YERGERRRRR

I wonder why this woman might be dealing with low back pain.

I had a VERY good yoga class this morning. Even though I slept poorly and was emotionally exhausted (I almost didn't go, hahahahah) I felt grounded and strong and like my old self. Everything felt so real and good. My favorite part was the visitation by the ghosts of Dell'Arte Past. Laura's voice in my ear to relax my tongue, the place between my eyebrows, to feel the weight of my organs. Her freedom to breathe (Laura is from Spain, she is also VERY hot, and during yoga makes noises that would make a porn star blush. Fuck it, man, if you're gonna breathe, BREATHE). Joe's incessant 'don't be tired' and 'see how little effort you can use to achieve this' and 'cultivate the qualities you see and enjoy'. Oh and my favorite:"Fuck yeah! That's the shit, isn't it?!" The back of Donlin's hand laying in to soften my palm, his attention to extension and line. How lucky I am that these ghosts visit me.
     It's a well known fact that it's hard to let go of D'A place when you leave it. You form this incredible bond with your ensemble (even the ones you hate) and the teachers who I respect more than any other humans on the planet. And then like a sacred lover they're gone, and they have a new pile of students and you're just one of a thousand alumni and your heart breaks a little. Even if you find yourself in the physical place, the jokes have changed and it's not what belongs. Not what changed you. You're a part of what changes others now. So for the ghosts to visit touches the lonely places in my heart and  fills me with gratitude. And How important gratitude is on the path to happiness. How forgivable I become to myself, if only for a short time. Once again home on the levee.

I don't have to beg the feeling to stay. Only to remind me how to find it again.

Point of interest, a circuit closed:
http://laviolette-laviolette.blogspot.com/2010/04/yoga.html

Again, nearly to the day.

Namaste.

Kiss Me Like A Stranger

I just read Gene Wilder's book Kiss Me Like A Stranger: My Search For Love and Art.

Like I JUST read it. All. In one sitting. I ate it like cake. I want love and art too. Too much.

It's an excellent book, conversational, blunt, open. He talks about Gilda, though not how I expected.

I shouldn't have read it so fast. I need a place to put my brain to keep it from chewing its wounds like a dog.

Witchcraft and Folk Music

Quite out of ideas, I wrote the things I needed to let go of on a white sheet of paper and lit that shit on goddamned fire.

Vulnerability

Wow. I came back to blog in my blog only to find my last post was a year ago TO THE DAY. I was about to barrel into Clown Block.

Oh to hop in my TARDIS and return to that day.

The year that has followed it has contained the highest professional highs and the lowest personal lows of my life. I lied. I cheated. I probably stole. I let the shame of it tear me completely apart. But as my therapist (and pinterest) have said, rock bottom is a good place from which to build your new life. And hey, I didn't end up dead or in jail, so, you know. Hope.

So now I'm creating my first original piece of theatre. I'm of course terrified it'll be exactly the sort of thing I hate seeing at fringe festivals (I HAVE FEELINGS AND I'M GOING TO FEEL THEM AT YOU) but I'm tired of letting that fear stop me trying. I'm trying to learn how to let myself exist in the world. Oh wait - everyone should watch this.


This is my study now. Which means writing more here (even though I'm super crazy insecure!). It means creating work (see above! Aah!) It means being a better friend and a whole hearted person.