Quelques histoires entremêlées

Quelques histoires entremêlées

J'ai passé plusieurs nuits à dormir dehors au cours des deux dernières semaines. J'ai installé un matelas sur la galerie et lorsque la nuit est assez fraîche, je sors tout simplement mon édredon et mon oreiller. Je m'endors au son du vent et me réveille aux chants des oiseaux.

Les oiseaux se réveillent par vagues; les premiers - les cormorans? - entâment leurs conversations dès quatre heure et demie(!), ensuite ce sont les huards et les bruants qui prennent la relève. Ils discutent, je ne sais trop de quoi. Ils organisent l'horaire de leur matinée. Les corneilles enfin se réveillent elles aussi.
S'il est absolument vrai que le chant des corneilles peut être très désagréable, cela n'aura pas suffit à rendre ces oiseaux détestables à mes yeux. En fait, je me suis, comment dire, plutôt rapprochée des corneilles depuis mon arrivée en Gaspésie.  Je les considère comme des totems. Des spirit animals.

On les nomme charognardes et même nuisibles, mais elles s'occupent de ce qui doit être accomplit pour que le cycle continue. Elles sont omnivores comme nous. Elles s'adaptent et sont fidèles, intelligentes.

Et ce noir sans fin..

Toutes mes excuses à l'artiste, je n'ai pas la source de l'image. Oups!

Je me réveille doucement, j'observe la terre qui tourne. Le soleil se dresse lentement sur l'horizon...
Quelle heure peut-il bien être? Il est huit heure, presque immanquablement. Je fais quelques étiremments et j'entre dans la maison pour prendre un verre d'eau.

Ces deux mois de vacances m'auront appris qu'il est angoissant de se lever le matin sans avoir de projet pour le jour. Et surtout, sans avoir personne à qui devoir quoi que ce soit... outre soi-même bien sûr.

''La liberté totale! Je peux faire ce que je veux! J'ai tellement de 'projets' en tête! ''
 Et souvent la seconde voix: ''Et si tu n'arrivais pas à accomplir quoi que ce soit aujourd'hui? Quel gaspille!''
Peur d'avoir peur.  À chacun de ces matins incertains je flirt un peu avec cet étrange sentiment. C'est fascinant.

Alors quoi?
Une routine s'est tout de même installée: salle de bain, déjeuner, facebook et courriels, bouffée d'air, salutations au soleil pseudo-yoga style, tournée des plantes. Je mange toujours un peu avant de me faire un café. Les habitudes me dérangent et me sécurisent à la fois. Sont-ce des habitudes, ou des compulsions?

''Encore une autre journée. Encore la même rengaine.''
L'ennui sait si aisément s'émiscer, pernicieusement, lorsque je m'énorgeuille de savoir surfer la vague du ''moment présent''. Car le moment présent, c'est pas une figure de style. C'est un choix profond, la conscience des actions posées à chaque instant, dans une perspective de totale liberté...
Oh! Ces existentialistes!


Ces derniers jours ont été merveilleux. De la bonne compagnie, beaucoup de clowning et de jonglerie, beaucoup de danse, et de musique, de slackline. Mon invitée aime chanter and so do I, alors on s'en est données à coeur-joie! C'était remplit de musique!

Clowning at Haldimand

J'ai obtenu un ''gig'' à la plage Haldimand, dans le cadre de l'annuel concours de châteaux de sable! Au départ nous étions supposé y aller à deux, C. et moi, mais il n'a finalement pas pu se libérer du boulot alors ... mon premier gig ''seule''.

Mon rôle, ma job, c'était de déambuler en jonglant. J'avais mes balles à jongler et mes quilles... et aucun contrôle sur la musique de l'événement (part idéale d'inconnu, le régal du clown). Impressioner l'audience? Ce n'est pas l'approche que j'avais choisie.  Je préfère mettre l'accent sur l'interaction et le jeux; c'est là qu'est tout le défi! Tension entre ce besoin primaire de plaire, et l'ambition de souligner un peu de vérité. Si j'échappe la balle, c'est un fait. Tous le voient et tous ressentent l'instant du ''comment devrais-je me sentir?''

