting our eyes because it wasn’t touching us. Now it is or the possibility is more present than ever and that is enough to stir more than usual critical thinking.

People are waking up to the fact that a few people owning most of the world’s resources is maybe not only unfair but just, well, not longterm functional.

Raging, churning, screaming…

It’s a right and good rage. It’s a necessary churning. It’s a relief to be screaming and to finally be heard, even just a bit.

I have no answers. I have no idea where we’re headed or how to get there. It’s the nature of this space we’re in. All I have is feeling and observation, and for now, that has to be enough no matter how much I don’t like it.

Quiet...

I’ve always spent a lot of time at our Peninsula here on this Great Lake, and so going there to “blow the stink off,” as my Nana always said, is a natural reflex for me during this time of social isolation.

What’s surprising is the way we walk past each other with our guard up… swerving a bit as if to say, “there you go… there’s your six feet.”

We’re just generally… shyer with each other, aren’t we?

And because so many people are mainly staying at home, the other surprise is the QUIET. It’s that kind of quiet that you normally only hear on these paths during the winter months. Deep and thick with beauty and mystery. You hear your own breath and every sound that the trees and land around you have to offer, from subtle crackling of leaves to the bird calls beckoning from the summer that is still to come.

I don’t like why this gift has presented itself, but I will not turn this gift away.

When I’m walking along the lapping shore, I no longer bother with headphones and podcasts. When I’m walking, I’m no longer aiming to go faster and cover more ground.

When I’m walking, I’m just walking.

Do You Remember Why We Used to Blog?

I think I started blogging about 12 years ago or a bit more. It was when blogging was still all about writing and connecting and inspiring one another and creating community. It was exciting and new(ish) and it was before anyone was thinking about “monetizing.” Ads on blogs were barely ever seen and Amazon was only just about to create the affiliate program. (I may be off on some of these dates but this was my perception when I started.)

Some of you may still be around from when I started and you’ll remember that I began blogging under BlissChick. For the first year, I blogged seven days a week without missing, and then I transitioned to 5 days a week and stuck with that for some time. I had daily topics … you know, MusicBliss, BookBliss, InterviewBliss… you get it.

Blogging got me to love writing again, and the conversations that could ensue, even on a smallish blog like mine, were invigorating. We were making friends all over this globe. I loved watching my stats and seeing where my readers were coming from.

Some of the friends I made in those days are still friends to this day. Those friendships have deepened. I’ve met many of them in person. I was right about who they were every time but one! Pretty amazing stats.

Connections online are no less real than in 3D life. If you have shallow relationships in person, you’ll get the same virtually. If you’re a deep relationship person, the same will happen here. As I like to say, it’s all about the user, not at all about the tech.

Blogging like this changed my damn life and that is not hyperbole. I went to my very first dance based training at Kripalu because I felt a healthy and helpful obligation to my readers/friends to whom I had announced my intentions.

I would NOT have the life I have now had it not been for blogging.

So when someone I knew from way back when, Mindy Tsonas, announced she was going to start blogging again in this “old” way, I was immediately on board.

We need this now more than ever.

At the beginning of this year, I decided 2020 would be my year of beauty. Creating it, cultivating it, curating it.

If that sounds at all trite to you, then you don’t know beauty. Beauty is truth, vulnerability, passion. It has very little to do with aesthetics though there’s also that. The aesthetics, if it is true beauty, though, will always point to those deeper things…be merely a signpost pointing to something much more important.

And that is what Mindy intends to focus on… that sort of beauty… the kind that, again, creates connections and helps us to inspire one another and to be inspired … to be inspired, most importantly, to something MORE.

Thanks to Mindy, then, I’ll be here much more often again. I might even be setting up daily categories of content. For old time’s sake.

12 Years Ago You Would Not Have Known Me

In this photo, I think I am happy. I have just finished my Yoga Dance teacher training with the amazing Megha at Kripalu. My life felt like it finally had some meaning and purpose. I was starting to feel more like myself than I had in…forever.

And YET.

I look at this photo now and it makes me sad. I can see that it is me but it does not look like me, if that makes sense. There is something off about the eyes in particular. I think I look older in this photo from 11 years ago than I do now, as I approach 51 in mere weeks.

11 years ago, I was starting on this path that has led me to creating Bodypoetics, but oh, my, the distances I have had to cover before I got here.

The distances I had already covered before heading to Kripalu…

12 years ago, you would not have known me.

My body was much bigger, but that is just the outside, which for me is very much about the insides but that’s another post.

My eyes were empty, from over a decade of serious depression, and from living a lie of a life in every way.

My body was always and forever carrying some sort of pain — back, hips, migrained brain, and on and on with one chronic issue after another.

And oh, my, MY MIND.

I had been convinced that I did not like people, that I hated people.

I had been convinced that I did not ever want to be touched or hugged by anyone. BY ANYONE.

I had been convinced that my fears prevented me from pursuing good work or even leaving the house.

I had been convinced that I had this mental illness, then this one, then this one, then this one…all to keep me obsessed and paralyzed.

I had been convinced that getting professional help was a waste of time and wouldn’t help anyway. That pills were bad. That therapy was dumb.

These beliefs came to me from another human who counted on me staying down.

But there was plenty of inner shit to work with that I had been carrying since I was about 9.

I was already convinced that I was worthless.

I was already convinced that I had nothing of value to offer others.

I was already convinced that life was a burden, as was I to anyone.

12 years ago you would not have known me.

And then, long story short, a dear friend died and I attended the wedding of another and I started to dance and eventually met Megha, and well, the rest is (recent) history.

I do not know what compelled me to dance at that wedding.

I do not know what compelled me to go to Kripalu, and in so doing, face about 100 of my greatest fears.

12 years ago you would not have known me but that’s because I did not even know myself.

Somehow I am still alive.

Somehow I am getting real help and am surrounded by well meaning people who only want the best for me… finally.

Somehow, every day, I get up and believe in my vision of me just enough more than I believe in that old version of me. Just enough to keep me going, to keep me trying and hoping.