Breathless

This heat takes my breath away.

Feeding my soul in springtime

Day by day, hour by hour, act by act, slowly, slowly I work to build meaning into my existence, to draw open ever wider the dark, heavy, velvety curtains to reveal the why the how and the universe and the way to move through it without setting fire to it or collapsing under the weight of its skyscrapers and cathedrals. I am both alone and never alone. The hour is mine to fill as I please, I am the designer of my days, as a single woman of the 21st century in the free world, I am rich in the currency of time, which is directly correlated with greater uncertainty of futures, which is unnerving because in the end there are two certainties which we cannot bend: the linear unidirectional nature of time as we experience it, and the endpoint of that line. Therefore these bricks laid and decisions made or not yet made to what end? A house, a mansion? A labyrinthian city whose roads run off the grid? A house-like structure glued to a paper plate covered haphazardly with candies and left to gather dust for a decade, or two? An unfinished pile of rocks? A stonehenge, a Venus? Who will love these attempts at building? Hungrily yet methodically without knowing what for, I forage through spring trees and painted deserts, through the words, stories, equations and formulas discovered by others, through the workings of my own skeletomusculature, through the innocence of babies to sustain myself. I am often hungry but have high hopes of finding a rhythm of feeding. A regularity in my days.

A Dancer's Confession

I am so grateful for gravity and the Newtonian forces which, in a decadent exchange between Earth and I (the ultimate dance partnership), can ripple through my body, and send it bounding, teetering, flying, flowing. I am grateful for the inextricably entwined relationship between body and mind that binds me- us- to the Earth no matter how far we attempt to distance ourselves from our origin and being with our philosophies and religions. I am not separate from my container. It defines me, without it, I am not me, I am something else altogether, not just water turned from liquid to a gaseous state. It is a treasure, a source of pain and frustration often, a source of ecstacy at times. Ultimately, a tragedy. Once my spirit has gone from my body, I know that I will never exist as I know myself to exist in this unique form, ever again. The body will be an empty thing, not just a lifeless me, and the spirit, like a flame will have extinguished without the body to keep it burning bright. My dual form stamps my existence with a pronounced finiteness. It is both an emprisonment and a conduit to freedom and flight, a conduit for communing with forces beyond the typical senses and most magical of all-with the wonder of music. The music drives the body, the body communicates the music, the result is a momentary liberation of the mind. I cannot explain.