:: in transit ::

and transitioning from one thing to the next.

today is my first official day of many things:

  • official meeting for the Dalí Project with my Cosmic Twin. possibly meeting Dalí himself
  • official meeting with my Japanese teacher (well, one of them anyway). and an inspiration for a possible Japanese-Dalí combo meeting
  • first day after being back to work at Santos Party House. negotiating my work-nightlife with my work-day life
  • first day going to the park since i’ve been back to NYC
  • first day feeling like EWDIR (Everything We Do is Right.) just kidding! i feel that way every day.

and so i get to thinking about transitions and starting new things. re-starting old things. and how to focus on one thing fully when there are so many things to focus on.

this problem, as psychologist Barry Shwartz has articulated, is reminiscent of The Paradox of Choice. when we have too many options, we don’t know how to choose. we believe that greater choice leads to greater freedom, but infinite freedom is paralyzing (which is kind of the opposite of complete freedom). however, when we have too few choices, we don’t have freedom of choice either because then there are not enough options.

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coming back to New York is difficult. i have been here a day and a half and already, i am overwhelmed with meetings, work, emails, rehearsals, and more. it comes down to this obsession with time. how can i find enough time in the day to do all these things and do yoga, Suzuki, clean my apartment, learn Japanese, read, fix my broken shower, play the ukulele, and take care of my cats and all of the others in my life: my “otters”? i start to hate New York City because she is not like Bali or my parents’ house or anywhere else.

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:: On Escapism ::

it is one thing to go to another place because it is calling to you. it is another to go to a place because you don’t want to be in the one that you are currently in.

i know because i have tried to do it.

i tried to go to Berlin. i tried to make that happen. and i got thwarted. (most notably by my self.)

my proposal wasn’t truly honest. it was in the sense that i was saying that art here is over and i want to go to the place where it is present and to figure out why. but my proposal was unclear because i wasn’t being truthful with my self about what i was running away from here. and staying here (being here then, being there now), i now know the difference between escaping and following. seeking vs. finding. making things happen vs. allowing them to. running from one’s self vs. facing our true selves.

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“Be Here Now.”

i remember these words taped onto the wall behind composer Gerald Busby’s head as we interviewed him for This is My Home: Voices from the Chelsea Hotel.

as he immediately won me and the rest of the gang over with his charm, presence, and the inner light that he exudes with every word and every breath that he makes, i have often come back to that mantra that he holds in his sight on a day-to-day basis.

and so hearing it again on this day, i stayed at my parents’ house even though i was supposed to leave earlier with my sister, Alicia. because, well, i am here now. i was torn about going back to NYC—i have so many obligations to take care of, things to do, people to meet with, and cats to take care of (namely my own). but i mistakenly have someone watching them through today because i was confused as to when i was returning. (i have to wonder, is there any such thing as a mistake? then i remember that Everything We Do is Right.)

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:: A Family Collaboration ::

i have been thinking a lot lately about co-existence. this summer has brought a lot of odd changes to my life and apartment. once a solitary yoga haven where i could write, eat, and create in a void, it is now going to be occupied by a series of other bodies and voices. Toshi will come and live for a time, as will my European artist friends, Zdenka (with her creative partner) and Lorenzo. after three years of living alone (and loving it), this is a big change to my now-quiet lifestyle.

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:: Fear Continues to Rage On ::

so i did it again. i freaked out because i am afraid of things that aren’t going to hurt me.

last night, i resolved to shower in the outside shower. our inside one is right next to my parents’ room and my mom goes to bed early. so it was a practical decision, but i also decided to overcome the fear of our backyard at night, which has plagued me for as long as i can remember.

i mean, it’s fenced in for chrissakes, and i have a new philoSophie about co-existence with bugs. so i am going to shower out there dammit. this is what i thought, and anyway, the air con inside was making me feel cold and artificial. i am not going to become disembodied by my own fear.

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:: Yoga/Suzuki Revelations ::

we don’t have to be straight all the time!

when i try to “be straight,” i find myself locking into a position rather than fluidly remaining upright.

the key is to release into whatever pose or position i find myself in—straight, crooked, warped and everything in between. because when i think about holding myself straight, that’s exactly what i do: i hold. i hold tension, i hold my breath, and i hold myself in a position that is either not straight at all or else it quickly devolves from straightness because it is not fluid with the movement of my breath.

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this morning i did yoga outside in the 90 degree heat, bugs swirling all around, sweat profusely dripping off my body…

it was glorious. i practiced for so long, zoning in on my breath, on my center, and moving so slowly that i could gauge where either of them were at most given times. i began to imagine what it would be like doing Suzuki in Toga, based off Tina Mitchell’s description the other night while we were training. the heat, the bugs, the bright and blinding stage lights, having only what one needs to survive. i have never been more ready for something that challenges me so fiercely. i felt a light emanating out from my center and reaching around the world—a battle cry of release into the unknown.

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::: On the Way Home :::

the New Jersey Parkway is so green that i almost feel like i am on my way to some warped version of Bali. maybe i am, in a way, if i am traveling to another place that feels like home…

i used to have this weird conflict of language usage that would happen whenever i would go and visit my parents. i would say, “i’m going home.” i don’t know that i will ever stop calling it home even though i don’t live there anymore. i grew up there from birth until i left to attend college. it was a happy home—a place that allowed me to grow into the being that i am today. but when i would tell my sister (or others) that i was “going home,” they would be unclear if i meant home to my parents’ house or home to my NYC apartment.

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Toshi and i have been friends for 7 years now. we met in Voice & Speech class when i first started acting school at HB Studio and he just moved to the U.S. from Japan. we were friends at first sight even though we never officially hung out that much outside of class. but i believe that we shared a connection and mutual respect for each other’s talents and spirits, and despite wanting to work together, the chance never came up.

we kept in touch super loosely over the years. you know, via Facebook, or seeing each other at shows that we or our mutual friends were in. that was, until about a year and a half ago when he insisted that I audition for the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.

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