st.chrony city

"Language is the means of dealing with the non-present world." -Robert Hall
"Where there is other, there is fear." The Upanishads

Another magical day in this neighborhood of planet earth.  I woke up on the soft futon bed, in Phoenix's apartement in Berkeley, welcomed by the bright light that came pouring through the deep, rectangle-shaped, skylight in the middle of her one-bedroom's ceiling.  It was lovely, to indulge, half-sleeping, bathed by some good beats from Pandora (you know Pandora, don't you?) while Phoenix got ready to go to work.
I too, was going to work.
I was meeting with Johnny at 9o'clock, at a Cafe outside of the Rockridge Bart station.  We were meeting...  "in clown".  It's just a little bit past rush hour in downtown Rockridge, and we're wearing red noses.  But that's not the most important thing happening... it's also extremely sunny and beautiful outside today!!  Let's see how people will react.  I think that my favorite part is those people who walk by and pretend not to have noticed that I'm wearing a big red nose on my face.  Maybe it has to do with reaction time in the human brain.  Maybe it's because we are socially trained...
Other people had smiles big as the sun brighten their faces.  Some kids got excited, some didn't know how to feel.  Johnny and I, we were just trying to be what we want to be.
So we tried to plan our "gig" at Salem where we're expected to perform forty-five minutes shows for three groups of elders, one of which composed of persons who suffer from alzheimer.  Swimming further in the pool of clown therapy.
It's about making a connection. With the heart.
I need some balloons.
What do they mean.. these balloons?  They are clouds made of the dreams and hope we see floating upward and away...  Metaphors, always.
Sipped an evil decaf coffee on the terrace of the Cafe, journaling about my experience of last night's Butoh class.  Greeted passers-by, made random comments.  I had license.  I wore the nose.
And to help the people trust you, show them your heart.
Reading Ken Wilber's Atman Project, revisiting concepts of the evolutions of consciousness... holding a lot. Breathing.
Took the train for SF around eleven o'clock.  As the train slithered loudly I thought, "I'm almost travelling... I feel free," and I watched the Berkeley Hills get smaller on the horizon...
Got to Claire's house a bit in advance, so I sat outside in the sunshine and read some more.  Wilber writes of "a transpersonal view of human development".  I'm a philosopher who works as a nanny... Claire is a little teacher.  I can't believe the chance I have had, to be in her life and grow alongside her and her family.  Wilber talks of oral and anal phases, and of the path to higher levels of Consciousness... I think of Claire's development.  Of her personality and her fate.  I think of the Mystery.
I let the Sun touch my face with its warm hand.

I don't know how it happened.  I told myself I would take time to exhale, and here I am, motivated to schedule all of these things... because they are all beautiful moments... rehearsal with a friend, dance class, theatrical event, free introduction to drama therapy, with a little bit of juggling here, and there... The irony is that "dropping out" of school coincides with all these opportunity to play with audiences: at Salem, and at Purusha yoga Studio's "Om Base", on Friday the 9th.
I wish I could do something at the Booksmith, but I'm starting to think it might be too much for me to chew, for the moment.
But I'm feeling good, inspired.  I'm going to learn how to play the ukulele.  I'll play some reggae and some Janis Joplin, some Beatles and some old classics from the 20s and the 30s.  I'm told that it can become a great way to connect and entertain these people with alzheimer.  I want to learn these songs, for them.
Malaika came over after dinner, and we started brain-storming about Om Base.  She works there.  She's putting this whole event together, or at least the 'show' part.  We have twenty minutes to make our offering... And I fear it won't be enough!  I mean... imagine the potential comedic material we can dram from the yoga world.
Turns out, Malaika and I could have very similar "aesthetics"... To be continued, as we plan on "rehearsing" in a couple of days.
I like my workdays.

