I await and I awaken. I await and feel the morning rush into my bones. I try to stay here in this day rather than rushing forward to the summer. But it calls me so strongly. Rehearsals, performance, trainings, a summer filled with this amazing transition to becoming artist.

Artist, the word is so powerful. Only a few people were allowed to claim it. I remember hearing a child say “anyone can do art, mama” with such conviction. It is truth, truth lost in the process of domestication of the human animal. Reclaiming art is reclaiming innocence and the pre-shame mind. Becoming, always becoming, artist is the process of letting go of shame.

Amanda was an artist because she could draw. Somehow, figurative drawings that looked like what they were supposed to be were the definition of art that I took on when I was domesticated and aculturated. I had a few friends who were gifted that way. I wasn’t and no one bothered to teach me. In my art classes I made three dimensional abstract tin sculptures. I discounted them and tossed them out at some later point in time. Now my heart aches for my early abstract art. Perhaps some day I learn to use a torch again but for this moment I will stick with awakening the body artist.