Author Archives: Paula Josa-Jones

thank you universe

Flocculent Spiral

Today I learned that I had been awarded a Connecticut Artist’s Fellowship in Choreography.  A friend suggested that I apply and so I did. The news was wildly unexpected and appreciated.  A blessing and a strong beam of light pointing forward.

I used to depend on on raising money from foundations and corporations along with bookings to support my dance company.  Fundraising was a constant, teetery dance, a bizarre mazurka with changing partners and alliances, all danced on an uneven floor.  It was also a contest of endurance, persistence and grit.  Then the economy tilted even further, shifting away from public funds for smaller, independent artists, moving toward the safer zone of funding big companies and institutions.  I was tired of expending so much energy on the fundraising, and proportionally less time making work, along with the politics, and what could feel like the creation and maintanance of relationships for gain. I am speaking for myself here.  I am sure that is not everyone’s experience. Real friendships did bloom, tender roses in a field of weeds. I still treasure those friendships – all of them rooted in a deep passion for dance and respect for the dancemakers.

So why the galaxy image?  Initially, I thought that this picture was of the Andromeda Galaxy, but it turns out that it is something called a flocculent spiral – a stellar nursery – which “plays a pivotal role in the evolution of galaxies and it is also in the earliest stages of star formation that planetary systems first appear.” I like that because it is about beginnings and what looks like cooperation.

So I am thinking about relationship and inter-dependence and cosmic support and stuff like that.  I am thinking about John Cage, chance and quincunxes (fated events).  And I am feeling how the small events, like receiving this blessing, are part of a bigger phenomenon that holds us all together as we grow, each in our own unique and meandering way.

And I am appreciating.  Thank you universe.

 

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tilt

Falling Horses, Kieran Antill

When someone beloved has fallen into a jumble of delusion, it is almost as if their loss of balance is mine, as if, in my anguish, I am tilting with them, scrambling to decipher this strange new terrain.

Grazing Horses

Sometimes the
green pasture
of the mind
tilts abruptly.
The grazing horses
struggle crazily
for purchase
on the frictionless
nearly vertical
surface. Their
furniture-fine
legs buckle
on the incline,
unhorsed by slant
they weren’t
designed to climb
and can’t.

Kay Ryan  

Say Uncle: Poems

buenas dias

Pam took this photo this morning of Cho, our Spanish galgo (greyhound).  He is eighteen years old and ready for whatever the day may bring.  The cats, dogs and horses are not especially bothered by the emotional tumult we are currently experiencing.  Not unless, of course, it interferes with mealtimes, petting and walks.

They are content in the moment, tethered to their quiet, peaceable lives.  Lots of sleeping, lots of snuggling, lots of purring, barking, running, depending on what the situation calls for.  There is not a lot of planning, reviewing, or regret.  I like that about them.  Today I am in bed with a nasty spring cold, bracketed by cats, and from time to time, Cho.

They are reminding me about rest, about stillness and the importance of having a warm, friendly body nearby.  And for all of that simplifying and companionability, I am deeply grateful.

shine again

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let’s remake the world with words.
Not frivolously, nor
To hide from what we fear,
But with a purpose.
Let’s,
As Wordsworth said, remove
“The dust of custom” so things
Shine again, each object arrayed
In its robe of original light.
 
And then we’ll see the world
As if for the first time.
As once we gazed at the beloved
Who was gazing at us.
 
~ Gregory Orr ~