Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Ripple's LiveJournal:

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Friday, January 5th, 2007
5:30 pm	Home Sweet Home SF!! Sometimes one must leave to realize what one had at home: coming home to SF really felt like coming home. I hit the socialweb ground running, eager to reconnect and reengergize in community. Not long after I got back I had the pleasure of attending the Rhythm Society's winter solstice All Night Dance Celebration. I started with a greeter shift, danced and chatted and cuddled the night away. The closing ceremony was a kirtan; I found myself with tears running down my face, tears of joy and relief to be home. Mr. Purple and Oarnge was there; he looked at me and understood, gave me a hug and held on until I decided to lay on the floor of the church. Halelujah. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, December 4th, 2006
4:35 pm	I DID IT!!!! Monday 4 December 2006 DONE!! I did it, I did it! I performed 540ish shows, over 36ish weeks, in 13? states... without missing a single performance! I performed when I was happy, I performed when I was upset, I performed when I was heartbroken, when I was sick, naseous and dizzy every time I got out of bed, so sick that I could not sit on a chair in the office and sell tickets for 75 minutes, I lay down on the floor of the office and finally went to lie down in my room... but still I climbed the ladder when it came time to do so. I performed slightly injured, when something on my right rear ribcage was out of alignment, when every step on the ground sent pain to my ribcage, when I couldn't breathe naturally up there or do the routine with full grace, still I did it... I don't know if that sounds dramatic, I read what I've written and think, “am I really that tough?” but at the time doing so just felt necessary and normal.... and it was was facing the pain that healed me. Blaze had advised me: “Don't let yourself get sucked into the fear of the injury.” So I went up every day and realized that it wasn't that bad, and practiced silk in the evening until I literally couldn't lift myself anymore... and after about 5 days of performing through pain (during which time it never once occurred to me to take painkillers, isn't that weird? I was taking arnica, icing, etc), the show happened upon one of the most amazing audiences of the season. It was a suburb of Philadelphia, I believe, and the general admission was full of kids from the shelter system, they'd come with chaperones in yellow school busses. They were largely African American, they weren't afraid to respond to the performance. When “Thriller,” came on, they started screaming. All of us felt this unusual energy, we all smiled at each other during the dance. Most of my pain left me. I thought to myself, “Ignore the pain, don't let it clip your wings, this audience deserves the highest level of performance,” and I climbed my ladder with gusto and threw myself fearlessley into the routine, even more enthusiastic than normal as they started SINGING ALONG to “Billy Jean”... and halfway through, I felt a couple pops in my ribcage, and a lightness, a slight easing of tension. “It's popping back into alignment! My body is fixing itself!” I realized with joy, then forgot about it until I came down, walked out the back door, and realized that I no longer had pain with every step, realized that being bouyed up with joy by that audience had taken me past my pain and fear, and once I had let go of fear and pain, my body let itself fall back into alignment. What a miracle. I didn't expect to write about this now, I can't remember if I wrote about it before, but it just came tumbling out.... anyway! The point of this entry is this: I wanted to do it right, I wanted to do an entire tour without missing a show, and I did it. I'm proud of myself. I've been done for a week now, actually...still hafta write about trapezeBoy & trapeze class & Epcott & La Nouba & & &... THE FLORIDA KEYS, advice from an Irish bloke, the Hurricane Lounge adventure& Eric... KEY WEST FINDING A LITTLE SISTER. I didn't want her, I don't know if I'm ready... but I think there's no helping it, I think I've found a little sister. She's coping well through difficult circumstances, her radiance shines out and all around her respond to it. I'm pretty sure she'll be just fine regardless... but I find that I want to show her things, take her under my wing just a little, even if from a distance, pass on to a confident but struggling young woman the wisdom and love that was passed on to my by Metahara and others. I don't know if I'm ready to be someone's