these are the songs my ipod randomly delivered to my ears today that. just. made. me. happy.
silence - portishead
analyse (from the basement recordings) - thom yorke
uncle ray - looper
picture of jesus - ben harper
all is full of love - björk
baby doll - cat power
closedown - the cure
a movie script ending - death cab for cutie
plastic - portishead
clubbed to death - rob dougan
tomorrow night - patty griffin
blindfold - morcheeba
ab's song - iron & wine
in my heart - moby
dictionary.com word of the day:
gloaming \GLOH-ming\, noun: twilight; dusk; a good radiohead song.
currently listening to: my ipod on shuffle.
10.31.2008
.jpg)
10.30.2008
topsy turvy town
i put down is the new up on repeat this morning and it took me all the way to work. i was even excited about the changes. maybe staying. maybe moving. for the first time since shit hit the fan with my housing situation i felt not only okay, but excited.
and here it is. thank you, again, thom.
down is the new up - radiohead
and here it is. thank you, again, thom.
down is the new up - radiohead
get yourself together
let the light pour in
pour yourself a hot bath,
pour yourself a drink
nothing's gonna happen
without a warning
down is the new up
what is up, buttercup
down is the new up, is the new up
won’t you be my girl
won’t you be my girl…
your services are not required
your future's bleak,
you're so last week
ladies and gentlemen,
without a safety net
i shall now perform an 180 flip-flop
i shall now amputate,
i shall now contort
because down is the new up
that if i just flip-flopped?
down is the new up
down is the new up
down is the new up, is the new up
you crawled off and left us
crawled off and left us
crawled off and left us
you bastard
you're on candid camera
the chink in your armor
topsy turvy town,
topsy turvy town
shake your pockets out
pass it on, pass it down
topsy turvy town,
topsy turvy town…
let the light pour in
pour yourself a hot bath,
pour yourself a drink
nothing's gonna happen
without a warning
down is the new up
what is up, buttercup
down is the new up, is the new up
won’t you be my girl
won’t you be my girl…
your services are not required
your future's bleak,
you're so last week
ladies and gentlemen,
without a safety net
i shall now perform an 180 flip-flop
i shall now amputate,
i shall now contort
because down is the new up
that if i just flip-flopped?
down is the new up
down is the new up
down is the new up, is the new up
you crawled off and left us
crawled off and left us
crawled off and left us
you bastard
you're on candid camera
the chink in your armor
topsy turvy town,
topsy turvy town
shake your pockets out
pass it on, pass it down
topsy turvy town,
topsy turvy town…
10.29.2008
triple threat
this week in the artist's way, we're asked to give up reading for the week. no novels. no newspapers. no internet news. whatever. many people are threatened by this, but it's not my thing. it's not the obstacle i face in cutting to the chase and getting on with my life. we discussed this in the art mentoring group that meets to work through the course and most of us agreed that this was not our battle. reading is actually a sign i'm doing something healthy. i'm either at the gym on the elliptical or taking a moment's breather in my life and savoring a story.
so we got to brainstorming the things that might be our battle. what are the activities that are a time suck? a minion of that evil foe, procrastination? a ready excuse for not doing the thing i really need/want the most at that time? what would threaten me most if you said i couldn't do it? even for a week.
1. doing things for other people.
2. being creative.
3. checking things off to do lists {even just mental ones}.
last friday night, i forced myself to not doing anything i should all day. it was my second day of recovery and i did a pretty good job most of the day just doing what i wanted (including eating breakfast of crunchy puff chips). i didn't leave the house all day. just made/ate good food and read and lounged. but on toward the evening i got the itch where i just wanted to do something important. like a project. or a task or something that would be on a list that i could cross off, even something as simple as feeding my plants or straightening the surface of my desk.
but i drew a hard and fast line. this was a day of rest. sacred sabbath. take a bath. relax. but i had hit a wall of restlessness. frustration. uselessness. and i didn't know what to do.
lingering in this discomfort, i realized i use the tasks, even the wonderful ones i savor, as a way of hiding from this layer of self-critical mush. it was not an attractive part of me, but i forced myself to not just cover it up with noise {even pretty noise of art making or postcard writing or cleaning or anything "productive"}.
eventually i settled down with a book and plowed through to the end. it was the book thief. and it was a beautiful ending that needed to be read at home {as opposed to in public, like on an elliptical}, but i so rarely give myself the time and space to read for the sake of reading these days. i don't take time to relax.
it's always the relentless pressure to do to do to do to do todotodotodotodotodotodo and it never ends. and it encroaches on my time to sleep and my time to be. so i'm ungrounded and less efficient and feel the need to consume my time with things of capital "s" Significance and in turn i have to burn the midnight oil and get not enough sleep the next night too. und so weiter. und so weiter.
vicious cycle.
and i know i wanted to take these ideas further, but it's midnight and i just can't be bothered.
yes. shocking i know. typically sleep has the last priority. not that i'll be cashing in the hours tonight, but it's a start.
and so, goodnight.
so we got to brainstorming the things that might be our battle. what are the activities that are a time suck? a minion of that evil foe, procrastination? a ready excuse for not doing the thing i really need/want the most at that time? what would threaten me most if you said i couldn't do it? even for a week.
1. doing things for other people.
2. being creative.
3. checking things off to do lists {even just mental ones}.
last friday night, i forced myself to not doing anything i should all day. it was my second day of recovery and i did a pretty good job most of the day just doing what i wanted (including eating breakfast of crunchy puff chips). i didn't leave the house all day. just made/ate good food and read and lounged. but on toward the evening i got the itch where i just wanted to do something important. like a project. or a task or something that would be on a list that i could cross off, even something as simple as feeding my plants or straightening the surface of my desk.
but i drew a hard and fast line. this was a day of rest. sacred sabbath. take a bath. relax. but i had hit a wall of restlessness. frustration. uselessness. and i didn't know what to do.
lingering in this discomfort, i realized i use the tasks, even the wonderful ones i savor, as a way of hiding from this layer of self-critical mush. it was not an attractive part of me, but i forced myself to not just cover it up with noise {even pretty noise of art making or postcard writing or cleaning or anything "productive"}.
eventually i settled down with a book and plowed through to the end. it was the book thief. and it was a beautiful ending that needed to be read at home {as opposed to in public, like on an elliptical}, but i so rarely give myself the time and space to read for the sake of reading these days. i don't take time to relax.
it's always the relentless pressure to do to do to do to do todotodotodotodotodotodo and it never ends. and it encroaches on my time to sleep and my time to be. so i'm ungrounded and less efficient and feel the need to consume my time with things of capital "s" Significance and in turn i have to burn the midnight oil and get not enough sleep the next night too. und so weiter. und so weiter.
vicious cycle.
and i know i wanted to take these ideas further, but it's midnight and i just can't be bothered.
yes. shocking i know. typically sleep has the last priority. not that i'll be cashing in the hours tonight, but it's a start.
and so, goodnight.
the stone gods
i received a lovelylovely package in the mail several weeks ago and the main feature was a book passed on my by dearling cousin, katie.
jeanette winterson's the stone gods.
so many passages are being underlined. purple pen. pencil. what ever is handy. one page even dogeared {the 3rd quote down}.
here are just a few moment's of this book's glory:
the truth is that i've spent all my life with my binoculars trained on the Maybe Islands, a pristine place of fantasy that is really no better than the razor-rocks of misery...maybe if i'd met the right person years ago, maybe if i hadn't done this or that or, its cousin, the other. maybe, baby, that promised land was there and i missed it. look at it glittering in the light. but the truth is i am inventing the maybe. i can only make the choices i make, so why torture myself with what i might have done, when all i can handle is what i have done? the Maybe Islands are hostile to human life.
and
there is a white that contains all the colours of the world but this white was its mockery. this was the white at the end of the world when nothing is left, not the past, not the present and, most fearful of all, not the future. there was no future in this bleached and boiled place. nothing, not wild, not strange, not tiny, not vile, no good thing, no bad, could begin life again here. the world was a white-out.
and
what to say when the certainties fail? words are the part of silence that can be spoken.
and
i know that inside the story told is the story that cannot be told. every word written is a net to catch the word that has escaped.
she is an elegant and stately writer and her images are there to be savored. like a piece of rich chocolate slowly melting on the tongue. the aftertaste is heavenly.
currently listening to: tabula rasa: ludus & silentium - arvo pärt
jeanette winterson's the stone gods.
so many passages are being underlined. purple pen. pencil. what ever is handy. one page even dogeared {the 3rd quote down}.
here are just a few moment's of this book's glory:
the truth is that i've spent all my life with my binoculars trained on the Maybe Islands, a pristine place of fantasy that is really no better than the razor-rocks of misery...maybe if i'd met the right person years ago, maybe if i hadn't done this or that or, its cousin, the other. maybe, baby, that promised land was there and i missed it. look at it glittering in the light. but the truth is i am inventing the maybe. i can only make the choices i make, so why torture myself with what i might have done, when all i can handle is what i have done? the Maybe Islands are hostile to human life.
and
there is a white that contains all the colours of the world but this white was its mockery. this was the white at the end of the world when nothing is left, not the past, not the present and, most fearful of all, not the future. there was no future in this bleached and boiled place. nothing, not wild, not strange, not tiny, not vile, no good thing, no bad, could begin life again here. the world was a white-out.
and
what to say when the certainties fail? words are the part of silence that can be spoken.
and
i know that inside the story told is the story that cannot be told. every word written is a net to catch the word that has escaped.
she is an elegant and stately writer and her images are there to be savored. like a piece of rich chocolate slowly melting on the tongue. the aftertaste is heavenly.
currently listening to: tabula rasa: ludus & silentium - arvo pärt
meisner - day 11
someone in class said i looked like a drown rat. not an indication of how mean the other kids (i acutally one of the youngest in class) are, but more along the lines of how much losing my home was nagging at me. not something i could leave at the door. and the warmup we did was glorious. a freeform activitity with two rules.