Water and Computers

Today (Sunday) I went to church.  I got out of the house around 8am, and took the bus in direction of the outer Sunset district, where I was to meet for three hours with clown teacher/mentor Dan Griffiths.
I had met him for a drink on Friday evening, after going to The Garage and attending a showcase of work in progress by resident artists, one of which he has been directing.  Sitting around the pub table after the show, we talked about the particularities of doing 'therapeutic' clowning (he would say that all clowning is therapeutic) for seniors, about the difference between art and entertainment, and about the ritualistic lineage of all performance art.
I like him a lot.  I get the sense that he's coming from the same place as I am.  So I asked if he would work with me, as a guide to clowning and the creation of some original material I have been dreaming up for some time.  He said, ''How about Sunday morning?  Let's be crazy and do like 9... to noon, what do you say?"
It was no sacrifice at all to have such a commitment on a Sunday morning.  As far as I was concerned, I was simply going to church.
The play space he has created in his garage is simple and efficient: he has simply rolled out an old rug, and set up a chair in front of it.  We did a gradual warm-up, (i.e. stretches and spine rolls), followed by some basic tai chi/kung fu exercises, before we were to explicitly entered the world of clown.  The first exercise constituted of him sitting in the chair, and me leaving the space to re-enter "as clown", which is to say, with the most total awareness of myself and my surroundings as is possible.
Clowns tell the truth about what is there.
That's why clowns are healers; they are bringers of light.
Further exercises consisted of pointing at things I noticed and sharing my findings and reactions with him, first in a non-verbal way, then with only sounds, then with their names (which made me very excited! But is it because I am empowered by the ability of naming objects?  Or is it because I delight in sharing in clear, common understanding with someone?  It is surely both.), and finally, he had me do the exercise in which one points at things and calls them by another name.  It was hard; the gears in my brain were slow to click.  I felt the pressure of time, and I put pressure on myself to be quick, spontaneous, and creative.  I would get flustered; I could hear my inner critic step in the stream of consciousness I was trying to join, "You're not original enough!  It's taking you too long! Come on, name this!  You're stuck.. again!"
We talked about what was happening, and he then asked me to celebrate every instance of feeling stuck, or mistaken, etc.  In doing the exercise I ended up laughing, to the point of tears, in genuine acknowledgment of such a recurring phenomenon: the inner judge.
It was pretty funny.
What if I did just that, on stage?
For the third part of "the class", he had the idea of going out into the outside world.  "Monks go out in pairs like that, amongst the people, to contemplate the world as it is," he said.  So we took a field trip to an Asian supermarket down the street from his house, and going inside we proceeded to follow our curiosity and to share our findings with one another.  Dried up shrimps and other snacks, vegetables and fruits we didn't know the names of, garlic and cucumber and mango preserves, sea urchins and razor crabs and red beans ice cream and candies from the other side of the globe: there is so much I am not familiar with!
The sun came to its zenith, and so class ended; but for me more magic on the horizon as I did as I had planned and walked just a couple of blocks... to Ocean beach!

Sand dollars had washed up on the sand... by the dozens!  There were all kinds of people there.  I can't believe I live so close to the Pacific Ocean like this, and that I so rarely take the time to go be with it/Her.  But hey, all is perfect.  "There is nothing to be done," claims Dan.  I have been wanting to come say hello, especially because of what happened to Japan recently.  I have earthquakes and tsunamis on my mind.  I have the powers of nature on my mind, and I needed to meet with them.
I gathered a handful of sand dollars in record time.  They are so perfectly beautiful and fascinating... so... pentaradially symmetric!  Like flowers, like trees, like all the gifts of a natural world so purposeful in its designs.
Of course, it made me think of the recent tragedy of Japan.  I thought of how the same waters, which bring us such beautiful shells offerings, are the same waters that destroyed the lives of hundreds of Japanese people only a week or so ago.  I looked at the pile of fragile yet unbroken shells I held in my hand.  I wondered if it was not sacrilegious to think of bringing them home with me, just 'cause they're so beautiful.  I was just coming the conclusion that it all depends on the intention and mindfulness behind the actions, and then, just like that, I proceeded to create a little altar on the sand... I found a red plastic cap, and around it I laid a series of white, perfectly round and whole, sand dollars: the Japanese flag.
Unfortunately, I think that something like that might have the potential to upset people.  (Or is it that I am actually partly doing it out of spite?  And for who? For what?)  But as I built the mandala I came closer to my real purpose: speaking the truth.  There is no way that these people who take walks on the beach are not thinking of the tsunami.  But I'm not trying to scare them.  (Even though, we are scared indeed!)  I am not saying "this could happen to you too", but rather, "Let us recognize our connection with the plight of the Japanese people, and thus send our prayers for the suffering they are going through."  It is the suffering of a global world now.  Now that we are finally realizing how interconnected everything is.