''Introduction à la gravité!'' que je leur lance!

 Je voulais essayer d'être tout simplement... full of Love et de danser et de jouer comme j'aime tant le faire lorsque je suis seule et que je m'imagine dans le feu de l'action.  Mais est-ce que la musique allait m'inspirer? Ou plutôt, qu'est-ce que la musique allait m'inspirer?

Je me suis lancée, pantalons mauves à l'appui, et j'ai fait ce que j'aime faire... La musique: booyah!! (Amen!)

Je me promène le long des sites de construction. J'invite les équipes à célébrer leur oeuvre en devenir, je les incite à danser. Je jongle et je danse sur le rythme; je m'fais plaisir!

Un homme est étendu sur la plage, pénard. Il s'essuie le ventre alors que je passe près de lui. ''C'est une cause perdue m'sieur, c'est certain que vous allez avoir du sable dans le nombril!'' Les enfants s'émerveillent, ils veulent jongler eux aussi. Je leur propose d'essayer de faire tenir une quille en équilibre sur le bout de leur doigt. Je les fais danser... J'adore ma job!

Je suis à Gaspé depuis environ sept mois, enseignante au cégep et clown à temps partiel. J'enseigne les sciences politiques au secteur anglophone, je leur parle de libéralisme, de marxisme, de nationalisme.
Dans mes temps libres, je chante dans les bars. Je danse une danse un peu macabre, de l'eau jusqu'aux genoux, le vent sur ma peau. Je marche lentement. Je marche sur un fil.


Le challenge, c'est de continuer de dire oui.

Oui aux journées vides et difficiles. Oui aux imperfections, aux paradoxes, et à l'humilité.

Oui aux erreurs, aux échecs, aux cul-de-sacs et aux rebondissements. Oui au chaos et à l'inévitable aléatoire.

-Je réalise parfaitement qu'écrire à la première personne comme je le fais peut sembler indiqué plutôt une inflation de l'égo**, et pour ma défense je dirai simplement que... j'essaie.

Carl Jung on the Pitfall of Ego-Inflation

 

Finalement, troizévénements

1. Assise dehors, j'entends le son des vagues - de petites vagues - et celui du vent dans les feuilles de bouleau. J'entends les oiseaux gazouiller, et de temps en temps, j'entends.. une flûte! J'ai un voisin qui joue de la flûte!

2. Plus tôt: Un colibri s'est approché de la galerie pour explorer un peu - les mobiles et sculptures en bois, un bouquet de fleurs sèchées, avant de poursuivre son chemin. Juste là, maintenant, colibri est revenu nous voir mais cette fois-ci il s'est stationné à environ un mettre de ma ''station de travail''. Tout petit, minuscule, il a joué de son bec avec un bout de corde à linge pendouillant, puis avec une épingle à linge. (Je ne crois pas qu'il ait remarqué le chapelet!) Wow.

Si voyage rime avec magie, alors je suis en voyage ici.

3.

Il y a un oiseau qui s'est frappé dans ma fenêtre, alors je suis sortie pour jeter un coup d'oeil. Il a paniqué un moment et s'est trouvé un spot sur une poutre, tout près de moi. Et il est resté là pour reprendre ses esprit. Je suis restée avec lui.
Nous nous regardions, tous les deux mal à l'aile..

(Car je m'suis vraisemblablement foulé le poignet)

clown is on!

Last night was my very first clown performance in Montréal! You know how they say that individualization and actualization of your truest self is often much harder to accomplish when you're amongst your parents and your people?  You know that, right?  I mean, that's why we travel the world.  It's not only to discover other cultures, it's also very much a quest to meet other, deeper parts of our self.



Hence, after five years of building a relationship to my artistic self in San Franciso, there I finally was: Café Co-op L'Artère, 8h30pm, on a stage in front of a hundred-plus beautiful people, all of them eager to see the show... ''Radical Vulvas: a night of performance art, with open discussion on gender, identity, and feminism.''