1. you can only move across the floor in an xy grid pattern as though our paths were an intricate piece of graph paper put on the floor.
2. the freestanding rule of the space: you can't hurt yourself or another person.
other than that, anything was possible.
but i couldn't play. i felt sulky. exhausted. sludging through myself and the loss of my dearling space. but there were moments where i burst out of it so suddenly and unexpectedly. one student in particular: this sprite/pixie of a person with a radiant, bubbly life that swirls about her. her energy is contagious and when i got within her sphere, the play emerged. and it was a dance. and it was shy. and she asked can you come and play and i replied of course! and i realized how much shorter she is. and again how delicate. and what pure joy there can be between two people.
other moments of connection came and went. and i know myself to be an engager, but i was quieter today. and i know i want to learn how to leave things at the door while still being present in myself and giving it to the work. and i had one of those moments. with another student. one from the play we did. and in the play, our characters had this maniac frenzy of celebrating and jumping up and down and giggling and it resurfaced suddenly in this exercise. but it was just the starting point. and suddenly we were filled with this overpowering, almost defiant laughter. it was strong and sad and out of control and we were jumping up and down holding hands. and i felt my grief just exploding into the laughter and informing it and coloring it, but not getting in the way at the same time. it's like i was moving in two directions as once.
it was really freeing.
then came the activity. we have progressed to where the person in the room has an activity that they are doing. it is for someone important and you strive to do something possible not probable. mine was for a person and project combination i won't mention because i think i actually want to do it and it would work best as a surprise {you are reading this and you don't even know yet :}. but the victory in this was how easy it was for me to do it. to focus. to be honestly and truthfully in that space. and yet, to hold on to my partner and engage with her and respond and be honest to her too. my jaw muscles {often a good indication of tension} were silent and painless and time eased by despite this weird batch of nerves. nothing got in the way of me just being.
and the feedback from robin: was simply to ensure i had enough materials to finish the project (i did) and to comment on how relaxed i was, particularly my face.
and feedback from a student while walking to the bathroom: that i had made a lot of progress. that i was really in the moment. that i was truthful.
all these things are reminders for me to be patient and trust myself and the process. i have been pretty hard on myself this past week or so in this feeling that i wasn't making any progress, or at least that i couldn't feel myself making progress. after the collosal growth of a few weeks ago i feel like the plateau of processing i hit immediately after was somehow stagnating or, even worse, backtracking. but here is progress/growth/movement always present to surprise me when i least expect it.
currently listening to: be here now - ray lamontange
1. you can only move across the floor in an xy grid pattern as though our paths were an intricate piece of graph paper put on the floor.
2. the freestanding rule of the space: you can't hurt yourself or another person.
other than that, anything was possible.
but i couldn't play. i felt sulky. exhausted. sludging through myself and the loss of my dearling space. but there were moments where i burst out of it so suddenly and unexpectedly. one student in particular: this sprite/pixie of a person with a radiant, bubbly life that swirls about her. her energy is contagious and when i got within her sphere, the play emerged. and it was a dance. and it was shy. and she asked can you come and play and i replied of course! and i realized how much shorter she is. and again how delicate. and what pure joy there can be between two people.
other moments of connection came and went. and i know myself to be an engager, but i was quieter today. and i know i want to learn how to leave things at the door while still being present in myself and giving it to the work. and i had one of those moments. with another student. one from the play we did. and in the play, our characters had this maniac frenzy of celebrating and jumping up and down and giggling and it resurfaced suddenly in this exercise. but it was just the starting point. and suddenly we were filled with this overpowering, almost defiant laughter. it was strong and sad and out of control and we were jumping up and down holding hands. and i felt my grief just exploding into the laughter and informing it and coloring it, but not getting in the way at the same time. it's like i was moving in two directions as once.
it was really freeing.
then came the activity. we have progressed to where the person in the room has an activity that they are doing. it is for someone important and you strive to do something possible not probable. mine was for a person and project combination i won't mention because i think i actually want to do it and it would work best as a surprise {you are reading this and you don't even know yet :}. but the victory in this was how easy it was for me to do it. to focus. to be honestly and truthfully in that space. and yet, to hold on to my partner and engage with her and respond and be honest to her too. my jaw muscles {often a good indication of tension} were silent and painless and time eased by despite this weird batch of nerves. nothing got in the way of me just being.
and the feedback from robin: was simply to ensure i had enough materials to finish the project (i did) and to comment on how relaxed i was, particularly my face.
and feedback from a student while walking to the bathroom: that i had made a lot of progress. that i was really in the moment. that i was truthful.
all these things are reminders for me to be patient and trust myself and the process. i have been pretty hard on myself this past week or so in this feeling that i wasn't making any progress, or at least that i couldn't feel myself making progress. after the collosal growth of a few weeks ago i feel like the plateau of processing i hit immediately after was somehow stagnating or, even worse, backtracking. but here is progress/growth/movement always present to surprise me when i least expect it.
currently listening to: be here now - ray lamontange
10.28.2008
no surprises
i just found out i'll have to move out. soon. very very soon. i want to curl up and cry. i love my space. i love my space. i love my space. i can't even explain how much i have been happy there in my two rooms. how perfect i have tended and arranged them. my yellow room and my blue room. a little perch on the top floor with sunlight galore and not two but three closets for my art and clothes and photo albums. it was made to order and i have to leave.
this feels wrong. this feels like the universe gone awry. for the second time this year i feel like everything is spinning contrary to my intuitive understanding of the right & true path.
how am i off course again?
why is it always out of my control?
this feels wrong. this feels like the universe gone awry. for the second time this year i feel like everything is spinning contrary to my intuitive understanding of the right & true path.
how am i off course again?
why is it always out of my control?
a heart that's full up like a landfill,
a job that slowly kills you,
bruises that won't heal.
you look so tired-unhappy,
bring down the government,
they don't, they don't speak for us.
i'll take a quiet life,
a handshake of carbon monoxide,
with no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
silent silent.
this is my final fit,
my final bellyache,
with no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises please.
such a pretty house
and such a pretty garden.
no alarms and no surprises (get me outta here),
no alarms and no surprises (get me outta here),
no alarms and no surprises, please.
currently listening to: no surprises, gagging order & wolf at the door - radiohead
lyrics: no surprises - radiohead
new york city colour study
i heart this man.
every day for the past 251+ days he has taken a photo out his window in new york city.
isn't it a lovely tapestry? i want a quilt like this. or maybe a mural on my wall. this image makes my soul sing.
image: michael surtees http://designnotes.info/
10.27.08 10:15am
http://www.ten15am.com/
titled everything in its right place compliments of my friend who just bestowed on me many many tracks of live radiohead. yuuum.
.jpg)
listening to at the time: radiohead - everything in its right place
titled everything in its right place compliments of my friend who just bestowed on me many many tracks of live radiohead. yuuum.
.jpg)
listening to at the time: radiohead - everything in its right place
10.27.2008
meisner - day 10
we did another touch based exercise last night. we sculpted each other into shapes and formations and as the sculpture and sculptor alike, we were encouraged to allow whatever images/sensations we had to surface. i was surprised at how many images were derivatives of the world of the book thief. at points i was hiding with a pack of fugitives. at other times i was living impoverished and scourging for food. a lot of desperation and extreme states of being.
at one point, i had an extended section where my body was the one being sculpted and shaped and i was being rolled along the floor. there was this tangible surrender of control to the other person. complete. and the experience that came to mind was of being a corpse, casually being moved. i have had dreams of dying and being dead {yes, you can die in dreams} and there has always been a significant element of tragedy associated with those deaths, but sunday night i felt this blessed sense of bestowing my life in an other's hands. it was no longer mine to wield and i could just rest and be moved as an object. i don't know if this was another part of the book thief's influence. death was such a gentle narrator and caring of the souls given to his care {even in the face of such a relentless and sempiternal task} that i wouldn't mind being put in his hands. whatever the source, i didn't want to let go of the experience.
there was one other image that really moved me. at the end we took turns walking around and viewing different tableau's that students made in their final frozen moments. these two were sitting side by side on the ground, hands overlapped and intertwined on the floor, heads just a few inches apart and arms growing straight up from the ground. their bodies didn't touch, but they arched around each other in this elegant curve. torsos spooning and a beautiful buffer of negative space caressing them both. there was something so alive and joyful about their pose. a discovery had just been made and it radiated out from them. it was really sweet in the most tender and genuine of ways. vividly fresh. and painfully graceful.
as for the meisner work itself. i'm on a plateau. and that's okay. for a while it felt like i was backtracking or stuck because i wasn't making the catalystic growth of the week before. my head knows i'm really just in a processing period and crouching for my next leap forward. tuesday's class: here we go!
at one point, i had an extended section where my body was the one being sculpted and shaped and i was being rolled along the floor. there was this tangible surrender of control to the other person. complete. and the experience that came to mind was of being a corpse, casually being moved. i have had dreams of dying and being dead {yes, you can die in dreams} and there has always been a significant element of tragedy associated with those deaths, but sunday night i felt this blessed sense of bestowing my life in an other's hands. it was no longer mine to wield and i could just rest and be moved as an object. i don't know if this was another part of the book thief's influence. death was such a gentle narrator and caring of the souls given to his care {even in the face of such a relentless and sempiternal task} that i wouldn't mind being put in his hands. whatever the source, i didn't want to let go of the experience.
