Monthly Archives: December 2011

Dec27

art – life

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I was drawn to this image because its intimacy, the quiet focus of the artist who is also the art.  One of the themes that I will be exploring in January is the way that art and life intersect.  It will also be a big part of the focus of Breaking into Blossom, the online course on moving into an improvisational life that begins on January 23.

Many years ago, I took a workshop with the brilliant Eiko & Koma.  I remember Eiko saying that she and Koma do not commute between their art and life.  For them it is a seamless whole.

I am a householder.  I have animals, a lot of them.  They are a beautiful, essential part of every day. But their presence means that there are a million little moments in every day that are not art.  Scooping poops, feeding dogs, cats, cleaning up vomit and pee.  Brushing, walking, touching.  As I said, not art.  Or what can feel like a lot of little, niggly commutes.

Having said that, there is a way to be with those necessities that is a rhythm, a practice, a yoga even. And there is a direct path from all of that ritual to my work, my writing, and definitely my choreography, which is full of beasts – hooved, pawed, winged.

Are you commuting?

postscript:  This week, The Journal (the little ragged memoir) is about the ways that I have taken art art into and onto my body.  The how and the why of that, including the elaborate mapping of tattoos.

 

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Dec24

merry christmas

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Appreciate something.

Light a candle.

Find stillness.

Take a walk.

Take a nap. 

Breathe.


And with appreciation and thanks to Jon Katz, I had to share his Bedlam Farm video of Nicolene, the magical barn fairy.

Dec24

joy

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You cannot judge the value of a life by its quantity. It is by the joy that you are feeling. The more joyful you are, the longer you live. Let yourself relax and breathe and be free and be joyous, and romp. The optimum physical life experience is to have plenty of things that stimulate you to desire, and an awareness of the way you feel, so you’re reaching for thoughts that feel good—so you’re wide open, so you’re tuned in, tapped in, and turned on.

Abraham – Excerpted from the workshop in Chicago, IL on Saturday, September 7th, 2002

 

This is a photo of my daughter Bimala with the mules Gizmo and Gomez.  May your holiday have moments of this kind of happiness and connection. Appreciation for the small moments and for what is precious to you.

 

 

 

 

 

Dec23

softness inside, softness outside

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Today was a strangely, deliciously balmy December day in the Hudson Valley.  I went to see Nelson (the formerly wild Mustang) with some holiday carrots. He was very cuddly from the beginning, seeming to echo the softness and quiet of the day. Have I mentioned that I love this horse?

I have been asking him to move around me in a small circle, while staying calm and responding to the “go” signal from my hand and the “whoa” signal from my movement and my voice.  Today he was flawless when circling to the right, still uncertain to the left.

So I played with that by asking him to stay with the hard side, to keep trying.  And here’s the lovely part:  he allowed me to improvise more freely with changes of direction and with different kinds of cues than ever before.  My hand, my body, the lead rope, the wand, nothing seemed to really phase him.  It was as if there had been a quantum shift in his tolerance for new information – his ability to take it in without being frightened.

Even after I opened the gate of his catch pen out into the six-acre field, he stayed with me – no halter, no lead rope – moving smoothly around me to the right, and doing his best in the other direction. No running off, no spooking.  He wanted to continue the dance.

Everything about my work with Nelson during the past eight months has been an improvisation.  But the movement vocabulary was very small, very careful.  Now, our language is suddenly expanding:  new options, different choices, greater flexibility. A reservoir of trust. This new softness is deepening, penetrating, lasting from week-to-week.

This expanding relationship reminds me of the comparison of meditating to dipping a cloth into dye. For the first 100 times, the color will rinse away, but slowly, surely, the color starts to take and deepen.