The event was put together by the ReBELLEs Collective, a pan-Canadian feminist collective, with a subgroup in Montreal.  Significant fact: a lot of the organizers happen to be in the Theater and Development program at Concordia, which I had sort of applied to last year.
Let's face it, it was the perfect setting for a re-birthing of sorts.
I had gone shopping for the occasion: cheap make-up, pink g-string, hair extension, none of these items being worth more than a buck.  This clown was goin' to make her/himself pret-ty!  This wasn't the grotesque and absurdly confident Magda, it was a new clown... the eager one, the auguste, the one who doesn't talk.

Of course, I can easily list a lot of things I would want to do differently.  First of all: SLOW THE F*%K DOWN.  Second: SLOW THE F%$K DOWN.  Thirdly: breathe more, and take your time a bit more.  In other words: slow down.  It's a muscle, an acquired skill.  It takes a lot of practice.
On the other hand, I think I'm pretty natural at playing with audience members.  This whole act was half improvisation and half technical.  Getting myself to rehearse was a bit hard at first, but once I acquired the props and started to play a bit, the storyline sort of drew itself organically.  It's easy to look foolish when I try to put make-up on!
I guess that my favorite aspect of the process is how I collaged two acts together, incorporating my classic 'heart piece' as the second portion of the act.  When I asked, a few people said their favorite part was when I ''was hanging from my heart''.  Oh! The power of imagery... I love it!!

Now I feel super inspired.  And I want to do more.  I have tons of ideas for more performances.  Some in clowns, sure, but definitely some other stuff too.

Needless to say: Montréal is growing on me :)

Se puede hacer lo

It's my last night in Europa and there's a free Cabaret at a wonderful community circus space, called La Nave Espacial.  I discovered the place thanks to David, who I had met and exchanged contacts with back in Berlin.  He's a juggler, and he's Mexican, and I've never met anybody which such original and protuberant piercings and scarifications on their face.  Yes, David looks like a member of the new tribal culture, some kind of "postmodern shamanistic" type.  He's colorful, but quiet.  He's a nomad too, and well... he knows where it's at.

He landed in Barcelona about a week ago and immediately found the Nave.  Meeting on our favorite social network the next day, he invited me to come check the place out.

"Should I bring my juggling clubs?" I asked.

"No. We have everything here."

... Yes they do!!

We're talking about a gigantic industrial hangar kind of space.  In front, a few caravans are parked alongside the curb.  Upon walking into the vast entrance lounge, one might greet a few hippies, some acrobats (with that kind of unmistakable body), or some b-boys.  Children, sexagenarian, locals and wanderers.  All meet here. 

"Como funciona todo?" I asked some circusy folks smoking cigarettes in the /communal kitchen.

"Pues. Puedes ir por allá, esta el gym.  Todo bien, si quieres practicar.''

"Y... es gratis o .. ?"  

"si, todo gratis..."

"Vale!"

No entrance fee!? Free access to all of this?

I notice a chalkboard with a weekly schedule on it: those are all the free classes offered: spray paint, flamenco, breakdancing, body awareness, etc.

Una Nave muy especial!

I go to the gym to find David and... wow: the place is fully equipped!  The full array of circus apparels - trapezes, fabrics, mats, ropes, rings, etc. - the heavenly sight of which spiced up by some good sound system blasting in the breakdancing area.  Jugglers, acrobats, b-boys share the space.  There are even some  weight-lifting machines on the side!

There it is: from babies crawling around to young teenagers, folks in their prime and old activists, whites and blacks, latinos and spanish, etc.   All here practicing their passion, their trade, on a wednesday afternoon.

"La Nave"  also counts a computer lounge, a sewing room, two dance studios, a laundry room, a ping pong table, plus a theater area, and, I assume, some cubbies or rooms for those who live and sleep there.

How can all of this be open to free use?  Well because the place was abandoned and is now "occupied", of course!  The project was made possible by a few leaders - who somehow came up with the equipment -  many of which are originally from Latin America.  The place has been running for about three years now.