there was one other image that really moved me. at the end we took turns walking around and viewing different tableau's that students made in their final frozen moments. these two were sitting side by side on the ground, hands overlapped and intertwined on the floor, heads just a few inches apart and arms growing straight up from the ground. their bodies didn't touch, but they arched around each other in this elegant curve. torsos spooning and a beautiful buffer of negative space caressing them both. there was something so alive and joyful about their pose. a discovery had just been made and it radiated out from them. it was really sweet in the most tender and genuine of ways. vividly fresh. and painfully graceful.
as for the meisner work itself. i'm on a plateau. and that's okay. for a while it felt like i was backtracking or stuck because i wasn't making the catalystic growth of the week before. my head knows i'm really just in a processing period and crouching for my next leap forward. tuesday's class: here we go!
i can already tell it's going to be a good year.
as i just exited a year of my life that started with a fairly eventful birthday and maintained a similar level of uncomfortable intensity throughout the year, i am happy to say this weekend was along the lines of how i would like this year to unfold.
i was surrounded by lovely people.
i had a sweet and gentle gathering of chums around amazing food and a campfire complete with chi chi s'mores, frivolity and sparklers galore.
i got a sassy haircut {the shortest it's been since i was 4 or 5}.
and, the look is completed by the pink leather jacket by cache with its tags still on it that i picked up at a local rummage sale. {yes, pink. trust me it works. everyone of every age that saw me in it said yes}.
and, to top it off, i got a few sweet and unexpected reminders from people with a y chromosome that i am a woman. :}
26, bring it on.
10.26.2008
10.25.2008
yes.
from eat pray love, elizabeth gilbert"groceries," richard says, "listen to me. someday you're gonna look back on this moment of your life as such a sweet time of grieving. you'll see that you were in mourning and your heart was broken, but your life was changing and you were in the best possible place in the world for it--in a beautiful place of worship, surrounded by grace. take this time, every minute of it. let things work themselves out..."
"but i really loved him."
"big deal. so you fell in love with someone. don't you see what happened? this guy touched a place in your heart deeper than you thought you were capable of reaching, i mean you got zapped, kiddo. but that love you felt, that's just the beginning. you just got a taste of love. that's just limited little rinky-dink mortal love. wait till you see how much more deeply you can love than that...
"people think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. but a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that's holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. a true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake...soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. and thank god for it. your problem is, you just can't let this one go. it's over, groceries. david's purpose was to shake you up, drive you out of that marriage that you needed to leave, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you had to transform your life...that was his job and he did great but now it's over. problem is, you can't accept that this relationship had a real short shelf life. you're like a dog at the dump, baby--you're just lickin' at an empty tin can, trying to get more nutrition out of it. and if you're not careful, that can's gonna get stuck on your snout forever and make your life miserable. so drop it."
"but i love him."
"so love him."
"but i miss him."
"so miss him...you're just afraid to let go of the last bits of david because then you'll really be alone, and you are scared to death of what will happen if you are really alone. but here's what you gotta understand, groceries. if you clear out all that space in your mind that you're using right now...you'll have a vacuum there, an open spot--a doorway. and guess what the universe will do with that doorway? it will rush in...and fill you with more love than you ever dreamed. stop using david to block the door. let it go."
"but i wish me and david could--"
he cuts me off. "see, now that's you're problem. you're wishin' too much, baby. you gotta stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone outta be."
this line gives me the first laugh of the day.
then i ask richard, "so how long will it be before all this grieving passes?"
"you want an exact date?"
"yes."
"something' you can circle on your calendar?"
"yes."
"lemme tell you something, groceries--you got some serious control issues."
evidently richard is from texas. eden nailed the twang. it was a masterful reading.
currently listening to: cold war kids while eden makes me a cake
10.24.2008
the book thief {part three}
...the sky was the best blue of the afternoon. like her papa, her soul was sitting up.
from the book thief - markus zusak
from the book thief - markus zusak
the book thief {part two}
i just finished. and i have no words.
yes, i knew i would feel this way, but i say it again: i wish i had written this book.
it is brilliant. and it steps on my heart. every page. every image. every word.
the book thief
page 491 {no spoilers}
a quick refresher in case you missed the introduction: this is a tale told by death.
a human doesn't have a heart like mine. the human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and i have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. the consequence of this is that i'm always finding humans at their best and worst. i see their ugly and their beauty, and i wonder how the same thing can be both. still, they have one thing i envy. humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.
{excerpt from the book by markus zusak}
a quick refresher in case you missed the introduction: this is a tale told by death.
a human doesn't have a heart like mine. the human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and i have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. the consequence of this is that i'm always finding humans at their best and worst. i see their ugly and their beauty, and i wonder how the same thing can be both. still, they have one thing i envy. humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.
{excerpt from the book by markus zusak}
restlessness
i can't let myself not "do" something. it's been a struggle today to just be at home and not find little chores and things for me to do. accomplish. check off a list. i stayed home sick today to give myself another day of recovery, which i think was needed. even standing up for the duration of my shower and cooking two fried eggs was exhausting, but at the same time i have enough energy to finish my packages for ellie and ross, rinse and spray the two plants i have that are breeding the little white flies. sweep my floor in my room, etc.
it's just really rare for me to sit in quiet spaces and not feel the driving need to complete something. i've realized today how much satisfaction i derive from that process and it's not healthy. i won't let myself rest. i rarely let myself relax. i think it's part of the reason i haven't seen many movies in the past few months. i've let this driving force kill some of my loves and leave them by the wayside.
what other things have i abandoned?
reading for the joy of reading (not as an incentive to go to the gym and stay on the elliptical for 45-60 minutes)
writing letters and postcards
sending care packages
knitting
contact improv
cooking
going on walks
the list continues
it's just really rare for me to sit in quiet spaces and not feel the driving need to complete something. i've realized today how much satisfaction i derive from that process and it's not healthy. i won't let myself rest. i rarely let myself relax. i think it's part of the reason i haven't seen many movies in the past few months. i've let this driving force kill some of my loves and leave them by the wayside.
what other things have i abandoned?
reading for the joy of reading (not as an incentive to go to the gym and stay on the elliptical for 45-60 minutes)
writing letters and postcards
sending care packages
knitting
contact improv
cooking
going on walks
the list continues
another nightmare
from a letter to a friend:
blech, woke up from some really disturbing dreams right at the end. the boxes i have with all of our family photos were also filled with dead concentration camp survivors. there were bugs. and lice. and lots of tragically thin bodies. really upsetting. i know exactly where it came from. a girl at work {i still don't know what she was thinking} sent a powerpoint to us with: "sorry i can't translate, but you have to see the pictures." no warning. nothing.
mind you, we tend to pass along silly animal photos, power points of dubai in all its glory, etc. interesting. funny. innocuous things. and i open this one up to find piles and piles of bodies. emaciated figures. it took me completely by surprise and after a few clicks, i shut it as tears started to prick my eyes. it didn't help that i am reading a book right now that takes place in a small town in germany during world war two. a family is/was hiding a jew. the story is narrated by death, so he saw many of these bodies.
that was a few weeks ago, so it's interesting that it chose today to haunt me. i can still see all the little organisms crawling over the bodies. i want to wash my brain out with soap. and i think the worst thing was knowing that it somehow came from our history. the photo albums were gone. or maybe just covered up.
currently listening to: my neighbor practice some sort of {slightly annoying} instrument
blech, woke up from some really disturbing dreams right at the end. the boxes i have with all of our family photos were also filled with dead concentration camp survivors. there were bugs. and lice. and lots of tragically thin bodies. really upsetting. i know exactly where it came from. a girl at work {i still don't know what she was thinking} sent a powerpoint to us with: "sorry i can't translate, but you have to see the pictures." no warning. nothing.
mind you, we tend to pass along silly animal photos, power points of dubai in all its glory, etc. interesting. funny. innocuous things. and i open this one up to find piles and piles of bodies. emaciated figures. it took me completely by surprise and after a few clicks, i shut it as tears started to prick my eyes. it didn't help that i am reading a book right now that takes place in a small town in germany during world war two. a family is/was hiding a jew. the story is narrated by death, so he saw many of these bodies.
that was a few weeks ago, so it's interesting that it chose today to haunt me. i can still see all the little organisms crawling over the bodies. i want to wash my brain out with soap. and i think the worst thing was knowing that it somehow came from our history. the photo albums were gone. or maybe just covered up.
currently listening to: my neighbor practice some sort of {slightly annoying} instrument
10.23.2008
a pattern emerges
when i'm sick i always hit a point of anger. how dare my body do this to me. this is a betrayal. an injustice.
the anger is laced with helplessness. i can't possibly take more antibiotics just a month and a half after the last dose. i can't stop the pain. i can't control this relapse. will there be more?
at some point, depending on the circumstances, i hit a wall of grief {usually aided and abetted by exhaustion and pain}, and it lets me curl up and release. it might be 30 seconds, it might be 10 minutes. but it flows from me with a purity and ease that always amazes me. a young child takes the helm and makes herself known. and then it's gone and i move on.
i realize what has to happen and put one foot in front of the other and move calmly towards the goal. i get up at 1am and buy 100% cranberry juice. i pick out a comfort read on the shelf to distract me from my body. i draw up a bath. i send in my email to my boss saying i won't make it to work the next day. and later i make the phone calls, doctors appointments, and pharmacy runs. these things move forward and i am {not resigned. not hopeless. just....} matter of fact.
