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