How freakin'' inspiring!

''Eso es... cómo... Utopia!'' I suggest to an older Argentinian man I'm chatting with.

''No es utopia,'' he corrects me, '' se puede hacer.''

Please, let there be a place like this in Montreal!

Last night in Europe then.  I haven't seen half of the common attractions of Barcelona but I don't feel like getting myself lost in the meanders of yet another city.  I'm satisfied with what I have experienced: the fantastic modernist designs of Gaudi and his contemporaries, the museum of Catalunya (which by the way I didn't get to visit in its entirety, even though I was there for three hours!), the Barceloneta beach, and the old city.  That alone is enough to feel overwhelmed.  Too much would be hard to digest.  I like to keep it delightful and inspiring.

I really wanted to write about my visit to the Park Güell as well.  That's a park on a hill, where some rich industrialist named Güell had Gaudi and his architect buddies design modernist village of "modest" habitations.  

 

It was 1900 to 1914.  It was the industrial boom, and Güell was inspired by the English Garden City Movement (super interesting wikipedia discovery!).  The area is surreal and superbly gorgeous!  I wish urban design could still find such inspiration instead of giving us those sad, uniform, unicolored, developments.  Aargh, it makes me nauseous just to think of it.

But I digress! I tangent! I parenthesize! Pardon me (and quantum phenomena) for this.  As I was saying...

Last night in Europe.

Free Cabaret.

I have seven Euros left for the rest of my time on this side of the pond.  I must be intelligent.  I must plan.  I decide to find a grocery store in order to buy myself some lunch/dinner as well as something for the airport.  (I'm flying out at 6am, so I'm going to have to sleep at the airport.)  I could have saved so much money had I done more home cooking, but then I wouldn't have had tasted all these local delicacies!

Way up to the Park:
outdoor escalator!

I arrive there and sit outside to eat some bread and cheese.  I don't know anybody and I feel awkward.  I'm not feeling very extraverted.  I think that my Spanish might actually have regressed a bit recently, because I'm tired. So I just sit there for a while, reading my Kerouac and enjoying some sun despite the cold air.  In 24 hours, I'll be in winter land.  

I eventually go inside to find a bunch of people busying themselves in the kitchen.  Turns out they are serving dinners for one Euro tonight!  Ah!  This is just incredible.  I wonder how much of the food have been "recycled" as they say here.  How much of it was dumpstered...  I hang around the space, offering myself to help with whatever needs to be done.  I'm assigned to the setting up of tables and chairs, which I accomplish quickly so that I'm left again to read my novel.

A quote from The Lonesome Traveller:

"À force de penser aux étoiles toutes les nuits, je commence à comprendre: 'ces étoiles sont des mots' et tous ces mondes innombrables de la Voie Lactée sont des mots, et notre monde en est un lui aussi.  Et je m'aperçois d'une chose:quel que soit l'endroit oü je me trouve, dans une petite chambre pleine de mes pensées ou dans cet univers infini d'étoiles et de montagnes, tout est en moi.  Il n'y a aucun besoin de solitude.  Il faut donc aimer la vie pour ce qu'elle est et ne se faire aucune idée préconçue.'' (p.203)

At 7h30 the lounge is full of people waiting to grab a seat in the theater.  It is really cold and I'm hoping things will get a bit warmer once we're all siting side by side.  There are some hundred and fifty people here.  And what a beautiful crowd!  I got a spot on the bleachers, but most people are sitting on pillows on the concrete ground.  Not sure they're warmer.

The actors begin the show while people are still finding their spot and chatting.  They don't have microphones.  On first impression I think: ''wWait! There are still people talking and moving around..'' But then my impression changes; it feels like a public square or a parochial gathering.. it feels amazingly intimate this way!

Little by little the attention focusses on our masters of ceremony.  The first act is a clown woman... She is GOOD!  The little physical habits, the mimics, the candor, her absurd relationship with the objects of her world... she is wonderfully lovable!  Wow... This is the approach I want so bad to take... this innocence... this childlike joy ... this lightness.