then i find a place where i can actually care for myself. baby myself. treat myself with tenderness. these are the moments where i find a nice comfort food and purchase it no matter how frivolous {today it was "tings" - these lovely crunchy chips - and organic red grapes}. i while away hours in bed with a book and rest without a thought of how else i can/should spend my time. dishes get left undone. i eat whenever/whatever i fancy. i give myself a freer reign. i give voice to my whims and my exhaustion without censorship or excuses.
and, something i've noticed before but never fully articulated: i don't listen to music. it takes up too much energy and requires too much effort to participate in the space it creates. and this tells me how much music stirs me.
and it tells me that i have better boundaries when i'm sick. i can go there. i can't go there. things are clear.
i listen to myself and treat her well.
currently listening to: nothing. blessed nothing.
the anger is laced with helplessness. i can't possibly take more antibiotics just a month and a half after the last dose. i can't stop the pain. i can't control this relapse. will there be more?
at some point, depending on the circumstances, i hit a wall of grief {usually aided and abetted by exhaustion and pain}, and it lets me curl up and release. it might be 30 seconds, it might be 10 minutes. but it flows from me with a purity and ease that always amazes me. a young child takes the helm and makes herself known. and then it's gone and i move on.
i realize what has to happen and put one foot in front of the other and move calmly towards the goal. i get up at 1am and buy 100% cranberry juice. i pick out a comfort read on the shelf to distract me from my body. i draw up a bath. i send in my email to my boss saying i won't make it to work the next day. and later i make the phone calls, doctors appointments, and pharmacy runs. these things move forward and i am {not resigned. not hopeless. just....} matter of fact.
then i find a place where i can actually care for myself. baby myself. treat myself with tenderness. these are the moments where i find a nice comfort food and purchase it no matter how frivolous {today it was "tings" - these lovely crunchy chips - and organic red grapes}. i while away hours in bed with a book and rest without a thought of how else i can/should spend my time. dishes get left undone. i eat whenever/whatever i fancy. i give myself a freer reign. i give voice to my whims and my exhaustion without censorship or excuses.
and, something i've noticed before but never fully articulated: i don't listen to music. it takes up too much energy and requires too much effort to participate in the space it creates. and this tells me how much music stirs me.
and it tells me that i have better boundaries when i'm sick. i can go there. i can't go there. things are clear.
i listen to myself and treat her well.
currently listening to: nothing. blessed nothing.
10.22.2008
radiohead nightmare
i think it was sometime this weekend that i had a dream about radiohead.
i was seeing them play, and it was the santa barbara trip, but everything about it was wrong. the venue was ugly and sparsely filled. thom was a fat, old man with a hairy chest and no shirt. he was pathetic. the music was awful. and i was put off. the dream began not too soon before i realized it was the last part of the encore and i should be paying attention, this should be important, but i just couldn't get past the distaste. later, i watched my friend who got me into the after party {in real life} walk up to security and wave his pass and go in without a backward glance. i tried to get his attention, but he was already moving away. in the dream, it wasn't that he didn't know me, but somehow that i was being disregarded. ignored.
it was a really disturbing dream that i can't seem to shake and it's been surfacing at unexpected moments. like in the aftermath of monday's pretty tough meisner session where a lot of things i didn't want to look at lingered just beyond the reach of words. i couldn't make the last leap to articulate them but their effects were felt all thirty minutes of our practice and they came later with signifiers as i was driving away {you make me feel ugly. you make me feel like i'm not enough. you make me feel like i'm too much.} in the several minutes of release after the exercise ended, i sat hovering on the edge of tears for quite a while. my classmate asked if i was okay. i just sat. wordless. and when i tried to speak, the dream was the first image that came to mind.
i still can't make heads or tails . 2+2 still make a 5.
i was seeing them play, and it was the santa barbara trip, but everything about it was wrong. the venue was ugly and sparsely filled. thom was a fat, old man with a hairy chest and no shirt. he was pathetic. the music was awful. and i was put off. the dream began not too soon before i realized it was the last part of the encore and i should be paying attention, this should be important, but i just couldn't get past the distaste. later, i watched my friend who got me into the after party {in real life} walk up to security and wave his pass and go in without a backward glance. i tried to get his attention, but he was already moving away. in the dream, it wasn't that he didn't know me, but somehow that i was being disregarded. ignored.
it was a really disturbing dream that i can't seem to shake and it's been surfacing at unexpected moments. like in the aftermath of monday's pretty tough meisner session where a lot of things i didn't want to look at lingered just beyond the reach of words. i couldn't make the last leap to articulate them but their effects were felt all thirty minutes of our practice and they came later with signifiers as i was driving away {you make me feel ugly. you make me feel like i'm not enough. you make me feel like i'm too much.} in the several minutes of release after the exercise ended, i sat hovering on the edge of tears for quite a while. my classmate asked if i was okay. i just sat. wordless. and when i tried to speak, the dream was the first image that came to mind.
i still can't make heads or tails . 2+2 still make a 5.
detour on the way home
i took two detours. one took me to south seattle to deliver cookies to a miracle of a new friend who was unexpectedly gentle and tender to me when i needed it most this week. their generosity was offered with open arms, quite literally, and i'm trying to convince myself that it was unequivocally given freely {though my doubts should not be seen as a reflection of the giver but of my own twisted insecurities}.
driving home i took another detour through the city and homeward via 15th.
this series of photographs happened along the way {can you tell i love wide angles and the sky?}:
analyse
so, i bought the sheet music online yesterday for the piano part. i did this forgetting that the version i want to learn is NOT the one on the album (which was what i purchased) but the later, live version seen here. it's going to be a bitch to learn by ear, which, perhaps simply from lack of practice, hasn't proved to be one of my strong suits.
i am, however, very determined.
next goal: voice lessons. i need to undo the damage of eight years ago when i rowed for weeks with a bad bronchial cough. completely shredded my vocal chords and i still feel the roughness and a general flatness of tone that i just can't seem to sharpen away.
currently listening to: analyse (from the basement) - thom yorke
i am, however, very determined.
next goal: voice lessons. i need to undo the damage of eight years ago when i rowed for weeks with a bad bronchial cough. completely shredded my vocal chords and i still feel the roughness and a general flatness of tone that i just can't seem to sharpen away.
currently listening to: analyse (from the basement) - thom yorke
10.21.2008
sunday shinnanigans
the day started out pretty perfectly. slept in. wrote my three morning pages for the artist's way. blogged again. had toaster waffles for breakfast and savored the feeling of the day spreading out before me.
but at some point i hit a snag and suddenly the day was running away from me, abandoning me with an incomplete to do list and nagging anxiety. so i flew in the face of my worries and went on a walk to a local park to meet a friend and her friend for a gleeful bout of leaf jumping.
the walk there was amazing. i listened to sæglópur on repeat with my arms swinging out from my body in a carefree dance as my sandaled feet and half-exposed arms slowly warmed in the sunshine and cool air. it was brilliant. and the leaf jumping even more so.
this was the pile:
this was what it was like to be in the pile:
this is the view from the pile:
currently listening to: analyse (from the basement recording) - thom yorke
but at some point i hit a snag and suddenly the day was running away from me, abandoning me with an incomplete to do list and nagging anxiety. so i flew in the face of my worries and went on a walk to a local park to meet a friend and her friend for a gleeful bout of leaf jumping.
the walk there was amazing. i listened to sæglópur on repeat with my arms swinging out from my body in a carefree dance as my sandaled feet and half-exposed arms slowly warmed in the sunshine and cool air. it was brilliant. and the leaf jumping even more so.
this was the pile:
this was what it was like to be in the pile:
this is the view from the pile:
currently listening to: analyse (from the basement recording) - thom yorke
10.20.2008
meisner - day 9
i threw my neck out in class today. overzealous on the walking exercise. my body went cold and felt funny though for the most part i wasn't in pain. a very strange experience to just feel extremely not right but not be in any pain. and yet my whole body was occupied with this feeling of not right. an alien in my own skin.
later:
an exercise that held a surprise for me - the objective/imaginary circumstances exercise: a classmate and i were at a movie theater as a couple that had been together for a year an a half. we were a serious couple and for reasons i won't go into here (being insignificant), he had to get a $10 bill into my purse without me knowing. my circumstances included the fact that tonight i knew he was going to propose and i was really excited about that and wanted him to ask. the surprise for me came in the fact that i could just really be in that space comfortably, physically. this past week has found me examining my relationships with men and my trust or lack thereof. in light of all the personal excavation i have gone through, i was delighted to find myself in a physically intimate space {we were cuddling in "movie seats"} and completely at ease and comfortable. until tonight my experience has always been that it's really foreign/not-at-ease-like-it-should-be to be in that intimate space with someone i barely know and yet somehow this was different. i'm not sure if it was due to the fact that the two of us had just done work that had hit a vulnerable space earlier in the week, or if i'm opening and finding in my interactions with men a sense of safety and security. either way, it was unexpected. and somehow a gift.
currently listening to: arvo part
later:
an exercise that held a surprise for me - the objective/imaginary circumstances exercise: a classmate and i were at a movie theater as a couple that had been together for a year an a half. we were a serious couple and for reasons i won't go into here (being insignificant), he had to get a $10 bill into my purse without me knowing. my circumstances included the fact that tonight i knew he was going to propose and i was really excited about that and wanted him to ask. the surprise for me came in the fact that i could just really be in that space comfortably, physically. this past week has found me examining my relationships with men and my trust or lack thereof. in light of all the personal excavation i have gone through, i was delighted to find myself in a physically intimate space {we were cuddling in "movie seats"} and completely at ease and comfortable. until tonight my experience has always been that it's really foreign/not-at-ease-like-it-should-be to be in that intimate space with someone i barely know and yet somehow this was different. i'm not sure if it was due to the fact that the two of us had just done work that had hit a vulnerable space earlier in the week, or if i'm opening and finding in my interactions with men a sense of safety and security. either way, it was unexpected. and somehow a gift.
