Author Archives: Paula Josa-Jones

being well


Wellness that is being allowed, or the wellness that is being denied, is all about the mindset, the mood, the attitude, the practiced thoughts. There is not one exception, in any human or beast; because, you can patch them up again and again, and they will just find another way of reverting back to the natural rhythm of their mind. Treating the body really is about treating the mind. It is all psychosomatic. Every bit of it, no exceptions.  Abraham, Philadelphia, PA, 5/13/2002

 

This week in The Journal, I am writing about dreams.  About flying and landing and taking off.  What lifts us up and what takes us down.  You can join me here.

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into the wild

Paula Josa-Jones in The Messenger, Photo: NIck Novick

There have been  some interesting responses to my post on performance, an imaginary audience.

As a performer who is also writing daily, I am interested in the nature of the digital audience, and nervous about the ways that the hungry ghost of SEO & keywords drives the conversation.

How does the hunger for numbers and the distraction it offers shape the work itself?  My own WTF moment came earlier today when I re-upped my Twitter account, and then remembered why I turned it off.  I find it overwhelming, this river of tweeting.  I tried a shy tweet, a toe in the river.  Cold, fast, a little self-conscious.

Yesterday before The Sting, Pam and I were visiting with our friends Gillian Jagger and her wife, Connie Mander.  For them it is all about The Work.  Gillian, at 81, is the fiercest artist I know.  She is fully immersed 100% of the time.  If she isn’t building it, she is visioning it.  The Work itself is the place where her most potent, fearsome interactions take place.

Into the wild means hearing my own cri de coeur.  When that is clear, the audience that I want will appear.

Does the performance exist without the audience?

Jon’s Rose

Photo:  Pam White

My friend Jon Katz lost his beautiful dog Rose yesterday.  Rose was Jon’s muse.  Rose was a muse for many of us – a treasure that he shared through his writing.  When I read his book Rose in a Storm, I felt I had found a doorway to something primal and precious.  It is a breathtaking, open-hearted book.  I loved the way Jon showed us Rose’s mind – her encyclopedic mapping of the farm and her ability to tell if anything was amiss in the map.

Rose was also mysterious.  She was a dog unto herself, if I understand her at all.  Her first business was The Work, which in this case was the running of the farm.  She and Jon share a devotion:  hers to the caretaking of her family and home, his to the deep and solitary practice of his lovely writing.

Thank you Jon.  Thank you Rose.

sting

Short post today.  Just got back from the hospital after a strange wasp sting and a whole body allergic reaction.  IV adrenalin, benadryl and steroids later, feeling tired but not itching, somewhat less swollen.

Mercury is retrograde, so this may be just some expression of inter-species miscommunication. The wasps of December?

Tomorrow I am writing more about the audience and the performer, as that seems to have sparked some responses.

Until then.