Big Sister, I don't know if she wants one, but I just feel like that's what's happening. Or maybe it's not a big/little sister relationship, maybe we'll just be friends and lovers... I do feel as if I've fallen in love a little... She found me, actually. I was going to the western beach at Key West to watch the sunset, I had a feeling that I'd find people there to hang out with, and indeed, I saw some scruffy kids hanging out on a blanket, including one tall slim cute girl... but first I went to say hello to the ocean and dance in the waves. I was dancing along, away from them, when I heard a voice behind me: “Are you a six food tall redhead, too?” She had followed me, and she was indeeed a slight but tall pretty girl with red hair. “No, I'm only five nine,” I respnded. “I thought you weren't quite as tall as me, but Will thought you were, so I came to ask you... would you like to come sit down with us for a bit?” I did. My first impression was that she was the kind of kid that talks tougher than she is just to deal. I hung out with them briefly, passed on their invitation to hang out more, gave her my number, said I'd try to meet them later but never bothered. She called me the next day, invited me to come meet her... I kind of didn't want to hang out with her, I had a feeling that her life was complicated and that I'd somehow get incorperated into it... but I was lonely, I remembered her charisma and warmpth. I didn't want to go meet her, but I told her where I was, and she walked across the island (it's not that far) and found me... and I was glad to see her. She brighter than the previous day, with bounce in her step, a green shirt her hair in goldern red gurls loose around her face, eyes clear, and a radiant smile as she came up to me, clearly glad to have found me. I realized that I was attracted to her, and her to me. It was fun. I always say I want to have some girl romance, but I seldom meet girls I'm attracted to at enough levels who also seem open to romance with other girls... it was so fun to realize that it was actually happening, that I'd met a sexy, beautiful girl I really liked who liked me too. I thought of what MagicBoy had told me a not half an hour before when I was a little down, lonely and trying to figure out what to look for in my evening. “I don't know what I want. I think I'd have a better chance of finding it if I knew what it was. You know me well, MagicBoy, what do you think I want?” --I think you want to find someone you feel comfortable connecting with, someone like you. --Boy or girl? --I don't think it matters. Not necessarily a sexual connection. --I think you're right. It didn't seem obvious how to find this. I didn't think consciously about BrightGirl, as I'll call her here, but later when I saw her, I was like, “Duh! I need to just let myself hang out with this girl and see what happens.” The more I hung out with BrightGirl, the more I was impressed by her attitude, way of being, and bright light. She is one of those people who have responded to a tough life in with grace and what seems to be an amazingly pure openheartedness. I found myself thinking, OK, it might be nice to stay in contact with this one, it might be a good thing. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
4:31 pm	Late summer- fall entries Wednesday 6 September BACK TO SCHOOL: The End of Summer Maddness and the Return to Journalling So I spent the summer living “fast.” I go through peroids of life where I am in go mode, living life faster than I can process or record it. A lot happens, and it's hard just to sleep enough, let alone find time to journal... and once I'm off the journalling wagon, it's hard to get back on, because there's SO much to write about! It would be better if I learned to just do brief entries during these peroids, because they are usually dramatic and exciting, and while I will now do my best to backjournal, it's not the same as putting experiences to “paper” while they are fresh. I know this because when I look back at journal entries sometimes only a few weeks old, I get the “Oh yeah, I felt like THAT!” sensation. This is why I like journalling: in addition to helping me process my life, it helps me keep track of myself. And now, with blogging, it helps my friends keep track of me, too! Yesterday I got a phone message from one of my best college pals, Amber. Apparantly when I told peeps I was running away to join the circus, she fell through the cracks.... ooops. Really, I feel bad about that one. She's one of the people who might have liked to pop in here from time to time... She called to let me know that she was FINALLY moving to SF