currently listening to: arvo part
10.19.2008
tabula rasa
perfection is not achieved when there is nothing more to add,
antoine de saint-exupery
blank slate.
i've found this fear surfacing in me as i return to class for the first time since my breakthrough/breakout. i think the restlessness has been stirring in me each time i sit across from a student to do homework this week knowing that they witnessed such a part of me. but now it's unavoidable knowing in just seven short hours i will be sitting across from the whole lot of them.
and i don't know how to be.
running greenlake with eden yesterday i had a sudden realization. not sure if it's true or false, but it hit me like truth:
i need to bring to each class the commitment to my truth and my impulses that i displayed in the walking exercise on tuesday. and that's a scary thing. and if i do it, i will grow so fast. and if i do it, i will scare the shit out of many of the students.
which brings me to the antoine de saint-exupery quote and my belief that i am all here. everything i need is here inside me and i just have so much static on the line clouding my instincts and my confidence and my emotional responses. i shouldn't feel this thing or i can't let that out. or i don't deserve to demand their complete presence or i don't deserve to get upset when they don't give it.
when it was just me walking back and forth it was easier, though still a definite journey to that place of release. but it was easier because i didn't have find words and i didn't feel like i relied on another person {even though the audience of the classmates certainly fed me a lot} and there was a freedom in the abstraction of what i did and how i did it.
and yet, it's made so many things possible. i have found myself really vulnerable in the work this week. particularly with one student who i find a lot of safety in their friendship. and this vulnerability has taken me to the acute awareness of the difference between being connected and focused in the space with another person and then being so incredibly attuned to another person you feel like you're reading their mind and they are reading yours. and it's not that you are actually reading their mind, it's just that the awareness has widened and you are taking them in so fully that you mind sees all the little shifts in posture and presence. we can see the person shifting inside their head and we can read all the signs they unconsciously place on their body. and it's so intimately connected it's beyond two people sitting across from each other.
and it's thrilling.
and when it doesn't happen, or i can see someone avoiding me, i get frustrated to the point of anger. but i haven't been able to let that out and i haven't trusted myself when i've seen it happening. but as i get better and better at seeing the distinct difference and the distinct shifts and i just need to be truthful. truthful. truthful.
let. it. out. whatever it may be at the moment.
i officially have given myself permission.
currently listening to: tabula rasa: silentium - arvo pärt {if i could pick another life to live, i would be a dancer who would choreograph a dance to tabula rasa: ludus & tabula rasa: silentium}
i've found this fear surfacing in me as i return to class for the first time since my breakthrough/breakout. i think the restlessness has been stirring in me each time i sit across from a student to do homework this week knowing that they witnessed such a part of me. but now it's unavoidable knowing in just seven short hours i will be sitting across from the whole lot of them.
and i don't know how to be.
running greenlake with eden yesterday i had a sudden realization. not sure if it's true or false, but it hit me like truth:
i need to bring to each class the commitment to my truth and my impulses that i displayed in the walking exercise on tuesday. and that's a scary thing. and if i do it, i will grow so fast. and if i do it, i will scare the shit out of many of the students.
which brings me to the antoine de saint-exupery quote and my belief that i am all here. everything i need is here inside me and i just have so much static on the line clouding my instincts and my confidence and my emotional responses. i shouldn't feel this thing or i can't let that out. or i don't deserve to demand their complete presence or i don't deserve to get upset when they don't give it.
when it was just me walking back and forth it was easier, though still a definite journey to that place of release. but it was easier because i didn't have find words and i didn't feel like i relied on another person {even though the audience of the classmates certainly fed me a lot} and there was a freedom in the abstraction of what i did and how i did it.
and yet, it's made so many things possible. i have found myself really vulnerable in the work this week. particularly with one student who i find a lot of safety in their friendship. and this vulnerability has taken me to the acute awareness of the difference between being connected and focused in the space with another person and then being so incredibly attuned to another person you feel like you're reading their mind and they are reading yours. and it's not that you are actually reading their mind, it's just that the awareness has widened and you are taking them in so fully that you mind sees all the little shifts in posture and presence. we can see the person shifting inside their head and we can read all the signs they unconsciously place on their body. and it's so intimately connected it's beyond two people sitting across from each other.
and it's thrilling.
and when it doesn't happen, or i can see someone avoiding me, i get frustrated to the point of anger. but i haven't been able to let that out and i haven't trusted myself when i've seen it happening. but as i get better and better at seeing the distinct difference and the distinct shifts and i just need to be truthful. truthful. truthful.
let. it. out. whatever it may be at the moment.
i officially have given myself permission.
currently listening to: tabula rasa: silentium - arvo pärt {if i could pick another life to live, i would be a dancer who would choreograph a dance to tabula rasa: ludus & tabula rasa: silentium}
10.18.2008
spontaneous acts of beauty
along with ten hours of class, ten hours of homework and forty hours of workwork per week, i have taken on the journey of the artist's way for the next few months. i don't see myself as a blocked artist, which is often how she refers to the reader, but merely as one who knows the well of creative force is infinite and this is just one more way to excavate a layer.
one of the things that cameron encourages is finding the little moments to practice your art. one doesn't need a whole afternoon or even a few hours to do something creative. creativity can be practiced in the small moments between things. this has been a struggle for me. particularly in light of how little time i spend at home and have for myself and how much i have to do during that time and suddenly today i saw the evidence of cameron's suggestion realized.
1. while waiting for a classmate who was running late, i opened the package with the adapter and plugged in the keyboard eden has graciously loaned me. i didn't do anything beyond plunk around freely, but for five minutes my self was alive in the keys and notes and the nostalgically played tunes from my early piano lessons as a kid. it was a really good five minutes of a pretty spectacular day.
2. what started as a quick iphone snapshot of a sudden moment of beauty became a full on photo shoot with a real camera. there is a certain level of commitment to pulling out my brother's semi-pro camera and it is the first time in years i felt i really photographed beauty for the sake of beauty. i don't know how to describe the difference, but it was significant. my photographer self is reborn {images below}.
currently listening to: für alina - arvo pärt
one of the things that cameron encourages is finding the little moments to practice your art. one doesn't need a whole afternoon or even a few hours to do something creative. creativity can be practiced in the small moments between things. this has been a struggle for me. particularly in light of how little time i spend at home and have for myself and how much i have to do during that time and suddenly today i saw the evidence of cameron's suggestion realized.
1. while waiting for a classmate who was running late, i opened the package with the adapter and plugged in the keyboard eden has graciously loaned me. i didn't do anything beyond plunk around freely, but for five minutes my self was alive in the keys and notes and the nostalgically played tunes from my early piano lessons as a kid. it was a really good five minutes of a pretty spectacular day.
2. what started as a quick iphone snapshot of a sudden moment of beauty became a full on photo shoot with a real camera. there is a certain level of commitment to pulling out my brother's semi-pro camera and it is the first time in years i felt i really photographed beauty for the sake of beauty. i don't know how to describe the difference, but it was significant. my photographer self is reborn {images below}.
currently listening to: für alina - arvo pärt
10.16.2008
conflicted {resolved}
i have no words for this one tonight. it plays into my bigger story of this week a little too vividly. and i feel like a wreck and i feel like i act younger than my age rather than older {the latter being something i have always been secretly [mistakenly?] proud of}.
and yet, who are they to threaten any part of me, most of all this part of me? and who am i to let them? damn. it.
frustration mixed with false hope. yet again. i hope you know you and all your misplaced judgments can go to hell.
30 minutes later: i had a conversation with my cousin who did a lovely job of encouraging charity and grace here. for the other, but i know i deserve a good dose myself too.
currently listening to: sæglópur - sigur rós {the opening is so magical - reminds me of the crystalline sound of music boxes}
photo credit: the village movie stills
and yet, who are they to threaten any part of me, most of all this part of me? and who am i to let them? damn. it.
frustration mixed with false hope. yet again. i hope you know you and all your misplaced judgments can go to hell.
i guess i was right not to trust you.
i was hoping you would break out of the pattern.
i was hoping you would break out of the pattern.
30 minutes later: i had a conversation with my cousin who did a lovely job of encouraging charity and grace here. for the other, but i know i deserve a good dose myself too.
currently listening to: sæglópur - sigur rós {the opening is so magical - reminds me of the crystalline sound of music boxes}
photo credit: the village movie stills
10.15.2008
meisner - day 8 {wolf in the house}
this was the first time i couldn't write about the class afterwards. i wrote an email to a friend in order to come down from the experience then went to bed. here is a communicator conversation from this morning:
katharine: how was acting?
me: uhmm....yeah. let's just say i hit a well of grief and fury.
not even anger.
it was way passed anger.
and.
she wouldn't let me go until i let it out
and it was huge.
and brilliant.
and scary.
and i wanted to demolish the class.
every.
single.
one.
of.
them.
katharine: ...!!!???......wow
me: and after i finished, jesse went, was done quickly, and then came over and sat holding me.
for as long as i needed.
katharine: oh nat
me: i know.
and it was funny because him coming over to me was 1. exactly what i needed and 2. brought up this second, smaller wave of grief. of my disbelief that i deserve to be cared for and taken care of by a man.
katharine: yes
me: the exercise is pretty simple. you walk back and forth across the room and just try to walk "normal"a lumpy unconcscious walk as you go to the bathroom in the morning
and after you've found that place, she lets you focus on one aspect, one thing that's happening in that walk and to live into that.
like maybe the extra swing in your right hip, the forward sway of your shoulder, the roll of your head, something.
and make it bigger.
and live into that motion with the whole body.
