Fear, Contact, Diving, Dancing

I write this today as I sit down in a shady spot and listen to some rock n roll and relax some until I go to a class today for something I feel drawn to, and barely understand why.

I have chosen to learn contact improv dance. Here is a link to a great informative site with a great deal of information about the fairly young dance style. It is actually younger than I am, but more and more seems to be that way everyday. LOL.  http://www.contactquarterly.com/contact-improvisation/about/cq_ciAbout.php
This is a good instructive video for beginners. 

I ponder the topic and I begin to shed light on what I seek by going. I want to continue to learn more about trusting people. Larger circles. Spiraling outward. I wanna make as much of the universe aware of the beauty of life. That's why I write. It reminds me. I guess it's nice to get positive reinforcement from my work.

I am realizing that dancing can be a form of therapy. One we all can use. In higher doses. More love, less fear, more growth, less regression. Our daily claim on existence , expressed in such beautiful form. What is there to be afraid of?

It is also intimate on a certain level to touch and share the forces of gravity in the way required for contact improv dance.

I have the benefit of a lifetime(4.3) decades or so, of athletics and some dancing ability so I am not going in blindly. I certainly am no health purist. I lead a healthy lifestyle bit could change some things to be healthier. The point is, I am a novice.

This endeavor, a new one, gives me a chance to learn about myself and others at the same time. I prefer it that way to solitary time. I will write no more now, pre class.  The next paragraph will be post class. Look for changes. I will be.

The first thing that came to mind as I stretched on the hardwood floor of the studio was how the huge open windows looked east over the city to the distant peaks of the Cascades. I felt safe, and was awash with the images, and memories, of countless hours, alone,. at peace amongst the Douglas Firs, and sword ferns of the foothills. I also noticed the absence of music. WTH? This was dancing. No music?

I watched a couple of people roll and writhe, and lift each other off the floor, and decided to rolol near them. In a matter of minutes I was transformed. I touched and rolled and writhed, and lifted, and was lifted.
The trust I was seeking came without effort, and the reward was infinite, and timeless.

I felt like I had gotten a great massage, gotten rid of a great deal of negative energy I had been storing.  I realized how important having my mind, soul, and body, aligned both internally, and outwardly are to happiness. All for a low donation. LOL.

If anyone has a curiosity about the dance style, I hope this answered a few questions. Now follow the advice of the Grateful Dead. "TURN ON YOUR LOVE LIGHT, AND LEAVE IT ON!"

BUGZ, AND THUGZ, AND LADYBUGZ

Riverbank Sunday in Colorado
The neatest effect a silvery liquid shadow

River rolls by and people run
I sit here thinking and having fun

See some herons dancing in the sky
I like babies and I know why

Time stands still on the riverbank
Kill the rumor mill on the goodness bank

Goodness and love from below and above

Goodness and love from below and above

The whole wide world on the back of a dove
The love from above fits like a glove

Envelop yourself in some warm fine hugs
sit by the river with the ladybugs

Bums and Thugs, and those that use drugs
they all agree to love ladybugs

Goodness and love from below and above
Goodness and love from below and above

Time to share it, I can't spare it

The Last Book

The train named elevation is leaving the station

so give me your fixation, I'll manifest a revelation

A little inspiration, creates a conversation

locomotive beat center situation


The thought so  sharp, a minor laceration

the pain feels good, so I give it adulation


When negativity finds you, resist escalation.

If you want to run fast, control acceleration

brakes get real warm , glowing red,

it's only dissipation....

of the heat we create, when we recreate creation


The healing we share is my favorite radiation

so perfect requires minor calibration.

When we are done, I have the cutest abrasions

What my Irish Mind Sees

Here it is, another St. Patrick's Day, another lovely Irish holiday
I was raised Irish Catholic, I came up that way.
Love of song, work, and the land,
the type of work that's hard, that you do with your hands.

The warriors from pagan times, the limericks with their dirty rhymes.
Being Irish suits me just fine. I actually prefer beer to wine.

My Father loved to hunt, and work and fish
I wish I knew for what he wished
He never wanted to tell me, when we fished

Shape shifting myths about warriors of old
Fine Celtic stories, to my own children I've told.

Green is a color, that suits my eye,
Orange, is a mood, I like in my eye
The white of unity, is for us to try.
To achieve more unity, every day
To love each other, THE ONLY RIGHT WAY!

Tears and Muscle ..AKA ..Love

Our lives should be written in the stars.
We wear ink just like bumper stickers, on our cars.
We build prisons in our mind, 
and put ourselves behind the bars

Through tears and muscle, we become free.
These try to add from one, and create one or two or three.
Our minds are as complex as computer chips
Most people we meet, only brief, brief blips.

Once in a great while, sub atomic particles collide
And infinitely multiply the potential energy they hold inside.
Finding the match , the electron that fits
Is a worthwhile task, when you're ready for it. "

Part of growing things is planting seeds,
thinning weeds, and providing for needs.

Love has needs , on trust it feeds. 
The deeper the trust. The more the love breeds.

Love has a speed set to cruise
Accelerate ? You're bound to lose
you will lose the love you seek
you'll THINK you're strong,
but KNOW you're weak

I have decided to live to deny suicide
Not that I ever really tried, sure I cried
 yet I Always held a dream inside

The sun is too bright, the world to right,
For me to ever give up the fight.

When I sought love, I rejected false might
See, love has a might, in it's own right.
At least I've gained the gift of sight.
Love comes at a pace, a pace of it's own
Best not change the pace or off you're thrown.

The Trio

Hello people,
so glad you came in from the cold
I've got a little tale to tell,
a story that must be told.

It involves three little boys, a lady, and a man.
They were called a family, they lived in a sardine can.

The bones they can be eaten, they crumble with a crunch.
There were funny times, here among this bunch

There was another figure, usually within the house
This pet wasn't a housecat, nor a cute little mouse.
The grim reaper, himself, lived here in this house.
He hid behind tables, he hid behind chairs,
he often changes colors, he often avoids stares

The dirty plates stacked up all over the table.
The man got up, and went to bed, unless being drunk, left him unable
The kids, well they just spun, out of control.
Left with short answers, to fill the hole in their soul

I guess if that was all, that the kids had had to bear,
that might have been okay, they might have thrived while there
But there was this other side, that often liked to hide

 Hatred, violence, and anger, The Trio often came inside.
They felt right at home there, among the darkness and the dirt.
There seemed to be no limit, on just how much they hurt.

The children learned to use their hands, for more than to create
They learned to curl fingers to fists, and a lesson had been missed.
For hands can create pain, they do it every day
They always go the same place, when you do it that way.

The kids were not killers, even though they had held guns.
They kids had to settle problems, like they do when having fun
It was ok to hit each other, for boys settle things this way.
There should have been a different thing, taught to them that day.
I don't think you should blame their father, he ONLY knew that way.

Over time, the Trio grew warmer, even welcoming
The people had no fucking idea, of what they were becoming

The blood it tasted vile, and yet it made them smile
You just sort of let it fester, over a little while

At least you venture outside, the sun does truly shine
You ripen, and gain color,
like a grape, along a vine.

One day you find you're free from all of this.
Anger becomes empty, hatred becomes a lie.
You end up confused, and to learn, and to learn?
Well you must try.