I'm inspired.

The second act is an aerial straps duo.  I have never seen anything like this.  The mise en scène is wonderful, the technique is sharp, the moves are original.  The images of two hobos flying and spinning in the air is tender and poetic.

Applauses to warm the artists and ourselves.  I'm experiencing a small revolution:

This is it.  That relationship between audience and artists, this is the real circus.  Our MCs remind us: ''Esta frío, no?''  They are not ignoring this reality we are all experiencing together, they are naming it.  And that's magical.

I think about Cirque du Soleil and how far it is from accomplishing this.  That's spectacle, that's corporate, mass production, it's form above all, it's professional perFORMance.  No room for presence, for spontaneity, for community.

And I'm thinking that it's a shame in fact, because Cirque du Soleil is such a global phenomenon.  There would be such an opportunity for them to let their clowns take on that sacred function: to name the realities we are experiencing together, globally.

I'll have to write an editorial about this one.

More acts, some incredibly original and mind-blowing, others much less.  After half-time (you'll never fully take the athlete out of me!), a few dance numbers.  I shed a few warm tears when I see that group of teenagers take on the stage.  There they are among a crowd of adults, courageous enough to share their passion and skills with us.  Good stage presence, impressive saltos, nice choreography.  The crowd is loving it.  How heart-warming.  

And the last act: woman-man acrobatic duo, with yet another superb story line, unseen moves, and strong technique. I've never seen such muscles on a woman before.  I've never seen a man stand with both feet on a woman's head!  Dang!

Little revolutions surrounding age and gender relations... That's what I'm talking about.

Flying hoboes...

And in my mind a torrent of ideas... I'm so full of them, these big visions so vivid yet so complex.  And if I can't perform all of them, I'm thinking, I could have other people make it happen.

My last couch surfing host studied arts management... that's sort of what he does.

Parc Güell (wish I could provide the soundtrack too).

Naming my name

This guy...

  Location: a chic hostel in the middle of Prague.  I've reserved my spot for three nights, for only 300 Czech crowns (10 Euros) per night.  I'm in the mixed-gender "dorm", but it looks more like a collective hotel room, with white fluffy beds and a full kitchen!  There's a group of Aussies in the next room.

I spent yesterday afternoon in a state of limbo.  On one hand, I was (and still am) digesting the reality of my departure from Berlin and of all the good people I left behind.  On the other hand, I felt overwhelmed by the complete inaccessibility of the language here... of being a tourist again.
I didn't quite feel lonely however.  Just, in limbo.

was all over Berlin...

This being said, I would like to revisit my recent past for a moment (I've obviously been having difficulties blogging in real time lately!) because I feel the need to reiterate... to remember: how I am fool of love.

For I felt it on Sunday evening: this almost unbearable amount of love, filling up my chest... this feeling that I could almost explode... so full of Love!
It's that feeling that's behind my name.  It's that phenomenon that brings me grace; whether it be around the table with my friends and family in Quebec, or in Dolores Park in San Francisco, or even... in Berlin?
Perhaps I can really do it.  Perhaps I can feel the connection even as I live this nomadic existence.
There's always that ambivalence of emotions: part mourning and part celebration.

and it just made me...

I could hardly believe my eyes on Sunday night.
It was HE's last show, and the room at Silver Future was full of these people who have hosted me in the past month and a half: Christian, my first Berlin host (and last, as I went full circle and spent the last couple of nights at his place), Jakob (he who brought me to the Dunckerstrasse house, and to contact improv class!), as well as Alyssa, who came all the way from Hamburg, and everybody at the Hermanstrasse house!!

What a beauty-full picture it was to see all these generous souls gathered in one room, along with friends from the Shake Circus: Sharon and Daniel and Asia, and Camille and Robert, and two of the Tentabulles women (lesbo-acro, as Harvey and I like to call it) ... even one of the girls from the dance project I did at Tachales! ...They had all come to see our ShameNoShame! and now they were mingling and connecting with one another.  And I felt so touched, so honored, so blessed... so fool of Love!

smile...
every single time!