and let it surprise you.
katharine: .....
me: but for me, i was walking "normal" for quite a while and i think it's because i didn't hear her cue to start taking on the movement, so i felt like i was doing it wrong and she thought i just couldn't find anything.
but i didn't want to break out of the excercise to ask, so i just kept walking, and she had me looking at the class which brought up soooo much for me in terms of being watched, or whatever.
it was huge. and as i finally did go into the movement, i had so much rage from them watching, but i kind of let it die. i saw on the map that there be dragons and i turned around and went to safer waters.
but i think/know she saw that.
and so she kept me there.
and kept me there.
and it changed and i became tired.
and it changed again and again and suddenly the rage was there and each time i turned and headed back to the class, i seriously just wanted to hurt them.
so i put that in my movements.
every ounce of it.
because they were watching me in my ugliness.
in my mistakes.
katharine: (my breathing is quickening)
me: eden. i can't even begin to tell you how big this was.
i felt beat up all night.
my body feels so worn today.
my lower back is really sore today.
i wonder if that's where the grief and rage hides.
katharine: hmmm
me: and later, when we talked about the exercise, three people at different times called out the experience of watching me go through that. jesse said it was by far the most compelling for him to watch.
another woman (the one of the you are annoying and hysterical laughter) commented on it as well
katharine: yes
me: and each time it was named, robin turned and looked at me. and didn't just look at me, she held my gaze for seconds. each time.
it was a beautiful acknowledgement of a success, because she so rarely does that. it was like george's smile that says "go back and make sure you realize all the glory of that moment/s"
katharine: go back
go back
yes
wow. nat.
nat.
me: yeah. ede. yeah. it's so there.
i have this thing in me, both as an actor and as a person living/needing to grieve and be angry.
and how the two have such a beautiful symbiotic relationship
and they will dance together for the rest of my journey.
katharine: ......
me: and, the fact that i didn't check it after i was "done"
katharine: check it, as in, close it up
me: (yes) i wanted to crumple up into a ball, but she made me stand up, get some water, and i stood there in the aftermath and then sat and then allowed jesse to come and open another space in me. a softer one.
and accept it with tenderness to myself and him.
katharine: hm
me: i have had so much hard rejection of any attentions (male) towards me lately...
it's so hard to accept. i'm overwhelmed by self rejection every time.
every. time.
and so i'm always going in two directions at once...yes please, and fuck you, you are mocking me.
katharine: but it doesn't really matter....right now. you experience
me: yes, no, i get what you are saying, and i've been fighting the experience i have been having. here be dragons and i tuck tail and run in the opposite direction and in the meantime throw a harpoon in the general direction of the offender.
i remember the first time i felt this much rage. it was in a counseling session when i was in new york. and after i went off and really really got angry, at the end, in the silence, she said, "this is what you want to give your audience"
and i didn't believe i would be able to find that again, or be generous enough to give it really. but there it is....how many years later?
katharine: generous.........!!.......
how lovely a word to put there
me: yes.
katharine: yes
katharine: how was acting?
me: uhmm....yeah. let's just say i hit a well of grief and fury.
not even anger.
it was way passed anger.
and.
she wouldn't let me go until i let it out
and it was huge.
and brilliant.
and scary.
and i wanted to demolish the class.
every.
single.
one.
of.
them.
katharine: ...!!!???......wow
me: and after i finished, jesse went, was done quickly, and then came over and sat holding me.
for as long as i needed.
katharine: oh nat
me: i know.
and it was funny because him coming over to me was 1. exactly what i needed and 2. brought up this second, smaller wave of grief. of my disbelief that i deserve to be cared for and taken care of by a man.
katharine: yes
me: the exercise is pretty simple. you walk back and forth across the room and just try to walk "normal"a lumpy unconcscious walk as you go to the bathroom in the morning
and after you've found that place, she lets you focus on one aspect, one thing that's happening in that walk and to live into that.
like maybe the extra swing in your right hip, the forward sway of your shoulder, the roll of your head, something.
and make it bigger.
and live into that motion with the whole body.
and let it surprise you.
katharine: .....
me: but for me, i was walking "normal" for quite a while and i think it's because i didn't hear her cue to start taking on the movement, so i felt like i was doing it wrong and she thought i just couldn't find anything.
but i didn't want to break out of the excercise to ask, so i just kept walking, and she had me looking at the class which brought up soooo much for me in terms of being watched, or whatever.
it was huge. and as i finally did go into the movement, i had so much rage from them watching, but i kind of let it die. i saw on the map that there be dragons and i turned around and went to safer waters.
but i think/know she saw that.
and so she kept me there.
and kept me there.
and it changed and i became tired.
and it changed again and again and suddenly the rage was there and each time i turned and headed back to the class, i seriously just wanted to hurt them.
so i put that in my movements.
every ounce of it.
because they were watching me in my ugliness.
in my mistakes.
katharine: (my breathing is quickening)
me: eden. i can't even begin to tell you how big this was.
i felt beat up all night.
my body feels so worn today.
my lower back is really sore today.
i wonder if that's where the grief and rage hides.
katharine: hmmm
me: and later, when we talked about the exercise, three people at different times called out the experience of watching me go through that. jesse said it was by far the most compelling for him to watch.
another woman (the one of the you are annoying and hysterical laughter) commented on it as well
katharine: yes
me: and each time it was named, robin turned and looked at me. and didn't just look at me, she held my gaze for seconds. each time.
it was a beautiful acknowledgement of a success, because she so rarely does that. it was like george's smile that says "go back and make sure you realize all the glory of that moment/s"
katharine: go back
go back
yes
wow. nat.
nat.
me: yeah. ede. yeah. it's so there.
i have this thing in me, both as an actor and as a person living/needing to grieve and be angry.
and how the two have such a beautiful symbiotic relationship
and they will dance together for the rest of my journey.
katharine: ......
me: and, the fact that i didn't check it after i was "done"
katharine: check it, as in, close it up
me: (yes) i wanted to crumple up into a ball, but she made me stand up, get some water, and i stood there in the aftermath and then sat and then allowed jesse to come and open another space in me. a softer one.
and accept it with tenderness to myself and him.
katharine: hm
me: i have had so much hard rejection of any attentions (male) towards me lately...
it's so hard to accept. i'm overwhelmed by self rejection every time.
every. time.
and so i'm always going in two directions at once...yes please, and fuck you, you are mocking me.
katharine: but it doesn't really matter....right now. you experience
me: yes, no, i get what you are saying, and i've been fighting the experience i have been having. here be dragons and i tuck tail and run in the opposite direction and in the meantime throw a harpoon in the general direction of the offender.
i remember the first time i felt this much rage. it was in a counseling session when i was in new york. and after i went off and really really got angry, at the end, in the silence, she said, "this is what you want to give your audience"
and i didn't believe i would be able to find that again, or be generous enough to give it really. but there it is....how many years later?
katharine: generous.........!!.......
how lovely a word to put there
me: yes.
katharine: yes
10.14.2008
meisner - day 7.5 {wolf at the door}
i found some of my own wolves last night sitting across from three of the students from class for homework. it forced me to really sit for 30 minutes in this state of unfiltered discomfort. and they each drew out a different wolf in me. one that hides behind politeness, one that brandishes selfless caregiving, and one that wallows in a certainty that others will never find me good enogh.
damn.
and i don't care if you don't like them. spend 3 minutes and 8 seconds watching where i want to go. with my work. with my ability to be a conduit in it's purest form. he's so beautiful in his honesty it makes my soul flinch. i resist letting myself really feel it all. too much desire to be there now. already. five years ago.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wI7tB3585E
damn.
i knew i wanted to be in japan at their shows.
currently listening to: wolf at the door - radiohead
damn.
and i don't care if you don't like them. spend 3 minutes and 8 seconds watching where i want to go. with my work. with my ability to be a conduit in it's purest form. he's so beautiful in his honesty it makes my soul flinch. i resist letting myself really feel it all. too much desire to be there now. already. five years ago.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wI7tB3585E
damn.
i knew i wanted to be in japan at their shows.
currently listening to: wolf at the door - radiohead
conflicted {still}
still [stil]1.remaining in place or at rest; motionless; stationary: to stand still.
2.free from sound or noise, as a place or persons; silent: to keep still about a matter.
3.subdued or low in sound; hushed: a still, small voice.
4.free from turbulence or commotion; peaceful; tranquil; calm: the still air.
5.without waves or perceptible current; not flowing, as water.
6.not effervescent or sparkling, as wine.
7.photography. noting, pertaining to, or used for making single photographs, as opposed to a motion picture.
8.stillness or silence: the still of the night.
9.at this or that time; as previously: are you still here?
10.to become still or quiet.
11.up to this or that time; as yet: a day before departure we were still lacking an itinerary.
12.in the future as in the past: objections will still be made.
13.even; in addition; yet (used to emphasize a comparative): still more complaints; still greater riches.
14.even then; yet; nevertheless: to be rich and still crave more.
15.without sound or movement; quietly: sit still!
16.at or to a greater distance or degree.
17.archaic. steadily; constantly; always
18.and yet; but yet; nevertheless: it was futile, still they fought
19.to silence or hush (sounds, voices, etc.).
20.to calm, appease, or allay: to still a craving.
