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

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

out jasper's sunroof

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

10:15am

today's submission:

clausterphobe
ballard, wa

tabula rasa

perfection is not achieved when there is nothing more to add,

but when there is nothing left to take away.

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}

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

{clean slate}

currently listening to: tabula rasa: silentium - arvo pärt

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.

i guess i was right not to trust you.
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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

this is neat-o

http://www.ten15am.com/

and i bet you can guess what i'm doing between 10:15 and 10:16 tomorrow morning....

fal·set·to

/fɔlˈsɛtoʊ/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunc[fawl-set-oh]
noun,
plural -tos,

1.	an unnaturally or artificially high-pitched voice or register, esp. in a man.

i admit it.

hi, my name is nathania tenwolde and {evidently} i am addicted to falsettos.

radiohead. thom yorke. sigur rós. bon iver. i'm sure there are more hiding deeper in the vaults of my music collection. delicacy, gentility, agility, longing, the list goes on of all the qualities these singers share. hmmmm...opposite of the defining characteristics of my father. but let me not get too freudian.

what i do find interesting is the fact that this thing that drives me to such acute levels of being-ness and truth is a scion of the world false.


currently listening to: sigur rós.

sigur rós

a land & soundscape laid itself out in the two hours they took the stage. wide. expansive. spacious. otherworldly. fey. playful. full of despair. humble. delicate and yet so raw and primally alive.

alpha/omega. how wonderfully they walked the line of opposites. everything toeing the edge. heartbreaking harmonies moving nimbly into shattering cacophony. hopelessness and tragedy traversing suddenly into the realm of boundless joy and wonder-full hope.

the song festival is an example of their ability to inhabit the entire spectrum of human emotions. it's a nine and a half minute song that spends the first half a mournful threnody and the second half living the same musical theme in an ecstasy of celebration. i purchased the album a day after my grandfather passed away and spent a good deal of time listening to the first half of the song on repeat. when i was done with the heaviness of grief, the second half of the song was waiting to carry me forward. when they performed it live, there was a beautiful pause in the song that the audience interpreted as their being finished, but i smiled as they rolled over the applause and continued the song. my body knew there was more.

but i'm getting ahead of myself.

it was madness getting down to portland. a two and a half hour drive (at most) was over four hours and all the delays happened at the beginning with no assurances that there wouldn't be further delays. i arrived as the last song of the opening band was played and my shoulders were still rock hard and located somewhere in the region of my ears. not comfortable. but i was in the fourth row just to the right of the center. a lucky last minute ticket that was only slightly above face value. the extended conversation with my neighbor about sigur rós and radiohead {he was also at the auburn show which was 2/3} put me at ease again. i had arrived. i was ready.

the lights lowered. smoke filled the stage and the opening notes of svefn-g-englar welcomed me with the thrill of goosebumps and a rush of barely contained excitement. i texted a friend "here we go" and buckled in for the ride.

the band was wearing a whimsical array of outfits that, for the most part, would have looked at home on the set of stardust. tails. a bowler hat adorned with a feather. jónsi was wearing a mid-thigh coat with buttons i wanted to see up close and a pair of feathers on his head that suggested elf ears whenever he bent over in a gesture of release or genuflection {which he did frequently}. there were sparkles on faces. a silly crown. and a pair of shiny red track pants on the drummer who was brilliant and the only modernly attired member.

they cast a spell that took me in and held me from the first moment and jónsi hadn't opened his mouth.

then he began singing and that was the point of no return.

this man......yeah.

there was something incredibly compelling about his motionless poise in contrast with the soaring acrobatics of his voice as it danced above his body and into my own. perhaps it was the contrast to thom yorke who's genius as a conduit rests as much in his gestures as his vocal chords, but even when jónsi was playing the guitar with his bow, the movements of his arms and body were completely tethered to the purpose of making music with the instrument and were expressive of that act alone. somehow, without being disconnected, the movements didn't distract or take away from the this stillness and collectedness of self. and it emanated from his chest and face and vibrated in the air around him and his economy of movement provided this dias for everything and anything to soar out from his mouth.

