Life is very simple

This not a poem, but a recitation of my life:

There is no breeze this morning
The leaves outside my window are still
A squirrel, a jay, and a crow are having an argument across the street
The dogs collar jangles as she bounces up the stairs
Children ask unanswerable questions before I am fully awake
And proudly announce bodily functions I’d rather be ignorant of
The computer hums and I imagine dancing to the drone of it
Heading out early to the studio to move in solitude before the day begins

A poem, a dance, a dream, breakfast, solitude, quiet, enough

Jay will finish detailing the new bemuda grass green wall this afternoon
Boys have their chores, music practice, math lessons to do first
Then they will arrange play dates, children and families will drop by
I will take the dog for a walk, begin to pack for the coming weeks travels,
cook meals, wash dishes, do laundry, pick up messes and
wipe up spills, maybe even mop the kitchen floor
This is the daily dance of my life, nothing special but deeply satisfying

Life is very simple when I leave it alone

[p.s. I'll be in Seattle next week for the Seattle Festival of Alternative Dance and Improvisation. I'll try to post but can't be sure of easy internet access. Love ya'll, Lisa]

over the shell 

flying together 

listen friend 

go art 

reach out 

hands up 

How to change your life

Change one small thing about yourself
Cross your legs the other way
Soften muscles that are perpetually tight
Find a more comfortable way to sit and read this

Change another small thing about yourself
Carry your purse or bag on the non-habitual side
Begin to write with your non-dominant hand
Sleep on the other side of the bed

Change some bigger thing about yourself
Choose your own beliefs
Believe in yourself
You are the only one with that power

Practice changing
First practice taking baby steps
Then practice leaping from cliffs

Recreate yourself
Recreate yourself in the image of your God
Recreate yourself as you dream yourself to be

Remember

I approach silently
Choose to smile or keep a neutral face
Reach first one arm; no, reach the other

Remember to use left and right equally

I approach silently, touching foot to floor with precision
Choose the next action with full presence to the moment
Dip toes into the water first or is it quieter to dive in head first?

Remember to release all resistance to surface tension

I approach allowing soft footfall, simple sounds of movement and rush
I choose what I believe, every detail of life is a choice, so
Heart will enter first, break the surface tension so that voice can follow

Remember to soften into the cold water’s touch

The brain cannot tell the difference between memory and experience
His breath upon my cheek, "I think to myself what a wonderful world”
The performer singing through his tears, I see your faces, your hands

Remember gravity and then promptly forget about it

ferrets at play

Here are some photos of our DaVinci Days performance. Elizabeth Connard in light green shirt, Elizabeth Kerle in purple shirt, Tina Taylor in blue shirt, and myself in dark green shirt. Someone told Elizabeth K that we reminded her of ferrets playing.

I rolled over Elizabeth 

Ferrets at play they said 

Tina and Lisa eye to eye 

hands and feet 

Counterbalances and smiles 

Two Elizabeths looking at each other. 

The other Elizabeth pull herself up 

Elizabeth reaches with her toes 

sideways 

girls in colors 

3 levels 

drippings

The fledgling birds who live outside our bedroom window have learned to feed themselves. The lovely morning chorus of hungry cries has disappeared and yesterday I slept in surprisingly late without their morning calls. Last night it rained and it feels like a hush has descended upon my neighborhood.

But the hush has not descended upon my brain. My month long dance intensive/teacher training is coming to an end and we have a 3 hour performance this afternoon. I awoke early with the thread of the performance running through my head. I wanted to return to sleep but the score wouldn’t let me.

