Category Archives: moving, breathing, feeling

beautiful

Ngonda Badila is Lady Moon.  Her song, Speak to the Light, is one of the most lovely pieces of music that I have ever heard.  She sings it during the performance of Xmalia, the show created by C. Ryder Cooley.

The first time I heard it, I did not think that the sound was coming out of a human body, it was so etheric, so wildly beautiful.  When I watched her performance last weekend with Ryder on trapeze, it moved me to tears.

You can listen to it online, but better still, you can see and hear Lady Moon in person at the upcoming MCLA performance of Xmalia on January 25 at 7:30 in North Adams, MA.

 postscript:  This week The Journal is about callings.  How we feel them, and a few ragged ones of my own.  Breaking into Blossom starts next week.  This is an online class about moving into an improvisational life, about lessening the commute between what you think of as creative and everything else.  I hope you will join us.  You can register here.

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the looking glass

Photo:  theredmenmovie.com

Yesterday I wrote about how the horse mirrors us and asked, “What mirrors you?”  Here is another take:

This is always true: What I think and how I feel, and what manifests, is always a vibrational match. But here’s the big kicker: What manifests isn’t manifesting instantaneously. So, you’ve got all this buffer of time leeway that makes you sloppy… If you thought a negative thought and a brick would instantly fall on your head every time, you’d clean up your thinking. But you’re not here to be punished about your thinking. You’re here to use your thinking—and your focus—to create.  Abraham, Excerpted from the workshop in Washington, DC on Saturday, May 7th, 2005

Today when I woke up I could feel myself looking for trouble.  I felt it through breakfast, and pretty much through most of the morning.  This is not my usual state (any more), so I was well aware of feeling edgy, cranky and like if there was poo on the road, I was going to step in it.  Which is, metaphorically, pretty much what happened.  A nice blow up with my daughter, and a raging neck ache.  Trouble delivered.

What I am practicing now is using my focus to create how I want to feel.  This is my recipe:  hug my daughter (done); take some motrin (done); pet a cat (happening now); take a bath; eat the beautiful dinner that raw chef Stacey Stowers is preparing for us tonight; watch Downton Abbey online.

Begin again.

what they teach

“The greatest language is that without words. Communicating with a single touch that which delivers the energy of a message is always understood, a vibration of the vocal chords to gestures of the body. The forgotten wisdom in this primitive relationship we share with animals is so important. We tend to take advantage of our ability to communicate verbally with each other and often ramble on aimlessly without purpose and thought in our words. “It’s okay to be quiet” I often hear myself say while others addictively babble on. I seek refuge in the company of my teacher, the spirit of the horse who quiets my mind down, for I have learned to communicate calmly with love and attentiveness.”   Ariana Waite

 

These words were written by a young woman who volunteers at Blue Star Equiculture, a loving sanctuary for retired or rescued carriage horses in Palmer, MA.

Today when I was with Nelson, I opened the gate to his catch pen so that we could continue our movement conversation in the big six-acre field where he lives.  He started to leave, and then I raised one hand, really just a shadow of a gesture, and he curved his path around and came back to me.

Then he did something surprising.  Without my asking, he walked into the big round pen that is in his field.  He stood there quietly while I untied and then closed the gate.  Understand that Nelson does not like any kind of confinement. I then began to signal him to move around me and then come back to me – a continuation of last week’s dance.  Today, my hand signal was subtle: a kind of light, curving whisper of a movement, which, brilliant decoder of movement that he is, he read perfectly.

We did a sequence of moving away, changing direction, coming back to me, moving away a number of times, each time, I could feel the dance between his body and my hands and body become more like a quiet, elegant, listening tai chi.

I remembered Anat Baniel’s words:  “More force is the definition of less differentiation.”  And Linda Tellington-Jones urging us to feel more by making our touch lighter, slower, more subtle.

And here is Nelson, telling me, “Yes, that is right.  Less is more. I understand you perfectly.  When I don’t, I will show you.”  And indeed that is true.  When I am unclear, he mirrors that.  When I am nervous, he mirrors that.  When I breathe, slow down and feel, so does he.

Who mirrors you so perfectly?

more light

This photograph is one of a series that I took on one of my morning pajama outings to catch the light.  I love the negative space, and the filigree of carts and trees.

This year is the first that I have been taking pictures, and it has thrown me into a relishing and savoring mood about light.  In the past, winters were dark, period.  Camera in hand, I am a light hunter, a sun seeker, and discoverer of color everywhere.