a little way into the first song he put the mic to his forehead to amplify the resonance of his head voice which created this sense of space and distance. and toward the end of the song he took it one step further and sang through his guitar. it brought to the sold out concert hall the emptiness of open water and wide spaces of lonely continents. and the last note of svefn-g-englar lasted for eternity. there wasn't enough air in the room to support the duration of that note, and still it continued. the swan song of this amazing first number.

and i realized: as much as i have listened to the music of sigur rós for years, i was not prepared for the experience of jónsi's voice live. i was instantly moved to a place beyond words and often beyond thought. and this was just the first song.

jónsi singing through his guitar

the one song where his movements were my main focus was towards the very end {and it was also the one time in all the summer's concerts where i wanted a zoom lens}. it was the song all alright from their newest album. i think he was most still during this piece and yet his hands, moving between his solar plexus and heart, held so much specific yet unconsciously articulated energy. the fingers were overly straight and the movements slow yet conveying these surges of emotive overload that i still don't have adequate words to create a definition or explanation. i was completely drawn in and curious. a babble of meaningless sign language that is as expressive as his songs in hopelandic. no signifier attached to a signified, yet so much was conveyed. primitive. primal. and universal.

all alright. complete stillness.

the set design was amazing. it was calm and minimalistic after the restless lights of the in rainbows tour {which was a joy of a different flavor}. the minimalism was a light wash of color and tone to the broad canvas of space around them and it altered magnificently with each song. there were blurry videos of people. open landscapes and playful colors yet they all left room and freedom to bring oneself to each song. i quickly discovered i still could not bring enough of myself. i {again} prevented myself from going through the whole show with my self fully open though less painfully than the radiohead tour. but i was able to be very present at first. a grounding rod for lighting begging to be struck.




and lightning hit fairly quickly. the third song was ny batteri and in the first massive crescendo of the concert, the sound completely filled the entire hall. it wasn't a blasting noise of shattering eardrums, but a rush of music that was simultaneously buoyant and submerging. and, in that instant, there was only self and the sound. no breath. no thought. no movement. no distinction even where i ended and the music began. just a sense of a conjoined being that filled the entire concert hall.

i was blissfully submersed in their full glory with a smile helplessly bobbing on my face. it was the most perfect moment of the concert.

and for some reason this expansive sense of self was threatening because that was the point i reined myself in emotionally. not that i didn't let myself feel the rest of the concert, because i did and it was glorious, i just never reached the transcendent and unhindered planes that the first three songs, and particularly this one moment, inhabited. this emotional disassociation is akin to the experience of radiohead {which i still need to finishing writing about} and i'm just now beginning to realize how much it is tied to the desires i have to create these heightened states of being in my own art as well as the desire to create a space for others to experience and navigate. somehow if i don't really let myself feel other people doing what i want to do, even if it's a different medium, i won't be restless or envious.

but i digress.


the one song where his movements were my main focus was towards the very end {and it was also the one time in all the summer's concerts where i wanted a zoom lens}. it was the song all alright from their newest album. i think he was most still during this piece and yet his hands, moving between his solar plexus and heart, held so much specific yet unconsciously articulated energy. the fingers were overly straight and the movements slow yet conveying these surges of emotive overload that i still don't have adequate words to create a definition or explanation. i was completely drawn in and curious. a babble of meaningless sign language that is as expressive as his songs in hopelandic. no signifier attached to a signified, yet so much was conveyed. primitive. primal. and universal.

all alright. complete stillness.

another moment that was pretty fantastic was during the first of two waves of confetti dropped from the ceiling. a laugh burst out of me so unexpectedly, and then continued as a giggle as it rained paper and color. i was giddy. i was delighted. i was five. it was brilliant.