AND, well it was Harvey and I's last show together... at least for a while.  Seven-or-so months, of working together, and there we were, having come soooo far!  There we were, the trans-national, genderstranged clown duo... playing on stage at one of the most queerlicious spots on the planet.    We did it!  We co-created this absurdist/extremely meaningful (contradiction? sure!) piece of clown theater.  We put in those countless hours of rehearsals, organization, and fundraising, and made our project soar all the way across the Atlantic!  What a team.  What an eccentric duo.  What a work ethic.  What a perfect dynamic for me to explore my aesthetics, my emotions, my limitations.  I am so thankful Harvey came into my life, I know our relationships is beyond those seven months, I know there is much more for us to share.
But for now, we had to part.  Or to put it more accurately: I had to part.  I had to set sail and see more of the world.
She is immigrating to Germany.  I need to journey on the boundary for now...
So I'm off, on my own.
And I take with me this bag of memories.. the laughter and the conversations...

Thank you friends.
Wherever you might be...

I hope to make my life, my joys and my wonder, like an offering and inspiration for ya'll...

Ritual, per-form-ance

I am writing from a different kitchen table today.  I left the room I had been renting for the past month, in Prenzlauerberg, where I was perhaps starting to get a bit too comfortable.  I am now staying at the outskirt of Berlin, in a flat with - once again- seven roommates.  I cannot get over how wonderful the Couch Surfing community can be.  I got here last night, and already I have had the most interesting conversations with my hosts.  But more about this later.





What is more urgent for me is this dance project I have joined.  I got an email from my ex-flatmate Jakob (the Butoh dancer) last week, calling for women dancers and performers.  I sent a CV and two photos of myself, and showed up for an "audition" at Tachales, on Thursday evening.
First, a few words about the famous Tachales.  Well in fact, let us ask the almighty (I am not saying this without a tone of irony, let me assure you)... wikipedia:

The Kunsthaus Tacheles (Art House Tacheles), is an art center in Berlin, a large (9000 square meter) building onOranienburger Straße in the district known as Mitte. Huge, colorful graffiti-style murals are painted on the exterior walls, and modern art sculptures are featured inside. The building houses an artists collective which is threatened with eviction.

Originally called "Friedrichsstadtpassagen", it was built as a department store in the Jewish quarter (Scheunenviertel) of Berlin, next to the synagogue.^[2] After serving as a Nazi prison for a short while, it was later partially demolished. After the Berlin Wall had come down, it was taken over by artists, who called it Tacheles, Yiddish for "straight talking."^[2] The building contained ateliers and workshops, a nightclub, and a cinema.

This is, to me, the most astonishing and fascinating thing about Berlin: there have been so many turns - within the last century only - in the constitution of the urban environment.  All over the city giant buildings have served a rotating bases for Jewish people, for Communists, for Nazis, and today, for Anarchists.  The evidence is everywhere.  Systems change.

Tachales is filled with graffiti.  It is also a bit filthy.  There are metal sculptures planted all over the back yard and inside the main part of the building, artists turn recycled materials into pieces of art while leaving the doors open for the general public - herds of tourists - to come observe the phenomenon.
There is something profoundly inspiring in this: Reclaiming (and opening up) spaces.


The audition was more like a deliciously-crafted workshop.  Our director, Paulina, is a choreographer and an "author of socio-cultural animation programs".  She is from Poland.  On the first day she introduced us to her friend and assistant, Mikki, who would be in the "more witchy"  aspect of the work...
Delight.
Soon we began to dance, twenty-or-so women coming from the seven corners of Europe.  I knew two of them; Iaro, a French Butoh Dancer who is staying now with Jakob and with whom I've had the pleasure to share in one delicious pasta dinner and precious conversations on the subjects of Butoh, life, and relationships.  The other woman I had encountered on the floor of Ecstatic Dance.  And that had been a silent communion, so I hadn't caught her name.  We both recognized each other with a big smile.
I wondered how many of these girls were "professional" dancers.  How many of them are in their early twenties.  How many of them have injuries.  What are their dreams?  What are their fears?

