Dancing with everyone else

It occurs to me where my dream this morning might have come from. In the dream, I found myself in the midst of a group of people on a stage following steps that I'd had some practice with but not to the point where my body would just do the movements without my thinking about it. I was following the leader (an artist friend of mine, an older woman, who I haven't seen in years) as she led the routine that was like tai chi only a bit faster. I messed up a little bit and laughed, but it seemed to be okay and accepted. I felt physically and emotionally very good, very centered and in flow.

Earlier last night, I was reading John Daido Loori's The Zen of Creativity: Cultivating Your Artistic Life. I'm just starting the first chapter. It will need to be read slowly and savored. In the book, Loori talks about going to a workshop to study photography with Minor White. The first day they're led outside at four in the morning where they're led by a modern dancer in a series of exercises. Loori writes of being angry that he'd paid good money to study photography with White and instead he was outside "undulating in the dark." He quits and starts packing up when some of the other students come in and convince him to stay:

    As the days unfolded I woke up before dawn, meditated, and danced with everyone else. We attended lectures and did various exercises. We didn't even touch our cameras for the first day or two. Then Minor began to challenge us with different questions that dealt with our way of seeing ourselves and the universe, questions that needed to be resolved visually.

    One of the assignments was a turning point for me. On day four of the workshop, Minor told us to photograph our essence. "Don't photograph your personality," he explained. "Try to go deep into the core of your being. Photograph who you really are."

    Who am I really?...

1:36:42 PM      trackback [] 

When I was a fall pond

Pond off Merriam Rd. in Grafton MA, Sept. 22.

12:20:19 PM      trackback [] 

Sleep and escape into the masses

Instead of posting, I’ve been enjoying reading interesting posts and discussions elsewhere. But I haven’t had much to say here. I wasn’t sleeping well and in my fatigue I was having trouble looking at my life with any hope for the future. I had an overwhelming desire to escape, to travel somewhere and get a change of perspective. Since my anticipated trip to Mexico won’t be for another six months, I was ready to hop in my car and just drive somewhere. Or, if I could pull the reins in just a bit, plan a weekend trip somewhere within driving distance. I could see myself sitting with my notebook in a café somewhere bustling with strangers. I do want to contemplate things, to settle myself down and write – but far from my familiar surroundings with all the familiar associations.

I’m still thinking about it. One thing I will do this weekend is go down to Rhode Island to the East Bay Bike Path, which I’ve been meaning to do. I would have gone today, but I switched it to tomorrow so that I can have a bite to eat later on with my friend Carol, who lives down there. The fact that it occurred to me to hook up with Carol I took as a sign I was feeling better – I actually wanted to be sociable again. I did go out Thursday night to see Hedwig and the Angry Inch in Cambridge. My friend T’s son was in the on-stage band, so she rounded up a few friends to go see it – and it was very good. I only had a little time before and after to chat.

Yesterday I went shopping. I needed new shoes, and I had some gift checks my parents gave me for my birthday. So I found shoes and a few other things (!) and then went to Whole Foods on the way back, where I had lunch from the salad bar and prepared foods counter. It was bustling and if I’d had my notebook I guess I could have written right there. I didn’t, but I think the experience of being out mixing into a bit of humanity was helpful. Working at home, writing, can throw you too much into yourself sometimes. That may be one of the reasons behind my travel cravings.

And last night I took some B6 before bed, which T recommended to me – 50-100mg helps you sleep, she said, any more than that keeps you awake. I picked some up at Whole Food and took it last night. First time I’ve slept straight through the night in weeks. I slept 9 hours. (I dreamed I was within a large group of dancers on a stage and we were all doing tai chi-like movements, although somewhat faster.) Sleep is good. My future’s looking better already.

---

Another view, from Verse Daily, a poem by Wesley McNair:

Sleep

The young dog would like to know
why we sit so long in one place
intent on a box that makes the same
noises and has no smell whatever.
Get out! Get out! we tell him
when he asks us by licking the back
of our hand, which has small hairs,
almost like his. Other times he finds us
motionless with papers in our lap,
or at a desk looking into a humming
square of light. Soon the dog understands
we are not looking, exactly, but sleeping
with our eyes open, then goes to sleep
himself. Is it us he cries out to,
moving his legs somewhere beyond
the rooms where we spend our lives?
We don't think to ask, upset
as we are in the end with the dog,
who has begun throwing the old,
shabby coat of himself down on every
floor or rug in the apartment, sleep,
we say, all that damn dog does is sleep.

Copyright © 2002 Wesley McNair All rights reserved
from Fire

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