shortly thereafter they invited the opening band on stage and us as an audience to stand and clap for gobbledigook. and we did as an abundance of light and color and confetti and joy poured into the space. it was amazing. the whole crowd was alive and clapped in a frenzy throughout the entire song. no gradual withdrawl of participation that normally happens. we were there. with them in excess, for every beat of the song.

gobbledigook.

my delight in the confetti.
{the orange and red on my shirt is confetti}

i had texted a friend "confetti!" when it first fell, not realizing the earlier message from him saying "grab some confetti" was intended to be literal. his response was "hold on for popplagid" and it was not enough of a warning because the song was bigger than anything imaginable. it was the second song of the encore and followed all alright {one of their quietest songs}. the song runs over ten minutes long and it starts slow, luring you in, and gradually builds. and builds. and builds. and builds further than believable in this minimalistic concert. and not just in sound, but color and light and movement and at it's crescendo, i couldn't even keep my eyes open. the strobes sang to me through my eyelids and flickered their counter rhythm and the sound was massive and i absorbed it through every pore of my body.

..................................................................

their generosity was overwhelming.

and left me filled past the brim.

the winding up of popplagid.

their final genuflection.

humble.
oh so humble.

whenever i think back to the experience of jónsi's voice, i just have this incredible sense of grace and agility and softness and poignancy and magic. i saw the man and i saw his mouth move and i heard the heartbeat of his voice in each audible breath he took, yet my mind still can't wrap around the fact that a human being was able to create those ethereal sounds. it just shouldn't be possible. and somehow it is. and somehow i was given the chance to witness the miracle of his performance. and i am grateful to the muse/music gods for yet another dose of their generosity.


-set list-

svefn-g-englar
glosoli
ny batteri
fljotavik
vid spilum endalaust
hoppipolla
med blodnasir
inni mer syngur
svo hjott
heysatan
saeglopur
festival
gobbledigook
---
all alright
popplagid


{i had a funny moment during hoppipolla where i realized that even if palin becomes president by some nightmarish twist of fate, if there is this much beauty and hope in the world, humanity will be okay.}


currently listening to: live performances of sigur rós on youtube.

meisner - day 6

i am an accommodater. i will bend over backwards, sacrifice anything, do whatever it takes to be liked. to succeed. to be perceived as nice. and it doesn't serve me. and later i wished i had owned up to my frustration when he wouldn't connect. deeply. i can be in conflict. i can be in conflict. i can be conflicted. just own it.

be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart.
try to love the questions themselves.

do not now seek the answers
which cannot be given
because you would not be able
to live them
and the point is,
to live everything

live the questions now
perhaps you will then
gradually
without noticing it
live along some distant day
into the answers.

~rilke

oh how this applies to so many things. substitute questions for: {conflicts} {.......!.......} {dreams} {hopes}



currently listening to: sigur ros on shuffle

meisner - day 5

today was in a class of its own.

sitting across from me, she observed you are full of hope. and i repeated it. a few times. until i realized how much the opposite is true and the bittersweet feeling of hope and hopelessness shouted their mingled {mangled} presence inside of me.

and then she said you are crying.

hope has been such a loaded theme in my life. particularly this past year. it's one of the beautiful traits of nathania. yet it walks the line between being a positive/resonant force in my life and conversely a denial of reality. a tool to ignore grief. a reason to keep from changing or taking action.

as soon as she sat down, the next woman asked what would lift your spirits right now? the irony that she couldn't possibly foresee is that the first thing that would come to my mind is something i am increasingly feeling hopeless about. it's not a huge tragedy, nor would getting it be a huge victory {i say this realizing i may be underestimating myself here}, but receiving it would lift my spirits.

the next time i sat down tonight, i had a completely opposite experience. rather than sitting across from a deeply connected friend, i sat across someone new. someone with whom i had to reach for a connection. perhaps too far. she said a little ways in you're annoying. wham! that hit me hard. i repeated it searching for sympathy. emphasizing my earnestness. i think i found it.

at the mid-way point, we ran into a giggle. innocuous at first it escalated. and escalated. and escalated to some of the biggest laughs i have ever given or received. i said you have a glorious laugh. and we repeated it when we were able to even inhale.