21.to quiet, subdue, or cause to subside (waves, winds, commotion, tumult, passion, pain, etc.).
yes.
all of the above?
still.currently listening to: sigur rós
photo credit: the village film still
10.13.2008
meisner - day 7
i love touch. after a year on and off in contact improv (a style of improvisational modern dance based around physical contact with your partner), i am more apt to communicate through the medium of touch, but our culture is staid and protective and requires a strict minimum distance.
but not today in class.
we took turns giving a partner an upper back/shoulder/neck/arm massage during our warm-up, but with a twist.
our eyes had to be closed.
i was in a group of three since we have an odd number of students in class and so we had a little line of one receiving, one giving and one doing both simultaneously in the middle. at the switching point, we just turned in our spots and reversed roles with the one person in the center both times. after we finished, the teacher came and led me to the other side of the room. i knew within seconds that i was standing next to morrie and felt a brush from her partner, who was easily identifiable as will. we spent several minutes standing in our enforced blindness listening to the shifting of the room as robin separated the other groups. when she was finished, she had us silently find our partners again.
the blind search began.
there was a two part thrill for me in this exercise. the first was how distinctly we communicate through touch. initially from will: this isn't morrie, who is this? and standing next to morrie while we waited in nervous anticipation: you still there? nathania? yes, i'm here. morrie? morrie {smile}! all thoughts were so clearly articulated in the simple series of pats and brushes as i slowly walked from one person to the next in a vain search for by partner. yes, i already met you once before and no, i'm still not your partner. i felt apologies from people: sorry, i'm not the person you're looking for. and there was overall such gentle care for each other in this space that even in my disappointment, i felt connected to the other person who more often than not. even after i knew they weren't ryan or monica, i still stayed an extra second to discover who it was with me in this space.
since i had only worked on one of the two partners, i found myself clearly looking for ryan. i think at some point i even came across monica, but passed her by in uncertainty. slowly the room became still as all the other pairs connected and the other big surprise for me in this exercise was how upset i got as gradually the room became more and more quite and i got more and more desperate to find my group. i worried that robin would end it before i found them or that somehow, since they had found each other they wouldn't continue looking for me. as i came across more and more pairs my anxiety levels increased but the moment my hand grasped another that reached back with equal distress and relief, i knew i had found them. it was just a hand, but i didn't need anything else to identify him. even his freshly scrubbed soapy smell only confirmed what i already knew instinctively.
robin then let us open our eyes and i had a third surprise when i saw how upset they were too. somehow since i was the alone one, i figured they would mean more to me than vice versa. actually, i think i don't need much excuse to believe that, so it was interesting to find that surface in this exercise.
as we gathered together to talk about the exercise, i couldn't sit close enough to them and ryan {only slightly} jokingly said don't ever go off like that again. and i was warmed.
i want to circle this back to bigger themes of touch. communication. emotional intimacy. etc. but it's late and i think i'll leave those for another day. again. or perhaps, i'll just leave them for you to puzzle out yourself.
currently listening to: straumnes - sigur rós
but not today in class.
we took turns giving a partner an upper back/shoulder/neck/arm massage during our warm-up, but with a twist.
our eyes had to be closed.
i was in a group of three since we have an odd number of students in class and so we had a little line of one receiving, one giving and one doing both simultaneously in the middle. at the switching point, we just turned in our spots and reversed roles with the one person in the center both times. after we finished, the teacher came and led me to the other side of the room. i knew within seconds that i was standing next to morrie and felt a brush from her partner, who was easily identifiable as will. we spent several minutes standing in our enforced blindness listening to the shifting of the room as robin separated the other groups. when she was finished, she had us silently find our partners again.
the blind search began.
there was a two part thrill for me in this exercise. the first was how distinctly we communicate through touch. initially from will: this isn't morrie, who is this? and standing next to morrie while we waited in nervous anticipation: you still there? nathania? yes, i'm here. morrie? morrie {smile}! all thoughts were so clearly articulated in the simple series of pats and brushes as i slowly walked from one person to the next in a vain search for by partner. yes, i already met you once before and no, i'm still not your partner. i felt apologies from people: sorry, i'm not the person you're looking for. and there was overall such gentle care for each other in this space that even in my disappointment, i felt connected to the other person who more often than not. even after i knew they weren't ryan or monica, i still stayed an extra second to discover who it was with me in this space.
since i had only worked on one of the two partners, i found myself clearly looking for ryan. i think at some point i even came across monica, but passed her by in uncertainty. slowly the room became still as all the other pairs connected and the other big surprise for me in this exercise was how upset i got as gradually the room became more and more quite and i got more and more desperate to find my group. i worried that robin would end it before i found them or that somehow, since they had found each other they wouldn't continue looking for me. as i came across more and more pairs my anxiety levels increased but the moment my hand grasped another that reached back with equal distress and relief, i knew i had found them. it was just a hand, but i didn't need anything else to identify him. even his freshly scrubbed soapy smell only confirmed what i already knew instinctively.
robin then let us open our eyes and i had a third surprise when i saw how upset they were too. somehow since i was the alone one, i figured they would mean more to me than vice versa. actually, i think i don't need much excuse to believe that, so it was interesting to find that surface in this exercise.
as we gathered together to talk about the exercise, i couldn't sit close enough to them and ryan {only slightly} jokingly said don't ever go off like that again. and i was warmed.
i want to circle this back to bigger themes of touch. communication. emotional intimacy. etc. but it's late and i think i'll leave those for another day. again. or perhaps, i'll just leave them for you to puzzle out yourself.
currently listening to: straumnes - sigur rós
10.12.2008
i am finished!
it's 3:30am and i've just spent the last 4? 4 1/2? hours writing about the sigur rós concert and the entry is done. it's fairly unrecognizable from what i first posted so here is the link to access it since it's a few days down. i've also added a ton of photos so even if you don't want to schlep through the writing, it was a pretty intriguing concert visually and i particularly enjoy the low-tech photos of my iphone. they always seem to more accurately portray the way a concert felt.
http://reddressredress.blogspot.com/2008/10/sigur-rs.html
at around 2:30am the word of the day popped up and i found it brilliantly appropriate given my writing topic:
euphonious \yoo-FOH-nee-uhs\, adjective:
pleasing or sweet in sound; smooth-sounding.
a few more photos then off to bed.
10.11.2008
school portrait - junior (?) year
{transcribed from my journal - minor edits}
i unearthed this picture earlier this week. i first identified the envelope as containing a set of school portraits from my high school days. then i noticed the flipped over photo in the envelope's window. the motivations for hiding the image and the self consciousness from that time came back to me instantly and i opened the envelope expecting a similar encounter with the feelings i had about myself then. i anticipated the judgments and criticisms i had to rise freely as well as the judgments i believe about myself now to be applicable to the person i was then.
what i found was something else entirely.
my thoughts were rendered silent by the photo of a fresh-faced, blue-eyed innocent. the gaze is so truthful and open. artless and clear. she's not ugly like i remember{ed} from my assessments in front of mirrors. my hair. my eyes.
i still don't know all the places i went in those first few moments of stunned recognition. it was an instantaneous and far-reaching journey that happened in many spaces and times at once and most tangibly in my lower abdomen. i came back to myself with a jolt holding a moment of clarity in my hands: i saw how harshly i judge myself currently and how it might be {probably is} as equally misplaced as the harshness of my judgments to myself then.
my mind traveled back again to another, similar revelation i had in front of some photographs. it happened many years ago (again, in high school, perhaps around the same time the above was taken). i was going through family photos and happened across a pile of photographs of my father's childhood. i had expected to find more images of my mother and her family as the innocuous looking plastic bag was a resident of a folder of mikesell images, but i was staggered to find images of my father. this is significant in that the only picture i had seen of him from before he met my mother was the one that hung on our walls and depicted him as a young kid with a teddy bear (?). it was so commonplace as to be invisible, so finding these images suddenly and unexpectedly and in such quantities ranging throughout his life was amazing. awe-full. tragic.
tears started pouring down my face seeing this man i had been so hurt by and angry towards before me as this vulnerable. tender. gentle child. this open-faced teenager. a serious toddler. and i realized too that these were parts of the same person and that all the raging and passionate emotions i felt towards the adult i would never inflict on this child.
a softness overcame me. and i stood longer in my tears. and there was an acknowledgment of loss there too. and tenderness.
it was a big moment for me. the tables turned abruptly.
and here i am, years later, reliving this paradigm shift in my own universe while looking at my own reflections.
it's days later and i still don't know what to do with all it has opened up in me.
(one note: the photo is a photo of a photo. and it's not even from a decent camera {i love you iphone, and particularly for your camera, but you do have limitations}. anyone have a spare scanner they want to give me as a b-day present? ;)
currently listening to: sigur rós on shuffle but sæglópur is currently playing. that song was amazing live. amazing. damn. that was a fine concert.
i unearthed this picture earlier this week. i first identified the envelope as containing a set of school portraits from my high school days. then i noticed the flipped over photo in the envelope's window. the motivations for hiding the image and the self consciousness from that time came back to me instantly and i opened the envelope expecting a similar encounter with the feelings i had about myself then. i anticipated the judgments and criticisms i had to rise freely as well as the judgments i believe about myself now to be applicable to the person i was then.
what i found was something else entirely.
my thoughts were rendered silent by the photo of a fresh-faced, blue-eyed innocent. the gaze is so truthful and open. artless and clear. she's not ugly like i remember{ed} from my assessments in front of mirrors. my hair. my eyes.
i still don't know all the places i went in those first few moments of stunned recognition. it was an instantaneous and far-reaching journey that happened in many spaces and times at once and most tangibly in my lower abdomen. i came back to myself with a jolt holding a moment of clarity in my hands: i saw how harshly i judge myself currently and how it might be {probably is} as equally misplaced as the harshness of my judgments to myself then.
my mind traveled back again to another, similar revelation i had in front of some photographs. it happened many years ago (again, in high school, perhaps around the same time the above was taken). i was going through family photos and happened across a pile of photographs of my father's childhood. i had expected to find more images of my mother and her family as the innocuous looking plastic bag was a resident of a folder of mikesell images, but i was staggered to find images of my father. this is significant in that the only picture i had seen of him from before he met my mother was the one that hung on our walls and depicted him as a young kid with a teddy bear (?). it was so commonplace as to be invisible, so finding these images suddenly and unexpectedly and in such quantities ranging throughout his life was amazing. awe-full. tragic.
tears started pouring down my face seeing this man i had been so hurt by and angry towards before me as this vulnerable. tender. gentle child. this open-faced teenager. a serious toddler. and i realized too that these were parts of the same person and that all the raging and passionate emotions i felt towards the adult i would never inflict on this child.
a softness overcame me. and i stood longer in my tears. and there was an acknowledgment of loss there too. and tenderness.
it was a big moment for me. the tables turned abruptly.
and here i am, years later, reliving this paradigm shift in my own universe while looking at my own reflections.
it's days later and i still don't know what to do with all it has opened up in me.