A sculpture in the yard, which
is a true museum.

After warming up we were split in different groups, according to... the look of our hair!  "We are going to work with some cliches" had explained Paula.
"Short hair" she said, and pointed to three of us to form a subgroup.  "Tall, long hair," was another group, along with "Blond hair", and "Dark hair." Funny how I have been so mindful of my hair recently.  Funny how I was placed in the "short hair" clan, but didn't quite feel it.
Anyway.  We each created a short choreography and were then asked to present it on stage.  Soon, we were also improvising solo bits, and groups intermingled to create, already then, a powerful series of moments and performance.
At the end of the session, Mikki gathered us around a circle of Tarot cards she had spread on the floor.  We stood shoulder to shoulder and closed our eyes.  We listened to the breath we shared, and the heart beating in each one of our chest.  We vocalized together in this sacred space, re-discovering how perfectly connected we fundamentally are.
Amen.


Then we each picked a card.  I thought about the many questions mine could potentially pertain to.  I couldn't quite structure a concrete sentence, but I thought I heard my heart say that it had to do with "art... and especially physical theater."  More specifically perhaps, It was about my future in relationship to those things.  For I cannot help it: what I worry about is the future.

Cold, industrial, bare dance-theater. 

I picked the Goddess Sige: "Take some quiet time alone to rest, meditate, and contemplate."
What?
I didn't want that answer.  I couldn't quite hear it.  I felt angry, et désemparée.  What is this supposed to mean?  I thought of my foot, because it is true that it still hurts me a lot.  It is true that perhaps I should not be dancing so much.  I should get some acupuncture, I should, I should, I should.
But I want to dance!  I thought I had finally found a way to express my most essential self.  I thought I had the perfect formula; being, after all, a former athlete with the soul of an artist.  Being after all, spirit in matter, having so much electricity to channel into form, through my body.
"Take some quiet time alone to rest."  Rest?  Why now?  How?  I swear I want to listen to the universe, but I just don't understand this one.  So I got home that night - on Thursday - and did a bit more research.  This is what I read on a blog I found:


 Shhh, dearest one. Quiet your mind. Breathe and let go of words, worry, and plans. Go into that space of silence deep within you, that vortex of peace where the world doesn't enter. Now is the time to retreat in silence and spend time alone. I'll lovingly help you rejuvenate and recenter yourself. Don't try to make any decisions now. Just allow your mind to be at rest. You'll know soon enough when it's time to take action. But for now, quiet your mind. Rest."


Well I do like that.  In fact, it sounds a lot like what I've already been doing on some level.  I have been observing myself wanting to make plans.  But I have also sat with it...


My foot hurts, but I truly madly deeply do want to be part of this project.  Twenty plus dancing witches creating a performance at Tachales over the span of four intense days?  No "workshop fees"?  Are you kidding me?!


I have come up with a "working hypothesis", as I meditate on the message of this card I picked.  (Perhaps this is mere "rationalization", or some form of cognitive dissonance; but it's the best I can handle right now.)  I like to believe that Sige is simply enjoining me to honor the part of me, which is Butoh.  She is offering me an opportunity to slow down while I do what I love.  There is no need to push my physical body beyond her current limitations.  There is no need to try and prove that I can dance.  I am a woman in a woman's body, my soul ready to overflow with love, wisdom and power.  This is Berlin, and it is Samhain season.  The Mayan calendar has ended for some, magic is upon and within us.  We are practicing the art of manifestation.  I am on a path to learn how to hold my energy, rather than mindlessly releasing and dispersing it.  I am on a path to become more conscious of my impulses and desires, and to be gentle with myself, and concentrate.
Con-centrate: "to centrate with".
:)

On a building near Tachales,
Oranienburger Tor

ShameNoShame: special edition!