An impermanent, interactive memorial

Nobody noticed my interactive art piece.  I put a pile of red rocks, and another of white shells, next to the flag I had started to compose on the sand.  I wrote "Rest in Peace" as a title, and "Add to the piece, make a prayer." next to the surpluses.  But I didn't see anybody even notice it.
We are indeed like grains of sand on this planet.  And if my gesture remained unseen it nevertheless exists.  I hope that my prayer might please our Mother the Ocean.  I hope that magic may still be possible.

I walked a long way along the beach, but eventually decided to the go to street level, because I wasn't sure how far I had come.
What's the saying? "God acts in mysterious ways"?
I had not passed five blocks when I came across the very clown woman I had seen performed on Friday night.  (I had never met her before then, or even heard of her.)  Call it coincidence.  It's a good-looking word after all.
Our conversation quickly reached deeper grounds, and within minutes I knew I was meeting a friend, a peer, a clown.
I don't quite remember how it came on the subject, but she invited me to her apartment to learn how to make balloon sculptures!  Had I ever thought I would experience anything like this?  Nope.  But there I was, following a generous stranger clown fella, on our way to make poodles out of multicolored balloons.
"Balloons - or juggling, for that matter - have nothing to do with clowning," she admitted.  To which I quickly replied, "It's a pretext to establish a connection with people though."
"But it's a good way to make money here in the U.S." she added, "People like that you give them something they can own."
Wow.

We drank tea, and ate herring in paprika sauce on crackers, and I learned the techniques to twisting balloons into dogs and flowers, all the while exchanging musings on the meaning of artistic integrity and thematic tendencies. (She has just recently discovered she is "a burlesque clown".  She wonders what to do, how to bridge her creative endeavors with the realities of working with kids in her day job.
It's a tricky one, indeed.)  She's [also] going to Europe in the Fall. ;)

--

So all in all: an incredibly magical Sunday in the outer Sunset.
I came home to my apartment to find my roommate Robyn.  I like her too, she's a very intelligent and powerful woman.  When we discuss, I can feel both of us growing in spirit.
I asked her if she'd be interested in creating a Goddess altar in the house.

I feel myself stepping into sacred territories.. stepping into myself... as a sacred vessel.
Axé!

A quote

"Comedy is like a rubber ball.  You gotta have a hard surface on which to make it bounce" - Mel Brooks

Blooming spring, of destruction and creation.

Today was virtually my last show at Circus Center.  There is was: the last three of us clowns left standing: Jesse, Emanuel, and I, with an hour long marathon: a show in 13 shorts acts. (Myself being in 8 of them with 4 different characters- of which one pair of split personalities living in one body.)  But I have to say, this whole creative/rehearsal process has been quite exerting,  both physically (oh! the human body!*), and emotionally.  I did cry almost every day during the past couple of weeks.
To be performing in front of friends and their friends, performing "in front of strangers", meanwhile revealing of ourselves, if only through buffoonery... Merging two hundred years of clown entrées with our own contemporary comments and idiosyncracies.. what at trip!  What a privilege!

*I think of the human body as our mother, the Earth.  I think of how we regard and live with matter.  Mater.

[Two of] my mentors (James Donlon and Christina Lewis) actually came to see the show.  I am touched.  I can barely believe what is happening.  I do love performing... that's why it's so vulnerable.  Because I do love dancing! and I love singing! and even if I'm "imperfect" at it there is a way to share my passion.  Even if I'm imperfect, there is a way to share my passion.
My mind is made of rushing rivers, of thoughts, running towards a future unknown.  Falls and streams and oceans.. my mind is Water.
My parents have not yet seen me perform.  Reminder.
I am twenty-eight years old.  I hear myself saying those words almost everyday.
But what does it matter?!  What does it mean?  Who has said to me that it should mean something?  That I should have more "certainty" and more "security" at this point?
Well I have to admit, that a part of me (definitely one of my preferred and most used phrases over the past two or three years now.  It revolutionary; you should try if you haven't already) wants those things because aging does bring with it the realization of physical reality, i.e. the phenomenon of what we call health.
I think of health.  I see people everywhere, around me, facing their own health.   It makes me thing of responsibility... that growing up does mean become the sole responsible for your own body.  Or does it? Isn't that why we have "the state", like a mother, a collectivity... (vs the system?) to assure a certain level or care for the many individuals around the globe?
Yeah, I think of "the state"... and of "the nation-state".  They are different.  One has the looks of an apparatus, often dehumanized by the mechanization of its functions and multiple other aspects.  The other denotes history, if not ancestry.  It should denote culture and tradition; and some form of unity in having worked as one in times of hardship.  No need for wars; for real nations are made of humble people who share a same piece of land.. I don't know, I'm just musing.
Different nations have different versions of the idea of nation.
I just don't spend my time thinking about what most people think about. (It's harder to play sarcastic in writing, series of letters tending to be taken literally.) I think about my mind a lot.  I think about the state of the world, about taboos, and imminent struggles, and the need for solutions.  I think, to relate with my emotions.  I think that I'm alone.  Surely nobody else thinks that!

