My State of Mind

I just got off Skype with my “family”… my ZiRu family. They are reunioning in San Francisco and I was Skyped into rehearsal to watch the final duets they’d created. It was many “generations” of my family – people from the first seasons dancing alongside people new to the group last season, spirits mixing… a common energy shared. The group has scattered since we last danced together… Miche to China, Chitty to China and Colorado, Madelyn to Hawaii, Charlie to Texas and LA, Kiki to other companies in the Bay, Baba to LINES, Alysia to Taiwan, Philein had a second baby boy, and I’m in Massachusetts! Whew! We stay connected because of this openness – to new, to travel, to change. I saw it in their hearts as they moved. Older. More grounded. Fibers synthesizing new experiences, funneling them into acute statements of choreography to share with each other. This shared desire to communicate, to love, to think. It’s what keeps us together no matter how far apart we’ve become.

Prior to the week, Philein asked everyone to write something about “our states of mind.” We shared what we’d written via email, to begin the dialogue and get us thinking along the same lines for rehearsal. I – obviously – couldn’t attend this reunion but wrote in, nonetheless. I feel homesick for this wonderful group of souls and, so, I’ll share:

“My State of Mind”

I exist in suspended animation, somewhere between loving and hating every minute of it. Fitz and I moved to Massachusetts last November to begin construction of an art gallery and coffee/juice bar in an old carriage house in the heart of a small liberal arts college town. The idea is quaint. The execution is not. It’s hard – it’s dirty – it’s scary. It’s not glamorous, nor does it offer much in the way of short term gratification. It costs a lot of money. And I exist within a constant state of unknown, my only constant being this “unknown.” It’s a curious, self-imposed existence that shakes up my understanding of many truths I’d overlaid on my life. I am learning every day. Growing. Having fun. Being incredibly independent and self-reliant. Synthesizing this new reality into my concept of “Me.”

I feel on hold though. Time plays tricks, feverishly insisting on taking center stage. It both stagnates and propels forward, with no regard for its passengers. For me. For my state of mind.

I feel older. San Francisco was a bubble, a different sort of suspended animation. My life was easy, round, safe. Now my life is much more jagged. I grasp for silk and shreds slip through my waiting fingers.

I make more decisions now. Money – like time – has fickle weight. I make hard decisions with little concrete information on hand. I suck in my breath and take risks because to not would be to fall. Far. The tenuous ledge I’ve built has no ladder back down. To risk keeps me moving forward. There is no option to stand still.

It’s an interesting perspective – to be waiting for something to end and begin at the same time. I am waiting to find completion of this first stage of our project. I am waiting to begin the next, on-going stage of opening our business. My state of mind is framed within this game. Things that can not or should not be done now are put on a shelf to be revisited “when the cafe is open.” This shelf is cluttered – bathing, calling my best friend, wearing a dress, dancing.

Dancing! Dancing! It’s still in there. Somewhere. In the fabric of this evolution. It weaves itself through in unexpected, delicious ways – flashing bright yellow for a brilliant minute, soft green when I hear that song, steel blue in the evening light, and honey wheat when I stop to breathe. I feel it in my fingers, the bend of my elbow, the tilt of my chin as it examines a problem. But it waits. And I wait. In our state of suspended animation.

Amber Lane at sunset, August 2015.

Amber Lane at sunset, August 2015.

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