VISIBLE INVISIBLE
March 31/2020
you are visible, vulnerable, victorious
I am
we are
you are invisible, indefinable, infinite
I am
we are
As Covid-19 gathers itself into a massive change-wave, those pushed to the margins and in need of support will be those most likely to go without and drown.
Fact. One that shines an uncomfortable - excruciating - light on human society. Almost all of us are taking the measure of our lives in the shadow of this towering wave.
May we stay conscious in the aftermath. Alerted, as we have been, to reality, to priority, and to our power to sustain and create.
From visible and invisible sources and lineages. From who we really are.
"Turn your suffering into art, your art into awareness, and your awareness into action." Okay, Gabrielle.
In the dance as in life, chosen vulnerability is strength, not weakness, and it is a well of clear and positive power.
When we show up, vulnerable and intact, we taste victory as practice, as breath by breath-ness, as the power to appreciate being alive, dancing and honest.
In the dance as in life, there is also more, so much more, going on, unseen yet present, never-exactly-named, moving us as we could never plan to move...
March 31/2020
you are visible, vulnerable, victorious
I am
we are
you are invisible, indefinable, infinite
I am
we are
As Covid-19 gathers itself into a massive change-wave, those pushed to the margins and in need of support will be those most likely to go without and drown.
Fact. One that shines an uncomfortable - excruciating - light on human society. Almost all of us are taking the measure of our lives in the shadow of this towering wave.
May we stay conscious in the aftermath. Alerted, as we have been, to reality, to priority, and to our power to sustain and create.
From visible and invisible sources and lineages. From who we really are.
"Turn your suffering into art, your art into awareness, and your awareness into action." Okay, Gabrielle.
In the dance as in life, chosen vulnerability is strength, not weakness, and it is a well of clear and positive power.
When we show up, vulnerable and intact, we taste victory as practice, as breath by breath-ness, as the power to appreciate being alive, dancing and honest.
In the dance as in life, there is also more, so much more, going on, unseen yet present, never-exactly-named, moving us as we could never plan to move...
A PLAGUED JOURNEY Maya Angelou, 1983 There is no warning rattle at the door nor heavy feet to stomp the foyer boards. Safe in the dark prison, I know that light slides over the fingered work of a toothless woman in Pakistan. Happy prints of an invisible time are illumined. My mouth agape rejects the solid air and lungs hold. The invader takes direction and seeps through the plaster walls. It is at my chamber, entering the keyhole, pushing through the padding of the door. I cannot scream. A bone of fear clogs my throat. It is upon me. It is sunrise, with Hope its arrogant rider. My mind, formerly quiescent in its snug encasement, is strained to look upon their rapturous visages, to let them enter even into me. I am forced outside myself to mount the light and ride joined with Hope. Through all the bright hours I cling to expectation, until darkness comes to reclaim me as its own. Hope fades, day is gone into its irredeemable place and I am thrown back into the familiar bonds of disconsolation. Gloom crawls around lapping lasciviously between my toes, at my ankles, and it sucks the strands of my hair. It forgives my heady fling with Hope. I am joined again into its greedy arms. |
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