from SD (which I've been getting on her case to do since I moved there in 2004?), and could I help her move in? “I know you've got the guns for it,” she said. Hearing her message, I laughed to myself, thinking; “She has no idea how right she is right now!” My “guns” are more present than they ever have been, I think. Not that I'm ultra muscly looking (or looking to be), but my strength is good right now...yay=) I left her a msg that I wished I could help her move, but that I'm on the east coast... can't wait to talk to her:) I think she'll get a good laugh out of the fact that I'm here, doin what I'm doin. THE BEST (available) NUTRITION: MALL FOOD COURT CHINESE I was out of food, it was a travel day. For some unfathonable reason I woke up early in spite of having trained hard on silks the night before (I ran the whole act for the first time, then had strength to do it again to Svetlana's music!). Being up early and needing more calories, I decided, what the heck, I'll eat the Cookhouse pancakes. Now that I have less of an aversion to white flour food than I used to (hey, it's calories!), I put some Nutella on them and enjoyed. At lunch I skipped the fried chicken, but grabbed the buttery pasta and some iceberg lettuce on my way to the office. On a Sunday schedule (1:30 and 4:30 shows, then travel), it's always whitebread, lunhmeat, and american cheese sandwiches for dinner, and I always pass... but I was hungry, didn't have time to cook my squash, AND they had TOMATOES with the sandwiches, so I had a cheese sandwich with onion and tomato, and my own added tahini sauce. Long story short, I ate three times at Cookhouse in one day, and NOT on a good day. Surprise of surprises, I was feeling kinda blech energetically as I got in the car with Blavid and Daze, and totally chowed on their snacks, my hardboiled egg, and the cheesecake Ted had given me. When we got to Frackville, PA 141 miles later and went scoutin for something to eat, we had to drive 7 miles to the ONE open diner in the area. The Peruvian clown/acrobat clan were there already. I had a tuna salad sandwich that was decidedly fluffy:( and onion rings. The next day I did NOT want to eat until after noon, and kinda wished I'd just gone to bed with the weird empty calorie empty/full feeling, perhaps I would have had energy to go running in the morning or sthg. Anyway, I went into the mall and headed straight for the chinese place. Every mall had some place offering “Chinese” or “Japanese” themed food, and ranges from blech to mediocre. Usually it's “Chinese,” so we'll use that: What I cannot understand is how all these Chinese restaurant owners and cooks ALL serve the same food! Across America, it's the same mediocre stuff! I am working with the assumption here that most of these people are either Chinese-American or are Chinese immigrants who know how to cook actual Chinese food, and who prepare food for themselves at home that is decidedly different from the stuff they serve in the restaurants. So how do they learn how to cook the over-sweetened cheap stuff that Americans seem to expect from “Chinese take-out”?? Are there brocures for new restaurant owners? A newsletter of recipies? Is the knowledge of how to cook cheap, sweet, and oily food Americans will eat passed on by word of mouth? Ify anyone has any insight into this mystry, plase comment! WATER DRAMA That day, Tuesday, we had the worst water the circus has experienced in years. It was BROWN. Fill up a 12 ounce bottle, the liquid inside was darker than Lipton iced tea. No kidding. One poor individual (who has a filter in his trailor!) woke up and drank some from his tap without paying attention, and got diharhea. Then word got out that the water guy told the powers that be that the water was brown, and was told to put water in all the trailors and sleepers, but not in the two big buses (mansions of the road) where the owner and general manager live. Needless to say, everyone thought this was quite cute. I was shocked at such flagrant disrespect: not only is it uncaring, it's stupid! The bosses have to live and work with us every day, I would have thought that they cared at least a little what people think of them. Nobody else seemed very surprised, though. 