{no, breathing was not a given during this laughter}.

later i said you shriek when you laugh. and we shrieked. we stomped. we bellowed. she said you're crying. and i was again, but for the completely opposite reason.
it was marvelous.
it was madness.

and the laughter was so alive, it had a mind of its own and it took us places we couldn't foresee. we spent forever there. minutes. hours. lifetimes. there was no exit.

and still we kept going.

until she leaned over and i said you're crying. and these were tears of grief. a heaviness. a mystery. it was full circle.

we eased to a close and i thanked her. it was such a gift of self. somehow. this cycle through a near conflict to something so real and powerful it spilled out of our bodies and splashed to the floor. we were drenched and enjoying the experience of clothes sticking to our bodies. they weren't going to come off easily, but the struggle was amazing.



i got home, and needed a shower to ease the headache that had replaced the emotional high. god, i love class.



currently listening to: second brain - kaki king.

conflicted {?}

i don't think i am conflicted any more.




i know there is room for error, but i do know i am impatient. waiting?

12v.520.autumnal.winds.

i spent $15 on a power adapter today for the keyboard i'm borrowing from eden. sheer bliss. and possibility and probability and potential energy. i want to relearn moonlight sonata. i want to learn radiohead songs. i want the music to come from me. i want to be open and flowing. i want to be simultaneously calm and tumultuous like the water on lake washington today.

north side of the bridge: quiet, glassy surface.
south side of the bridge: looks like a tropical storm is brewing. white caps. rolling waves.

makes me think of the painting i need to finish. a simultaneous dream jai and i had. well, each a different one about the other, but at the exact same time. this painting merges the two. and i haven't finished it yet. but in many ways the scene it portrayed was one i saw today with the two sides of the bridge having the complete opposite surface conditions. it was even the correct sides of the bridge.



makes me want to finish the piece as well as the song that was a companion to the painting. sneaker waves. maybe that will be my artist date this week. that or organizing my art room. reorganizing. adding in an arm chair (which i haven't found just yet) so i can host people.

driving back was lonely. should've taken jesse home. had questions i wanted to ask and space i needed help filling.

currently listening to: cymbal rush - thom yorke.

green with envy doesn't even begin to cover it

posted on radiohead's site on the 1st of this month.



video for reckoner

hello
my mind is not functioning at the correct speed at the moment thanks to being in tokyo
but however and here
is one of my favourite video things that has ever happened
for reckoner it is, the result of somebody entering a competition to make an animation to one of the tunes on IN RAINbows.
on aniboom. you can scroll down dead air space and find all about it.. but anyway

so we asked them whether it was ok to make it the official one we use as it goes with the song so well. they said yes.

and if you're like me and find it hard to find videos on televsion any more, or even turn on the television you can watch right here.

ok now im going to fold some clothes.

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=43774435

thom

eva.

we practiced our meisner exercises today.
3o minutes.
but a whole lot more lived in that time.
she knew what to say without me ever giving voice to the question.
you have a perfectly proportionate nose.
an ocean poured out of my eyes {which she had earlier called beautiful - i choked for a bit repeating that one. and we repeated it for a long time}.
she leaned in, held my hands and repeated it until i could own it.

during the three points exercise, two questions she asked that filled my whole body:
if you could interview any artist, at any point in history and get answers to all of your questions, who would it be?
she saw that i was certain of who i would choose. how right she was.
and
who of all people in your life would you want to see again?
the words she put to my response was go back. change or fix something.
she read me well.

currently listening to: ahuvanti - kaki king