A Bit of a Rant

In the new studio...

There is so much space for fear, it can be filled so easily, I am overwhelmed with my own emotion, and nothing feels better until I choose for it to be so. It is in my hands, after all. So, it is with much self-conceit and undefinable pain and sadness that I now come to the keyboard, caffeinated and almost troubled – by a good mood. I want to be honest and am still learning how. I’m juggling questions, complaints, and feelings of many depths and shades. The world is so beautiful, an ache inside of a teardrop. Surrounding individuals intimidate, inspire, confuse, and entrance me. The noise of the street, the hopping bird with a broken wing outside my gate, the mystery of what is really happening, the freshness of watering my plants, the sweet soundtrack of a voice in song lilting from the woofer – floating over to me from the room that is to be my dance studio. For you see, I sit now in the home which my love and I have procured for ourselves. We have already blessed it with loud arguments. I have already apologized to its lovely ancient brick walls. And it has forgiven me, since it knows that it’s my dream-land. This so-far quite empty space has leant itself to my whims, but not quite yet materialized into any of them. Hard work lies ahead, and has already commenced. My dear Mikie has been tireless in building our lofted bed and benches for art-class and audience seating, as well as trucking over furniture and large houseplants, all the while working a hundred hours a week. I treasure his charisma. He is my Bear.

Holding the heart’s most desired

is the promise of dissolution and wonder

an ancient question

upon realizing

that you’ve got what you wanted,

and where do you go from here?

Or perhaps it’s just the waking up with oneself, one’s thoughts and sensations still residing in another realm of consciousness, pulling the realities to and fro like melting cheese spilling over the edge of a piece of bread. And one rises from the bed, still in stupor but ready somehow for a whole other day, a whole new day of being in the world, in the endless flow, the ceaseless wheeling, the whispering grind of eternal being-ness, never knowing why it even has to be. One stumbles to the toilet, one exhales. Thoughts begin to flow in from the day that already is. There is no moment for reflection, everything just keeps stirring.

Again, apologies. No need for such complaining. Gosh, I can characterize my twenties as the age of self-doubt, depressive can’t-do attitudes, and tremendously horrific self-sabotage. How dare I? What can I do to finally make it stop? Nothing changes overnight? I’ve already improved so much? At least I’m here in this country and not insane and alone somewhere halfway across the planet? Yes, yes, yes. But still. I need to toughen up. Strategize. Follow my heart. As I’ve been doing. And still. Much much work needs doing.