2 October 2006 What Happened To September? I thought I was infrequent with the journalling before... I have a pumpkin outside my door, on the other side of the steps from the mint, peppermint, and thyme Blaze left me when she and David departed for Cali, and my toenails are a beautiful bright shiny orange. For once I've planned ahead for Halloween, instead of being surprised and throwing together a costume at the last minute: I've got the makings for a classic witch costume, hat and all. I don't think I've ever been a witch, and it seems appropriate this year. We're in Albany, Georgia; I rode last night from Hampton (Atlanta Moter Speedway) with YoungThing, the new silk performer. I really like her, and feel that we have a lot to learn from each other, and we have an easy camraderie. I've definitely enjoyed being among people from various different cultures while on tour, and now I'm interested to note what a relief it is for me to suddenly have a peer who's culturally similar to me. Not exactly the same, but similar enough. Modern usage of “tribe,” word and concept: “tribal house” music, tribe.net, “s/he feels like tribe,” etc... I guess you could say that aerial people everywhere are a spread out tribe, or that circus people are another... I don't think that most americans or people at large in any country use the word much” I think it is more commonly in usage in the Bay Area and possibly other subcultures... but I'm curious. Is it a concept that's becoming more common? 15nov06 wednesday Overwhelmed Last night emotional stuff came up with both Shredder and MagicBoy. I was angsty, goin to bed at 2:45 in the morning, stressing about getting up early enough to train like I want to and need to so badly. When I'm not training, practicing, dancing, etc, I don't like myself. I have too much energy that I'm not using productively, so I get nervous, angsty, anger easily, spill my emotions onto those around me, am prone to poor eating and sleeping habits, and am generally a mess. [page 33! 33 has been a magic number for me since Bordeaux; it just seemed to resonate for me... and then recently at the Bodies exhibit I learned that there are 33 vertebra in the spine, if you count sacrum and cocyx. O sacred number, that holds up every human being! I'm pleasantly surprised to have written 33 pages of something. It just goes to show, a little at a time, it adds up.] When I'm training, practicing, dancing, etc I like myself. I'm happy. I feel like I'm a good person, doing good work, on my right path. I have confidence (mostly), joy, and I'm grounded. So I wanted to train early so I could be available to do homeschool with Freesia in case Becky wanted me to. I set my alarm for 9, and I really wanted to get up and train, but I was sooo tired, it took me 3 snoozes, to pull myself out of bed. After I showered, I lay back down in bed. Without someone to meet, a teacher or training partner to be accountable to, I didn't have the energy to get up and go start warming up my sleepy, tired body. Unfortonately, my mind was up (and angry at itself!). I lay, but didn't sleep. I started feeling a vast anger at myself, and my inability to make sound decisions. I should have known that it would be too much to train in the morning without having slept enough TWO days in a row. I should have just let myself sleep later, and start my day later, it would have been more productive. I was hating myself, really hating myself. Shredder and I texted a little. I thought she was coming over to get something, so I cleaned my room, took my dishes to soak, let the breeze blow into my room. Simple things with such a clearing effect! This also I've learned this year: the feng shui concept. I feel readier to go train if my little room is clean and orderly, relaxing, welcoming, and well-functioning abode. I asked Viky something, then saw a bunch of guys with Andre as well as Nickolai holding little Christopher by V&A's trailor, so I went there to hang out a bit, soak up the baby good vibes. Christopher was as usual happy to see me (what joy to see recognition and joy on a baby's face), and let me walk him a little, soft strong hands on my fingers as he happily struggled with balance and putting one foot in front of the other. Learning to walk is a slow, effortful process that babies approach with joy:) I squatted, and he held on to my left knee and thigh, then repeatedly leaned over to give wet open mouthed kisses to my left knee. Good thing I just showered, I thought. I put him up on my thigh, and he leaned down to kiss my left knee again! “I shower,” I said to Nickolai so he wouldn't worry about what his grandson was licking off my knee. Shred had suggested I run to the beach.... I hadn't run in a while, and the sunny breeze was calling, so although I didn't know where the beach was doubted I had time to get there anyway before my 12:30 office shift, I put on running clothes and shoes and let myself fall into the wind. My emotions were all over the place, my blood and angst high.... I soon started crying as I ran. Of course it felt