Harvey have an "added scene" in tomorrow's show.  It is going to be quite unique, not in the sense of never-been-done-before, but in the sense of the impossibility of reiterating the scene again.  I don't know why I wouldn't tell you what is going to happen.  I kinda want to.  After all, I suppose that most of the people reading this blog (thank you so much!) are not going to be at the event, so why not break the silence now?

I am going to have my head shaved.  Not all of it, actually, because I do want to give my new dreadlocks a chance.  But I'm gonna loose a lot of hair, and its going to happen on stage.

Let me just say, first, that I am grateful for Harvey in my life.  Our relationship has been filled with a good amount of tensions and feelings recently, which makes sense if you take into account everything we are each individually dealing with.  She's a strong woman who's undertaking a great adventure: She's in the process of getting herself an artist visa, here, in Germany!  Such a goal is no easy process to achieve; I am so well able to understand her situation!  I have been there myself: Immigration kinda sucks!

I, for my part, am in the middle of my saturn return and in between two homes, hanging loosely in the middle of a gentle storm.  Thus I am also in a big transition.  It's not hard to understand how our professional relationship might be under a bit of stress.  In the work that we do together as clowns, we need to be able to trust each other deeply.  And with all the feelings involved on each side, sometimes the tension builds a little bit.

I actually appreciate the fact that my work involves feelings.  I have never been one to labor for a cause I do not support, and I come to realize that my main criteria has been "humanity", and just as being a nanny might not be a "real job", it meant the world to me because it was about love, and relationship, and deeply connecting with (an)other human beings.

But I digress. (What's new?!)

I was saying that I am about to have Harvey shave my head as part of our performance, on the night of my twenty-ninth birthday.

I was saying that I love Harvey, because I have found in her someone who's been mirroring a lot of great parts of myself… being a freak, being an artist, being queer and crazy, and being willing and able to work very hard and seriously to make the dream come true.  We have met and we have played and built this act together, and we have crossed the Atlantic ocean (acknowledged by both of us, however, was the fact that we were to be on our individual journey).

I love how we can communicate through all the steps we take together.  We go through life, and through art, needing each other for this act meanwhile each one committed to our own path.

I call that polyamory.

But I disgress again.

I have been thinking about shaving my head for some time.  In fact, I find hair to be something very... significative... and symbolic.  Hair is identity.  Sometimes it's individuality, or subculture, or nationality, often it's religious.  Throughout the ages, people have considered their hair to hold such symbolic value.  (Examples  here.)

So I've been thinking about this "urban pilgrimage" I am on.  As a clown, as a woman, as a citizen of the world… I am thinking about my role in society, and my place also.  I have been re-membered how much I love writing.  I have made a practice of it.

I have found it hard to "be a clown".  It's not that I don't think I'm a clown.  That is something so deeply philosophical and metaphysical in me; I do not doubt the overarching presence of the clown/trickster in my life.  

I'm just not sure what form it takes!

Thus the hair ritual, I guess.  That's what having [almost] all my hair shaved represents.  To me.

I have had other such rituals before.  First when I got my dreadlocks done at the Anarchist Conference, Vermont.  Later when I got them cut off.  That time, my friend Natalie had offered to make it an explicit ritual (!).  She had lit a candle, and we had talked about what it meant to cut my rastas… Since then, I have done a few more "conscious haircuts"- which basically means using the opportunity to speak about the change happening at the greater level in one's life, and then setting some intentions.

I just love the principle!

Now this time, I am doing it on stage.  I don't really know what that means, but I like the idea.  It's not something I was attached to - I would probably have shaven my head anyway… or would I have?  But I like the idea of a ritual performance.  I hope people like it.  Of course, it will be up to Harvey to read the audience and go as long with it as keeps them involved.  We'll see what happens!  But I know, that the way it is incorporated in the show,  (and for those who have seen it and know our characters, you can picture this better, should create a nice effect!

I also like the fact that it perfectly matches the unfolding of our show.  My hair is my power.  When she cuts my hair, she gets a piece of it for herself.  In the end, her character still has her resolution, and I, have been her sounding board for the journey.

I love it.