My brain is full but the words don’t want to come through my finger tips. I just need to sit with this for a while. Let the stew finish cooking and then return. The work has been hard. I feel myself rubbing against a grate and then pulling back. I feel like I need to refill my creative juice. A week of silence would be wonderful, but perhaps I will get a day of it.

dis/ability

Yesterday Martina, who has CP, sat in her wheelchair and looked at me seriously and asked “Lisa, how could you be defective?” I just stammered. It was so hard to answer. I lived with that belief about myself for a long time. It was a belief that had been instilled from my history and my upbringing. It was a psychological disability that held me in its grip. I had mountains of evidence to the contrary, but I held that nugget of truth close to my heart lived my life trying to disprove it or hide it. I stammered. I did not have an adequate answer for Martina and could only reply: “It was a result of the abuse in my childhood. I raised in a situation where it was not safe to be in my body. Everything could be used against me. My body was fair game for torment. I was too fat, too tall, too clumsy, too blind, my feet were too big, my breasts were too small. There was no way to be enough.”

Earlier in the day Alito told me this story: He and Emery had traveled to a foreign city for a performance. A journalist came to interview them both. The journalist asked Alito first “if you could change something about your body, what would it be?” Alito, a dancer and gymnist of great talent, went on and on for 15 or 20 minutes with all the details of how he would change himself. Then the interviewer turned to Emery, who has CP, and asked “If you could change something about your body, what would it be?” Emery replied “Nothing.”

I come to the end of this month of Danceability training and I understand even more clearly that disability is a state of mind not a state of our bodies. We make choices about how we are in the world. It is very hard to break our patterns and our beliefs. For me, dance, yoga and movement have fundamentally changed my relationship with my body. I have come, in middle age, to believe in the ability of my body. And this is a blessing. I begin to understand the body as a blessing, no matter what the form of the body.

Da Vinci Rock and Rolling

Da Vinci Days and the first performance of the Corvallis Quartet: KinAesthetic Society. More photos to come soon 

Put to bed haiku

A plush nest: Lion, bear, giraffe
Holding safe
a young boy’s dream

We have a long ritual: bath, teeth, stories, darkness, back scratch. Mom has to do a few minutes of computer (the tap, tap is important). Dad plays the piano. Slowly my young one feels safe to sleep again. If I turn off the light too early, stop the tap tap too soon, then he awakens disturbed and we begin again. Eventually I turn to my own toiletry rituals, reading until the eyes blur. Listening to Jay now tap taping one keyboard or another. Gently lulled into surrender and sleep.

This is the best part of life: the simple put-to-beds, snuggling with a freshly washed child in the summertime, the smell and touch of the warm air. I am grateful for the abundance of this, the best part of life.

Dream Battles

 

battles

Last night I dreamt my teachers were battling
for my mind and soul. My old PhD advisor was there, a
persuasive old beast of a man looking for me in only
one direction. On the other side of my heart was
a woman shaman who looked everywhere for me.
I heard her calling again and again but I was afraid.

I was afraid. I thought they were both trying to kill me.
I began building an elaborate self defense made of found wood,
a rickety fortress in which to hide. And then I awoke.

I looked around my bedroom. I got up to use the loo; I
took a few deep breaths. Then I thought
about my two earth teachers. A spirit teacher and a mind
teacher battling for something I thought might die
in the wake of their battle. I found myself still alive,
I don’t know if the battle is over or not. I am still alive.

Scottish Dancers

 

Scottish Dancers II

We stacked one rock on top of another.
Trying to balance their longest axes,
and create an incredible stone dance.

Rocks only appear to be still.
They dance in a time we can not know.
When we are not looking they fall.

Attracted again and again to the call
of their mother, they fall.
Gravity and weight call them home.

Earth and water call them out of themselves.
Small pieces break away on their return.
Water rills and lichen eat. There is no still life.

One day this stone will return to soil, then earth.
One day the crystal souls will be released
we can only hope for the same call.

Each breath is shared, with rock
and time. We are literally one, in god's time,
in real time, in the time of star and sun.

We stack one rock on top of another.
Trying to balance their longest axes,
fancying ourselves creators of slow dances.

Country Fair Responsibilities

“Dance Responsibly” warned the signage at the gate of the fair. Made me wonder what was happening inside. A space so colorful I didn’t stand out any longer. I don't know if this was responsible dance or not. But it sure felt good.....

Oregon Country Fair 

Country Fair Dance I

Mish Mash  

We dance 

Yea 

Heidi up