great to be running, great to escape the lot, run away from the tent into the sunshine and breeze. I felt pain in my brow and realized that I was frowning hard. I rubbed it and tried to unfrown, but it kept coming back. I ran along, crying and rubbing my browridge and forehead, wondering if I looked a spectacle, if anyone would notice, hoping for anonymity. I didn't run far before the road crossed a lovely little waterway, a gentle but sleady flow of clear water 2-3 feet deep along which floated some lilypad-like plants in clumps. Here is a good place, I thought, and I stopped on the bridge to watch and absorb. I sat on the concrete wall and put my legs under the metal rail, enjoying the pressure of the wide metal rail against my stomach as I leaned over to watch the water and floating plants a few meters below. It was beautiful and cleansing, and I let myself cry, pressing my stomach more and more on the rail to move whatever was stuck there, it felt like my uterous was big but it had to be some stuck energy too, it sticks there easily because of old patterns, even though I've been doing so much healing and cleaning there. I thought of the conversation with MagicBoy (about K), and I thought of the one with Shred (about Circus careers & going for it) before that, I thought of the approaching cultural transition and lifestyle shift (from “circus person” to “towner”), I thohght of my dad's health challenges, and of my difficulties in forming easy connections with people, and I just let myself cry it all out. I thought of talking to MagicBoy (always helpful), I thought of journalling (also always helpful, plus then it's written down), and I thought that I should do as I've been meaning to for months and do less of the former and more of the latter. I had a flash of wishing I were a man, so that I wouldn't have to deal with the monthly hormonal ebb and flow of energy in my lower belly. Maybe if I were a man, I thought, I could just organize my energy and then it would flow straight through me, constantly available for creative work, undisrupted by lunar and hormonal cycles! Plus I could have sex without worrying about getting pregnant. That's silly though, I immediately reminded myself. I'd still have to worry about getting lovers pregnant, and what decision they'd make if they did get pregnant... not to mention that the energetic dynamics of manhood doubtless include their own challenges and downfalls. I'm just stressed, having a “grass is greener” moment. Interesting to have a moment of not liking my hormonal cycle, usually I'm so grateful for it, for the alternate bursts of cleansing and creativity it brings. It's not just ovulation hormones getting me down now, I realized, that's an excuse. Hormones might be making me more sensitive to transition stress, but that's what it is... I'm wigging out because I'm at a time of big transition, plus I'm trying to make lifepath decisions and plans, plus I'm still conrfronting my old self-confidence stuff and the more recent anger stuff, plus I had a really intense and challanging conversation last night with my most currently significant lover, plus I'm still struggling to feel at home in the circus even as I prepare to leave it.... yeah, ok, that's a lot of stuff. How interesting that here I am thinking about hormones, and just a few days ago Tiny gave me a garland of Sassafrass root to make delicious tea out of, and even though I read in my herb book that Sasparrilla (which he thinks is the same thing) is good for regulating both female and male hormones, I keep forgetting to makemyself tea with it! I need to take it off my alter, where I put it because it was so pretty, with it's circle of intertwined roots, and put it on my tea shelf! :) A minivan slowed and stopped on the bridge behind me, window rolled down to reveal two concerned and motherly African-American ladies in hospital scrubs. “Are you all right?” “Yeah, I'm fine, I'm just having a tough day.” I tried to answer, but they went right on: “Cause we can see that you're crying leaning over the bridge there and we were just wondering if you were all right, and we wanted to make sure you weren't thinking of jumping or anything.” As if this little bridge is hight enough to jump off! I think someone jumping from here might sprain an ankle when they landed in the shallow water 12 feet below. “Oh yeah, I'm fine, don't worry, I'm not gonna jump, I'm just letting myself have a cry before I have to go to work and deal with my life. Thank you for your concern, it's kind of you.” “Okay. Maybe you should talk to a counselor...” they added as they drove off. I tried to sit up straighter and