Conversation with a friend today.  Telling him about my brotherization pattern.  Talking about my fear that I might not find a man who can "handle my power".  Well, in fact, what I actually said was that men don't seem to seek "that kind" of [yang] energy in a woman.  But you know what?  In this instant, I think that what I said was bullshit, (or should I not judge myself so harshly and use "paradoxical" and "ironic" instead!) was the opposite of my power; because in that very statement I failed to demonstrate, or affirm, that so-called power.  (Wow! How Nietzsche would be proud of me. )  And for fear of what?
Well, there is of course also the vulnerable side of me.  She still needs to hide a bit.  And that's okay.  I can hold a lot.  I am receptive to a lot.  Yin.

My friend pointed that - and I agree completely - I should also take into account how I have been mostly focusing on myself and my path; and that he wishes he did that more for himself.  Well it's true.  I admit I am not feeling very "available" for intimacy.. there is [still] too much uncertainty.  How can I share these parts of myself with others, intimately speaking (aaarrggh! whatever that means!), when I am working at deconstructing and exploring myself so deeply, while trying not to lose some of the pieces in the process?

Was today a day like any other day?
A hundred emotions.
Just like my mind.
Though my body has limitations.

I hope to touch people.  I hope to make them think too.
I want to see the whole world as holy, healthy... whole.  And I want my energy to be in harmony with that.
Call me a hippy.  I have dozens other parts of me.
At the same time I know the pain isn't going anywhere.  Death and the realities of physicality are all around me.  I hold that.  I breathe through and with it.

Today was a day like any other days.
If you have a hard time following my thoughts well.. welcome to my world! ;)

En-visioning

Today I created my first business card.  After that, I took out my unicycle and slackline, and went in search of a good spot to play and meditate.  For that's the business.
There are a few seemingly different aspects to my identity.  It's a challenge trying to integrate it all.
I have been pondering a lot of my needs, values and goals lately.  Well, I always do, but this week has brought sudden changes in what had been a set mode of life, at least since last September.  This week, we in the Clown Conservatory agreed to.. how to put it... quit the program.  It may seem like a radical or even impulsive thing.  It's difficult to succinctly explain the reasons behind our decision.  Besides, I can only speak for myself.
That's what I did last Monday, when as we were walking to lunch I shared with my peers some of my thoughts about possibly terminating with the program at the end of this semester.  I wanted to let them know how I've been feeling, because I knew their responses would affect my feeling.  With so few of us in the venture now, any one person leaving the group invariably affects the whole.  I was juggling with thoughts of moving on, but didn't want to leave my friends stranded.  So I simply told them that, and asked them if they ever felt similarly.
''Well Ev, thanks for bringing this up," they answered.  ''I'm kinda feeling the same way too.''
We decided to sit with our conflicting feelings and thoughts for a few more days, or at least until our upcoming show is over, next week.  But as we heard teachers talking about future plans it became clear that we needed to let them know our position.  I'm not sure how it got to a conclusion so quickly, but last thing we know we were sitting in a meeting telling our director about our decision to drop out after this term.
It was scary.  I feared that perhaps I had brought about this whole thing; and that I might regret it now that I had no control over the situation.  But I shared this with my peers, and they assured me that I was not responsible.  ''Everything was crumbling anyway."
I have never dropped out of anything.  I usually stick with it to the end, for I do believe that there's potential for growth in every challenging enterprise.  I know there would have been more to learn about myself and about performing through this program, but I've also learned that sometimes saying no is absolutely valid.  It's like a romantic partnership; sometimes they comes a time when breaking up is the wisest, healthiest thing to do.  There comes a time when one must create her own path.

