Monthly Archives: September 2012

see you soon

I will be away for the next several days.  My nephew is getting married in Barbados. At first I wasn’t going to go.  It seemed like an impossible extravagance, which I ultimately decided was a good reason to go.  Plus, it’s family.  That’s what my brother-in-law, the very busy lawyer said when he dropped his schedule to come to my daughter’s hastily arranged wedding this summer.  “It’s family.”  So Pam and I will be there.

Also, this is balm for the part of me that hates seeing the end of summer, of swimming, of t-shirts and early morning tea on the terrace.  I am not a big fan of season change.  I know that is blasphemous to hard core Northeasterners.  I grew up in Minnesota, so I know from season change.  What I want is the politics and culture of the Northeast and the climate of St. Barth.  Oh well.  So this let’s me have a little moment of reprieve.  Bare feet, warm water.  See you next week!

 

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living a moving life

You may have noticed that I have changed the name of the blog to Paula Josa-Jones/ride dance write.  The “sub-title” is “living a moving life.”  I needed to broaden the scope of the title to include my three “big rocks.”

I am focused on the dance part at the moment. After seeing Soledad Barrio at the Joyce, I bought tickets to see Crystal Pite’s brilliant company Kidd Pivot in December.

But that is not the real story. The real story is that in this video of Crystal Pite improvising by Brian Johnson and in the poem that follows (thank you to the Writer’s Almanac) are two of the reasons that I want to live to ninety.  Movement that is common and uncommon. Both ravishing. Both essential.  It’s about living a moving life, living wide awake, riding the moment.  Start that now.

 

To Ninety

A city sparrow
touches down
on a bare branch

in the fork of a tree
through whose arms
the snow is sifting —

swipes his beak
against wood, this side
then that,

and flies away:
what sight
could be more common?

Yet I think
for such sights alone
I would live to ninety.

“To Ninety” by Robyn Sarah, from Questions About the Stars. © Brick Books, 1998. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

from cinematographer Brian Johnson:  I was commissioned by Knowledge Network in 2009 to create 19 short pieces in collaboration with the same number of artists across BC. These were then assembled into a kind of cultural survey of the province – mapping the diversity of those who live and create here. It can be seen in its entirety on the Knowledge website.

http://www.knowledge.ca/program/cartographies

Soledad the Splendid

On Saturday we went into the city with our dancer daughter to see Soledad Barrio and her company Noche Flamenco at the Joyce Theater.  I do not remember ever being so electrified by a performance or a performer.  The video barely hints at the power of this woman and her company.

I already feel myself to be Spanish (I am not) and a gypsy (I am not).  I have two Spanish horses and a Spanish dog.  I love the Spanish language.  I love Spain – the people, the animals, the warmth, the cafe con leche, the culture.  So seeing Soledad was like a divine intervention.  She is a dance shaman, a woman who changes the molecular structure of the air around her, who tangles us in an irresistible web of rhythm and shape.  I can’t wait to see her again!

I have to share Alistair MacCauley’s description in the New York Times, September 2011:

The many kinds of rhythmic footwork, all glorious, that occur during the solo — cascades, crescendos, accelerations and decelerations — are all part of one concentrated stream of consciousness. She is often still, but her stillness is always a preparation, a display of brimming intensity. Effects that have been electrifying in the past — sudden off-balance pivots on the spot where she then returns to a point of focus as if to a psychological fixation or freezes in powerfully back-bent positions — still occur brilliantly, but like passing moments amid a larger and consuming thought.
That thought continually moves on. While framing her face gorgeously with hands and arms like a wreath, she’s never saying “Look at me” but always “Where next?” Holding one arm flexed, she waits as if deciding; then she brings her raised hand softly over her face as if ruefully; and then pow! She’s off, her whole body driving her forth into the next adventure of her soul.

 

Deo, a conclusion

For now, he stays.  I think that the universe read the deeper waters of my heart.  In the Abrahamic world, when you send a mixed message, or a message of desire that is tangled up with ambivalence or fear or doubt, it cannot deliver what you want until you have a clear, one note, resonant want.  I did not have that.

I have one now.  Universe, are you listening?  I want the woman that rode him and loved him to want to half or full lease him and continue to ride him, have fun with him and let him express all his playfulness and brilliance.  And I want some of that too.  I rode him again today and it was FUN.  Grinning the whole time.

HORSE

 With him
here, now
skin to skin
warmth spilling
one into the other.

breaths
a lattice of
drawing in,
drawing out.

the heart is a
cave that holds our
boisterous blood
our twinned pulses
bound in this moment

after all, the only and
most precious.