keep my teary face away from the road, towards the water, so as to seem more normal and not scare anymore passersby. Damnit, I moaned inwardly, as I tried to cry with a straight face, there's not a safe place here where I can have a good cry without bothering someone. Grrr! Kindness can sometimes be meddlesome... When they were talking to me, I was touched and briefly warmed by their concern, but after they left, I felt interrupted, deprivied of finishing my cathartic cry for fear of troubling others. I sat there till I felt calmer, then ran back, trying to align myself skeletally and internally so the energy would flow better and not seem so terrible, so stuck and overwhelming and making my blood hot like it does sometimes. A SLAP IN THE FACE Physical life mirrors emotional state.... I approached the circus from the back, glad as usual for the miracle of coming Home to a circus tent. The dark opening of back door beckoned to me from between the billowing yellow and red tent flaps, promising me harbor, calm, catharsis, a safe place to go work on difficult things. I made a beeline for it, planning to work out on Andre's ladder as usual. Then I saw Maribel's lyra (metal hoop) hanging alone in the backdoor, swinging in the wind like the heavy plasticized tent curtains around it. I ran up to it, put the dark and cool tent at my back and the sunshine in front of me, took it in my hands, and let myself lean forward into the breeze for a cleansing windy supported arch... only to be slapped hard in the face by an especially exuberant push of wind on tent flap. I still had tears and sweat on my face; the blow brought the tears up again as I got my feet back under me. My face and right eye hurt strongly for a minute; I wondered if a gromet had hit my face and if I was bleeding. I touched my forehead, it was wet but not bloody, but everything was numb, I wasn't even sure where I'd been hit hardest. I stalked off to the ladder, moved the nearby big fan so it would blow on the ladder, give me wind (give me wing, I just typed by mistake). I sat on the ladder facing the wind and just cried more. The tent felt private, I was hoping there was no one passing through to see me leaning my butt on the ladder and sobbing. Eventually I went around the the underslant side of ladder and jumped to grab the rung that has tape on it and hang... always so good to hang. I brought my knees over the bar below, tucked my toes into the rung below that, and relaxed into kneehang. It used to be so painful, the pressure on the backs of my knees, now it is relaxing to feel the metal bar pushing through my hamstring, a sensation of softening of the muscle almost all the way to the femur, it seems. I did my 13 hanging situps, paused and cried a moment, then restarted. Instead of 7 more I did 13 again (yea still getting stronger!), focusing as always on the area in front of my lower spine, concentrating on accessing and building the power there, that fundamental connection that is so critical both for aerial and dance work and for emotional stability and well-being. My work in the circus, the simaltaneous, same work of healing myself and developing my physical and performing skills. “More than a circus” the quote I just cut out and pasted on the back of the journal Shred gave me. I stretched my backbend, sacrum on the bar, toes locked in below, outward rotating my shoulders and arching the whole spine as I bounced, bounced my head closer, ever closer to my feet. I did two pullups, figured that was enough for a day like today, stretched my shoulders. All the while I was still teary and feeling like a mess. Hey, at least being a mess no longer keeps me from working out! I wanted to go lay down and cry and then sleep, maybe talk to a friend, but I knew it was time to head to the office, so I went to get myself together. I went to wash my face and discovered a spot of blood high on my nose by my right eye, surrounded by a bruise. My left brow was a little swollen. Interesting, I thought, now I actually have a physical pain and swelling right where I had an intense sensation of stress and tension before. I threw together my compuer backpack and the shiny silver sack with food knew I wasn't likely to eat, except for the apple. I know I'm hungry, but I don't want to eat, it doesn't seem right in a state like this, with my blood running and the wind blowing the palm tree right outside the office window as I pour my process out into the computer with great relief. Thank goodness for writing! Shred said last night that I had a gift with verbal communication. She was amazed at something I'd written in my journal-- something I'd