Category Archives: moving, breathing, feeling

Dec17

the quiet eye

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Today my horse Capprichio has an abscess in his hoof.  It is very painful, and hard to watch him stand on three legs, lifting the sore hoof, limping badly as he moves from one place to another. An abscess can happen when a nail from the shoe is poorly seated.  We pulled the shoe, poulticed the hoof, and he will feel better soon.

Capprichio’s eyes, even in pain, are steady and clear.  Soft, even.  He does not look worried  He is not making something out of this.  I think it is because he is not focused on the pain.  He feels it, no doubt, but it is not his chief preoccupation and distraction.  He is enjoying his hay, the December air and the view from his stall.  That and the pear that I brought him today.  Another lesson.

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Dec16

being well

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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.

Dec14

into the wild

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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?

Dec13

Jon’s Rose

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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.