Category Archives: improvisation life

Apr9

on not waiting

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I did not write a post yesterday.  I did not have an inspiration for a post.  I tried waiting, fingers on the keyboard, mind searching, digging, not finding.  I decided not to wait.

I feel like when I am waiting, I am focused too hard on wanting, and when I am focused on wanting, I am also focused on what I do not have. An idea or enough of anything – money, chocolate, fun.

When I start thinking about lack, then it is time for a change.

One of the strategies in my eBook, Breaking into Blossom, is change, inspired by Pauline Oliveros’s Poem of Change.  The point is to change anything, your position, your location, your mind, your body.  Dramatically, imperceptibly.

A few weeks ago, I listened to an Abraham workshop with Esther Hicks, and she said, “Make the fun that you are having unrelated to anything else.”  What that meant was to not make the fun you are having dependent on how much money you have, how great your blog post is, how your health is, how your kids are doing or anything else.

For the past three years, we have been trying, but not really trying, to sell our house.  We love our house, and don’t particularly want to move.  But we also feel it is time to have less to take care of, or rather, to be taking more care of what has become most important to us – our creative endeavors and each other.

So I need to stop waiting there too.  Stop waiting for a buyer, for a resolution to that uncertainty.  Because here is the thing:  if I am waiting, I am not really here, not breathing this breath, not dancing the dance of this moment, savoring what is here.

Not waiting is one of those changes that requires vigilance, noticing – so that I can tell if I have slid back into some subtle, cramped form of waiting.

What are you waiting for?

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Apr7

rebirth

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Photo by Pam White

from Please Call Me by My True Names

by Thich Nhat Hanh

Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow —
even today I am still arriving.

Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.

Apr5

pushing through

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I read three blogs pretty religiously:  Jon Katz, Maria Wulf, and Seth Godin.

Currently, I am reading Seth’s brilliant new eBook on education, Stop Stealing Dreams.  I am reading it in a non-linear, popcorn way – dropping into whatever jumps out at me from the index.  It is free.  Seth wants us to share it.  I am sharing it.

Since I am doing more teaching, his book is perfectly timed.   It is also perfectly aligned with my ideas about teaching, how we learn and improvisation as a crucial building block in education.  I was very excited to see “improv” in his list of courses he would like to see in schools.

Seth is brilliant.  Reading his posts is like riding, except that I am the horse.  Each post is like what we call in dressage “an aid:”  a touch of the leg here, a shift of the seat there, a half-halt that helps me to connect, direct and refresh my energy.   Each day I receive a subtle, insistent correction of direction, balance and perspective. Seth is what I call and uber-thinker, a true radical.  He lives pretty much outside of any box I can think of.  And he is inspirational.  The other day he wrote:

If your happiness is based on always getting a little more than you’ve got… then you’ve handed control over your happiness to the gatekeepers, built a system that doesn’t scale and prevented yourself from the brave work that leads to a quantum leap.

The industrial system (and the marketing regime) adore the mindset of ‘a little bit more, please’, because it furthers their power. A slightly higher paycheck, a slightly more famous college, an incrementally better car–it’s easy to be seduced by this safe, stepwise progress, and if marketers and bosses can make you feel dissatisfied at every step along the way, even better for them.

Their rules, their increments, and you are always on a treadmill, unhappy today, imagining that the answer lies just over the next hill…

All the data shows us that the people on that hill are just as frustrated as the people on your hill. It demonstrates that the people at that college are just as envious as the people at this college. The never ending cycle (no surprise) never ends.

An alternative is to be happy wherever you are, with whatever you’ve got, but always hungry for the thrill of creating art, of being missed if you’re gone and most of all, doing important work.

For several days I drove by these forsythia that had pushed themselves through the fence.  I liked the feeling of their boldness, their refusal to stay inside the lines, and the wild pattern of color and shadow they created.  That, I hope, is what I have taught my daughters.  And that is what I am learning (and teaching) now.

Apr2

the deep end

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Dominique and Malou in Cafe Muller by Pina Bausch

On Sunday when I was teaching in Boston, I challenged the dancers in the workshop to open the doors to their movement obsessions.  It is an idea that the great Bessie Schonberg opened to me.  I was already doing it, but she identified and crystallized it for me.

It takes a certain amount of courage to go there.  Many dancers would rather play in the safer end of the pool and not get emotionally overheated.

Obsession is what I especially love about the work of Pina Bausch, and more recently, Crystal Pite.  I admire the ferocity of their dancers, the sense that everyone is all in, all of the time, even in moments of exquisite stillness.

To my deep pleasure, the dancers in my workshop took up my challenge and dove deep.

Beyond the dance studio, I think opening to one’s obsessions – listening to them and allowing them to take form  – is what is required to live a full life.  Not following, not embodying those passions is like a series of little deaths, one moment, one dream, one day at a time.

One of my obsessions is the writing that I do weekly in Little Fictions & Ragged Memoirs.  This is writing that dives deeper than I do in the blog.  It is a subscription, which is one of the ways I support myself.  The current offering is a surreal story in four parts.  The next is going to become a part of my new dance solo.  If you subscribe mid-story, you will receive the story from  its start.  I hope you will join me!