written in French, so no one could read it if they found my journal. Something I fould embarrassing, private, she thought it was beautiful, inspiring, and that I should put it on my future website as my vision statement. She asked for a copy of it. “I won't misuse it,” she assured me, though I don't know how she could... I guess if she used it without citing me? Anyway, it was nice to get good feedback about written/verbal skills, I have put a decent amount of energy into developing that. She also said she thought people were intimidated by the way I talk. “Really?! You mean at the ticket office?” I was surprised.... (well, mostly surprised, it also made sense) “Yeah,” she said, “Sometimes you're like, '...and furthermore...' you come out with these big words when you're talking to ordinary people.” How sad, I'm now thinking, that “ordinary” doesn't include a secure grasp of the language we all speak here.... In my world –the world that I'm used to, as well as the world that I want to help create for everyone-- ordinary DOES include a solid grasp of language, an ease with verbal, written and non-verbal communication.... Gotta go, breaktime. Monday of the LAST WEEK!!! Boy am I excited! Happy happy happy! Wrote this probably Bad poetry in text messages last night to Pink, my virtual friend. We met briefly when his circus was near mine, mostly we text, sometimes we talk on the phone. He's one of those daring people with colorful tattoos and hair. He told me he was listening to Johnny Cash live at San Quentin... I was in a bit of a state, I wrote back and let myself keep on writing... Nice! It burns, burns, burns, that ring of fire. But fire is cleansing, destruction allows rebirth, new growth.... Let it take you higher, the fire... I'm trying to ride it high, I've felt the fire, it's propelling me upwards into the air in a burst of sparks that sizzle around me like sparkles, like faireydust, like glitter around a raver's eyes, waterdrops in sunlight changing state with heat and light, reflecting a ranbow outward inspiring beings with their tranformation. Warmpth, love spread outward from fire when we aren't afraid when we watch the balance in ourselves and in the system around us Latenight same date So I've been hanging out with Jesus :0 Just left his birthday party. 11 people, 10 guys and me, in one bedroom! Laro's, in the pony trailor. Some of the guys asked me (in spanish, of course; 90% of converation w/ Jesus is in Spanish too, my spanish is slowly improving), 'Are you going to take Gonzalo back to California with you?” O, the social pressure around romance! I hang out with the guy a few days, exchange a few chast kisses and hugs, and now his buddies are asking me if I'm taking him with me to Cali! “I don't know,” I chose to say, rather than embarassing him by coming right out and saying, “Um, no, actually I had absolutely no intention of doing that.” He said he wanted to see Cali and SF, asked him if I'd show him around SF, I told him I'd do so if he came to visit. He said not this year, maybe next. I told him I didn't know where I'd be, but if I was in SF I'd be happy to show him around. A little later, he turned to me: “You're my gir!” Call me a bitch, but this I could not have. Something deep inside revolted immnediately against the suggestion that hanging out with someone and exchanging 3 kisses made me “belong” to him. I couldn't allow it even to be nice. “No, I'm not. No estoy la chica de nadie(spelling?)” I felt a little guilty, like maybe I was lying a little. Would I let MagicBoy say I was his girl? But that's different, he would say it meaning I was special to him, not trying to possess me. What about ClearEyes? Would I let him get away with such a statement? But he just WOULDN'T say that, not at this point. It's the exteme prematurity that bothers me. Then again, there's a week left, who can blame Jesus for trying for as much intimacy as possible in a short time? It still makes me laugh, writing his name. 