~ Yoda, Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back ~
three days ago would have signaled my 12th anniversary of moving to NYC. today i found this draft from September 16th, 2012 (written just a month shy of my 9th anniversary of moving to NYC). in a month, i will be back in NYC, briefly, after having expanded out into the world and living in all kinds of places and spaces.
in celebration of all these anniversaries, of a great love and struggle with numbers and time, and of breaking down the very notion of time itself, herein contains the post. it comes from the future, about the past, and, i don’t know about you, but somehow all this time travel puts me right here in the present.
i am running not quite as early as i want again today. but at least i did a pretty thorough vocal warm-up beforehand. maybe it is something about the Robot Immigrants coming to the Armory today and meeting with them after, but my warm-up was similar to the ones we do in our process. usually i do yoga because my body tweaks out a little sitting on that stool in one position for so long, but yoga hasn’t quite been solving that in its entirety. although i am building my core back up so that i can sustain the position (and minimize the pain and damage to my body), i realized from the last Event that i needed to work out my articulators a little more to maintain the extended verbal space that i am filling. so my warm-up today actually became a combination of both physical stretching and releasing, and voice warming and exercising.
today was my very first shift at the Armory. amidst the chaos of my final week of the Fall semester in grad school, the holiday hubbub, subway delays, and too little time for the important things, i trekked my way up to the Upper East Side to read to the pigeons.
i could not be more grateful. upon arrival, i am filled with a sense of calm and expansiveness. there aren’t too many people in the Drill Hall. i see the familiar little heads of J.Ed and Deborah Black emerging from their intricate sheep’s wool cloaks. it is quiet and mellow. some people are laying on the floor beneath the curtain. others are slowly swinging in what seems like quiet contemplation. i want to join them, but i head back to the green room instead. it’s nice back there too. because we are instructed to show up 20 – 30 minutes before our shifts, i have time to stretch to make up for the yoga that i didn’t have time for in the morning. prior to this, i had a Kanji quiz and a taped in-class Japanese presentation. learning a new and complex language is difficult; communication in any language takes a great deal of energy in order to articulate oneself well.
fitting, somehow, that my last blog post was a repost. i remember actually writing one sometime after and we shall see if i can ever time travel back and squeeze it in.
but maybe it’s happily lost and i don’t need to…
needs. i have been thinking about needs a lot over the past year or so. what do i actually need in any given moment? how does that change in the next one? and how is what i need different from what i want?
one of my very first theater collaborators, Davi Cohen, introduced me to this way of approaching my life and artmaking process. Davi and i became collaborators with a desire to make work together, so we started training in the shared language of Suzuki and Viewpoints. as we evolved, we danced together, made work in unconventional ways, traveled across the country, presented in our home city, went on residency, made movies, ate food together, shared our personal triumphs and challenges, and broached the question:
:: the process that i go through writing this blog ::
DMunk and i affectionately joke about my never-ending ability to be “meta” about everything. (and you better believe that when i found out that WordPress has a Tag Cloud above a section called Meta, i revel in staring at this cloud and seeing what shapes emerge.)
but i haven’t really gone very deep with the process of writing this blog. maybe because it is inherently about process that it seems redundant to do so. but then i hear these little words repeat themselves and i realize that i channel these words often when creating new work. in Saratoga, Anne Bogart told us that when she directs SITI Company, a common thing she says when something is cooking is, “could be more.” to me, this means: it’s good. keep it. and where else can itgo?
i arrived at Villa Gitana and almost immediately proceeded to do yoga. i haven’t done yoga (at least not in the traditional sense and certainly not as my normal daily practice) since i got to Southeast Asia…
my body was in pain from all the traveling, all the surfing and moto biking, from both running around and laying around, and everything in between without much attention being placed on conscious stretching and breathing.
it was really difficult at first. i felt so off balance. my recurring pain on the left side of my neck and back was throbbing. and my new wrist pain in my right wrist (from surfing? from moto? from typing?) was crying out.
it has dawned on me in the most glorious moments of waking: i will get my own surfboard for the first time. i am learning to glide out on my own.
this is easy to understand when i have all time to contemplate its meaning.
i used to be so attached to time. being on time, not having enough time, having a good time. now i can just be time.
does that sound weird? the more that i believe that i have all the time in the universe to do what i need to do, the more i can let go of the insistence that any one thing has a particular time in which it needs to be done. the more i let go of the idea of a standardized time stamp on the nature of things, the more i allow each one to develop in exactly the time it needs.