Shell Shock

The first of our number left us today, without a goodbye. This wasn't the work for him. It's part of their job here to make us vulnerable - open, and that's something different for everyone. Ronlin, the clown teacher brought our youngest member to the breaking point on monday - actually physically challenging him, It came to a fist fight - Ronlin slapping his face and challenging him to strike back. The Kid, afraid, played at fighting, afraid to truly strike the teacher. It came to blows, The Kid finally in his fear and rage striking Ronlin with a closed fist. Yes. They held the tension, then Ronlin shook his hand, they hugged. Everything now is about thresholds. Everyday, every moment there is a new one. People are breaking right and left.

Tonight was our last class with Donlin, and we were sad to see him go. He gave us so much in such a short time. Such beauty. Such power. Such demand. The class was divided - those brought to their knees, and those watching the clock dying to be released.

Donlin spoke of the work here as the last magic. the last art that can't be learned from a book or the internet, and the most powerful. He was right, and I cried.

As he moved about the class, demonstrating recieving an action in the chest without retreating, I watched what happened with the other students and knew I could do it. I wanted him to come to me so I could show him I understood, to receive his action. He came to me and touched my chest. I couldn't move. Frustrated, I only cried. I couldn't make it happen. I haven't found my starting point. I'm still trying too hard to please, to be correct.

I wish I could show you Donlin. Everything he does is beautiful. Not because he imbues it with beauty, but because it is simple, pure, authentic, and clear in intention.

I tried to tell him thank you, but of course, one can't.