it's been a rocky resumption of meisner. a downward swing of the love/hate relationship. but i think things are starting to pick up again. thankfully.
the fourth class on 13th was missed. the first class i have yet to skip, but sick is sick. and emotionally devastated on top of that is even worse.
the fifth class had the distinction of seeing me sing alone in front of a group of people for perhaps the first time in my adult life. we were to come with a song that makes us feel alive. it could be alive/sad or alive/estatic or alive/whatever, but just a song for vivid living. and i came with a sunday smile by beirut {which you can find here}.
the dread when i realized i would have to sing alone lodged somewhere in the back of my throat, and i tried to shake it off. we lined up in a horseshoe shape and took turns standing at the front performing whatever we wanted/could of our piece. i kept on putting off going, the dread building, then had an abrupt change of heart and arbitrarily picked a student that i would follow directly after. it took the choice out of my hands. but a few turns later when she returned to the circle after her piece, all i could do to force myself out in front was to cover my ears and barrel to the front of the stage to the sound of "lalalalalalalalala" springing from my throat. i hadn't planned on that, but it just happened so i owned it.
standing in front of a group, even the one i am proud to join as a classmate and peer, was terrifying and my nerves gave me the borrowed ability to hit the higher notes very clearly. but i almost started crying. the vulnerability. the rawness of being there in my song. this specific song that carried me through the tail of winter and early spring last year. this song of joy and mourning mixed together until one is not distinguishable from the other. and i decided after the first chorus to continue on through. and i did it. and it felt good.
afterwards i wanted to do it again. what a rush. like bridge jumping in high school. the first time took 45 minutes to an hour to leap, but i would run up and do it again immediately. the adrenaline of crashing through an inner boundary is almost addictive. i think i understand why you can't stop getting tattoos.
the sixth class. we had a sensory exercise i'd be willing to play with any of my friends. different groups of students each brought in a set of items centered around a specific sense: taste {my group}, touch, smell and sound. we lay on the floor with eyes shut while each group took its turn letting us experience the sense. as we were given the sensory stimulant, we were to begin speaking gently out loud whatever image(s) came to mind, following the train of thought like a hound on a hunt.
memorable stimulus:
a scrap of what felt like the foamy/plasticy ochre colored stuffing that was inside the cushion of a decomposing truck abandoned on the field behind our house. it brought to mind the feeling of the dirt of the 33 adams street house, the time momma cat hid her kittens under the truck's seat, and our careful watch as she moved them as soon as we happened upon their hiding place.
a heavy chain that evoked a sharp memory of the gate at the entry of top garden school in alabama. i haven't thought about that gate in years. probably since the time i had to close it last. but there it was. completely intact in my head.
the seventh class this quarter {geeze, are we already 4 weeks in???} sped by last tuesday and it was marked by a really good connection with my partner. we stuck with each other. we nailed it. the space. being present in conflict. because he was a "trusted professor" who had spilled family secrets that might land my little brother in jail and he was being called in on sexual harrassment charges by the university that he assumed i had made. it was a thick scene.
which brings me to this week.
which needs it's own entry.
currently listening to: a mellow mix of radiohead songs with gagging order currently up.
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