I'm going to create my own ''conservatory".  I want to seek teachers that will be spiritual and artistic guides.  I want to learn tight mime technique.  I want to explore and develop a greater movement and dancing vocabulary.  I want to walk and dance on a line tied between poles, I want to practice balance everyday.  I will seek people to juggle and pass with.  I will meditate.
Today I created my first business card.  My trade is hard to define.  Will it be hard to trade/sell?
I am learning that what I do, which is who I am, is valuable.
I am learning to take care of myself and my needs.  And that involves making money because I need money to pay the professionals to provide good and services I need to sustain health.  I wouldn't mind a mixed personal economy; bartering here and there as much as possible.  But the fact is, there is freedom in using money.
So I'd like to make some money doing what I love.  I'd like to make my way through life while contributing to the betterment of the world.  I am searching for a middle path between being held by the system and transforming it at the same time!  To me, clowning might be just that.

I set up my slackline over concrete, in front of the Dept. of Motor Vehicle office.  Today was a beautiful sunny day; many were out and about, soaking it in.  I realized I was doing something meaningful - Hooray - by taking an activity we normally practice in park and bringing it to the forefront... of the urban jungle.  Line dancing evokes fascination.  It gets people's attention.  It creates possibilities for connection, and maybe even sometimes, relationships.
That is part of my trade; I want to bring focus on wonder and balance.  I want to inspire and empower.  I want to catalyze thought and highlight beauty.  I want to share my passion and perspective.
Can I do that?

Holding Space for the Unknown

Today is a sweet day.
I woke up on a futon bed, my ex-girlfriend still sleeping in her bed, in the same room.  We celebrated her thirty third birthday yesterday; the evening overflowed with the love and spirit of the many good-hearted people who surround her.  I think I can say that everybody felt especially nourished by such meaningful and authentic conversations, laughs and prayers.  For the time being, we were living the community we all so deeply crave for.
Her boyfriend was there.  Friends I have known throughout the four and a half years of partnership with Phoenix asked me how I felt about her new relationship with him.  I told them that he and I actually get along quite well.  I do feel a certain discomfort in my stomach when I see them being affectionate, but it is nothing in comparison with the love I have for them both.  This is a small revolution.. the kind Phoenix and I always had the potential to create.  Love, unbound and unconditional.
I reiterated my birthday wishes to her, and left the apartment to head back to "the city."  But on my way I had to stop by the coffee shop to get a bite... and a single soy latte.  I sat to eat breakfast and read for about half an hour.  That's the way I like to start the day!
I got back to my apartment and quickly changed into some "work clothes;" picture overalls with a yellow and orange striped button shirt, a short tie with flower patterns on it, and my black and neon pink converse.  Oh, and a red nose.
I took public transportation to Edgewood Center, where I spent the next hour with a group of five kids, teaching them how to juggle rings and explore funny walks.  Every time I go volunteer there I am fascinated with the way these children go in and out of themselves, at times closing down and refusing to participate or show interest, and the next moment smiling with pride as they succeed in trying something new.  I like those moments.
I came back home and hung out in the kitchen, reading more of "The Witch and the Clown; archetypes of human sexuality," which I am enjoying a lot for its insights into the psychological dimensions of these archetypes.  Even though the authors focus on neurotic aspects (i.e. the witch representing the repressed masculine/animus, and the clown, the repressed feminine/anima), I am hoping that my unconscious may wrap itself around some piece of wisdom that I can incorporate in my work.
It's a lot to ponder.  It's especially hard to come across those descriptions of some of my own feelings and innermost thoughts; sometimes in quite a literal way.  It's disturbing to face and acknowledge some of the feelings and beliefs I'm discovering I hold about my mother and my father.  It's so amazing to unveil the workings of the psyche.
I think that I feel a lot.  I feel that I think a lot.  I want to learn to listen to my feelings.  I must have enough ego strength to do that.  I am working towards it.  For only when I have taught myself to feel safe in feeling all that comes through will I be able to share it with the public.  I realize that if part of my ambition is to create space for people to feel everything we feel, I must first find that space within myself.   I don't think that it's a quantifiable thing.  Feelings are not finite, they flow forever.  Thus this process of deepening and holding awareness potentially never ceases.
I am learning and growing a lot.
Amen.