(one note: the photo is a photo of a photo. and it's not even from a decent camera {i love you iphone, and particularly for your camera, but you do have limitations}. anyone have a spare scanner they want to give me as a b-day present? ;)
currently listening to: sigur rós on shuffle but sæglópur is currently playing. that song was amazing live. amazing. damn. that was a fine concert.
10.10.2008
10:15am - 10.10.08
my little scrape of cubicle real estate
and they picked me! http://www.ten15am.com/ {10.10.08}
currently listening to: untitled 3 - sigur rós
bansky strikes again
i am thinking about converting to vegetarianism again....
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/7662627.stm
currently listening to: sigur rós on shuffle.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/7662627.stm
currently listening to: sigur rós on shuffle.
10.09.2008
today i was named.
a mentor finally put a word to what it is i seek through my fascination with memory and personal/family history.
these five syllables strung together in a line articulate the underlying current connecting so many themes in my life: my ability to recall so many details from my first memory onwards {i believe the beginning has now been identified at around 9 months?}. the way i tether a finite period of time in my life to a certain object, image or place. my compulsion to use the objects i have from my childhood in artwork {most notably appropriating family photographs}. my relationship to journaling and blogging - to possess, capture, savor a particular event, emotional or physical. the list goes on.
all these things are about holding on to things. preserving. possessing. i can see that i did these things. i lived in these spaces. and the results of living the beautiful, expansive, vividly colorful process of my life is contained in these objects {be it writing, art, photographs}. it's a way for me to take the ephemerality of my internal experience of the world and make it physical.
this serves a dual purpose:
the physical presence acts as a conductor, transmitting the energy of my experience outward. to share it. to establish connections. and to create resonance in others.
it also serves as evidence. i was here. i lived and felt things things. and. it was beautiful. it was good. it was true.
the irony of this revelation is that just last night i was going through my closets, redistributing boxes, and in the process putting away some photos of myself that i had torn from family albums earlier in the week. in the process i went more carefully through a few of the albums and found a particular place in myself for these stories. a newfound attraction and curiosity to the memories. then suddenly: a desire to have jaimini sitting next to me and hearing my earliest and most tender stories flooded to the surface. and i was able to think of him with a softness toward both him and myself in relation to him that i haven't really felt since the breakup. and most surprisingly, even in the face of such a hopeless desire to have him there with me, i maintained a softness for us both.
as i let the feeling fade, i realized that at the core i just wanted someone significant to share the stories with. eden. a newer friend. someone who could resonate with me. before me was the elegantly battered pages of countless vignettes: the magic of the many pets we had. the loneliness of our living room. the smell of the simple pine furniture. the feel of alabama winter from inside my blue coat with embroidered flowers. the sound of water falling from the hose into the pool and the lines of my father's record collection standing at ease on the shelf.
i want to share these stories, expose their hidden poignancies that a casual observer might not see. and i need to have someone else resonate in my stories with me. prove to me that they are what i feel they are.
somehow, resonance on my own is not enough.
which isn't always true though. when i truly am living a moment of vivid existence, i never feel lonely or that it even needs to be shared. the whole sigur rós event, from the drive down to the concert, was alone. i chatted a bit with my neighbor (who's name i never learned) during the break between the opener and the show, but that was it. i was on my own and when the first surge of sound completely enveloped me {song three}, there was only self and the sound. no breath. no thought. no movement {beyond a smile splitting my face}. no distinction even where i ended and the music began. just a simultaneous being that filled the entire concert hall. where is the emptiness/loneliness in that?
but at the end, i need someone to decompress with. in person. a person to mirror. and again, the idea is to somehow confirm my experience. and celebrate. maintain the rush. and when i don't have a person, writing about it is the next best thing. actually, in the case of sigur rós, i think i would have preferred to have had an hour or two writing on my own before speaking about the experience with others, but at the same time, i recognize the benefit of the conversation in the midst of the post concert wind down. but always, in the end, i have to write when things move me so that i can capture {preserve} the things i lived. the cycle continues....
the importance of nailing my {still} work in progress radiohead blog and also of finishing my sigur rós entry are now laid completely bare, particularly the former. i've said it before, but the way i navigated the three radiohead shows is the biggest story i'm carrying. still. and the fact that i can't materialize it makes me angry. desperate. longing-ful. i must get a hold of it. own it. put it in a frame and hang it on a wall. for keeps.
preservationist.
and what is the threat if i don't tell the story? who will miss out the most? you? hardly. maybe. me? excrutiatingly.
and it all loops back eventually to loss. fear of loss. fear of acknowledging loss {grief}. etc.
but that's a topic of another night's musings.
currently listening to: forgive - burial; the great escape - patrick watson; candyland - cocorosie; the storm begins - jennifer haines; grey - ani difranco.
i am a preservationist.
as soon as he said it, my whole body took the word in for a split second before saying yes. this is right. this is good.
preservationist.
these five syllables strung together in a line articulate the underlying current connecting so many themes in my life: my ability to recall so many details from my first memory onwards {i believe the beginning has now been identified at around 9 months?}. the way i tether a finite period of time in my life to a certain object, image or place. my compulsion to use the objects i have from my childhood in artwork {most notably appropriating family photographs}. my relationship to journaling and blogging - to possess, capture, savor a particular event, emotional or physical. the list goes on.
all these things are about holding on to things. preserving. possessing. i can see that i did these things. i lived in these spaces. and the results of living the beautiful, expansive, vividly colorful process of my life is contained in these objects {be it writing, art, photographs}. it's a way for me to take the ephemerality of my internal experience of the world and make it physical.
this serves a dual purpose:
the physical presence acts as a conductor, transmitting the energy of my experience outward. to share it. to establish connections. and to create resonance in others.
it also serves as evidence. i was here. i lived and felt things things. and. it was beautiful. it was good. it was true.
the irony of this revelation is that just last night i was going through my closets, redistributing boxes, and in the process putting away some photos of myself that i had torn from family albums earlier in the week. in the process i went more carefully through a few of the albums and found a particular place in myself for these stories. a newfound attraction and curiosity to the memories. then suddenly: a desire to have jaimini sitting next to me and hearing my earliest and most tender stories flooded to the surface. and i was able to think of him with a softness toward both him and myself in relation to him that i haven't really felt since the breakup. and most surprisingly, even in the face of such a hopeless desire to have him there with me, i maintained a softness for us both.
as i let the feeling fade, i realized that at the core i just wanted someone significant to share the stories with. eden. a newer friend. someone who could resonate with me. before me was the elegantly battered pages of countless vignettes: the magic of the many pets we had. the loneliness of our living room. the smell of the simple pine furniture. the feel of alabama winter from inside my blue coat with embroidered flowers. the sound of water falling from the hose into the pool and the lines of my father's record collection standing at ease on the shelf.
i want to share these stories, expose their hidden poignancies that a casual observer might not see. and i need to have someone else resonate in my stories with me. prove to me that they are what i feel they are.
somehow, resonance on my own is not enough.
which isn't always true though. when i truly am living a moment of vivid existence, i never feel lonely or that it even needs to be shared. the whole sigur rós event, from the drive down to the concert, was alone. i chatted a bit with my neighbor (who's name i never learned) during the break between the opener and the show, but that was it. i was on my own and when the first surge of sound completely enveloped me {song three}, there was only self and the sound. no breath. no thought. no movement {beyond a smile splitting my face}. no distinction even where i ended and the music began. just a simultaneous being that filled the entire concert hall. where is the emptiness/loneliness in that?
but at the end, i need someone to decompress with. in person. a person to mirror. and again, the idea is to somehow confirm my experience. and celebrate. maintain the rush. and when i don't have a person, writing about it is the next best thing. actually, in the case of sigur rós, i think i would have preferred to have had an hour or two writing on my own before speaking about the experience with others, but at the same time, i recognize the benefit of the conversation in the midst of the post concert wind down. but always, in the end, i have to write when things move me so that i can capture {preserve} the things i lived. the cycle continues....
the importance of nailing my {still} work in progress radiohead blog and also of finishing my sigur rós entry are now laid completely bare, particularly the former. i've said it before, but the way i navigated the three radiohead shows is the biggest story i'm carrying. still. and the fact that i can't materialize it makes me angry. desperate. longing-ful. i must get a hold of it. own it. put it in a frame and hang it on a wall. for keeps.
preservationist.
and what is the threat if i don't tell the story? who will miss out the most? you? hardly. maybe. me? excrutiatingly.
and it all loops back eventually to loss. fear of loss. fear of acknowledging loss {grief}. etc.
but that's a topic of another night's musings.
currently listening to: forgive - burial; the great escape - patrick watson; candyland - cocorosie; the storm begins - jennifer haines; grey - ani difranco.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)