'Jesus wants me.' I'm hanging out with Jesus. It looks so funny. “I'm not anybody's girl. Or, I'm everybody's girl.” “Why?” “I'm too independent. My life right now is performance, not relationships.” And this is true: although I long for relationship, the choices I'm making are not centered around that, they are centered around my path. He looked sad, though, right in the middle of his birthday party. I felt bad. “I'm sorry, that's just the way it is,”I said, rubbing his back. We were talking quietly in the noisy room, laying with Laro and another guy on Laro's bunk bed. “Don't be sad. It is the way it is.” “It's okay. I understand,” Jesus said. “I want you to be happy. If you're not happy, I'm not happy.” There is a way in which he is wonderfully mature, giving, grounded, and loving. A few days ago, when I first rode with him in his friend Arturo's new car, and we stayed in the car talkng afterwards, I was so excited, talking to him. For a month now, I brushed off his crush. So he liked me... whatever, that doesn't mean anything special except that there are 3 single girls and lots more guys all working and living together. It's a numbers game; with so many guys and so few girls, how could I let myself be flattered by someone's affection? Of course he likes me, there's no one else here to like! I think I'm the ONLY single one at this point, I think everyone else is hooked up. Ironic, that (or not?)I've worked so much in the realm of desire, and yet in some ways I find it hard to connect.... So when we were talking in the car and he was telling me he liked me, I was surprised to find that I did feel flattered, I did feel special for a moment. It's his 4th or so year here, he said, but I'm the first girl he liked (or the first girl who returned his attention?... the cynic in me questins). Why didn't I let this happen earlier? I asked myself. I could have had a boyfriend for a month or two, and undoubtedly a quite devoted one.... The night after, Jesus helped Shredder and I hang my silks so we could practice. Svetlana taught me a brief sequence, different, new, fun! Then to Walmart with Jesus and brothers Arturo and Carlos, then I invited Jesus into my room for tea. We talked, I started feeling more and more comfortable. He really is warm, and in spite of constantly disclaming that he doesn't know how to talk to women, in some ways he knows exactly how. Others not, of course. It's weird, sometimes it feels like he's laying it on too heavy, too soon, at other I appreciate his unabashed and seemingly unconditional affection. Maybe I'm just lonely... I mean, of course I am... So I've had some moments of vulnerable intimacy with Jesus, and more moments of setting boundries. We kissed, it was nice. But I only wanted a little. He's sooooo innocent! The next night was the last Saturday before the last Saturday, and following Erin's lead a bunch of us went bowling. Jesus, Shredder, Fernando, Arturo, I, and later Alejandro bowling, and Carlos, Marta, and Louis watching. I understood why I hadn't let it happen earlier: I would have gone crazy! The boy was CLINGY! Not that I can't be clingy; some clinginess is ok, pleasant even, if attraction is balanced... but he likes me more than I like him... poor boy. That itself is a big part of why I didn't go there earlier; I know he's in such a different world than I, emotionally and psychologically. “He's probably ready to marry you,” Shred said, kinda joking but not really. And indeed, when we were talking about our future plans, he did invite me to come live with him, in his house. In a way, it's such a beautiful gift, that kind of openness from another human being. (Even though he must have known that my answer would be no!) I'm truly touched. But in another way, too much openness is getting in the way of just enjoying each other's company for a little while. I have to set so many boundries that I can no longer fully relax... Why does this sound famaliar? At least he's not pushy sexually, the way Michael was.... O, I can't wait to get back to San Francisco! The next day was Jesus's 23rd birthday, but it was a travel day which is why the party was today. BOYS BOYS BOYS.... I had a nice talk with ClearEyes tonight, about our lives and our relationships to our work, it was interesting and pleasant. He said he hopes to have some time to hang out by the time I get back! “So you'll be susceptible to my influence!” I said. I'm not sure why I chose those words. There's something sublte that comes up sometimes, a feeling I get that sometimes he wants me to be dominant, or to be under my influence, or maybe just relax and let someone else take the reins. Those sexy comments he made early on about me driving his car, how that's the way it should be, me behind the wheel... we'll go anywhere I want... so enticing! (And the idea of submitting is enticing, too... i.e. with MagicBoy. Such a different dynamic than with ClearEyes. Perhaps it's submitting to MagicBoy, and Letting ClearEyes in? No, that's not right either. It's just opening, but with different flavors. So many shades of a similar thing!) “I don't know about that,” he countered. “You know you want it.” I said with confidence, enjoying the play. We'd talked about his work, which was interesting and illuminating. “WHY does your work take over your life, ClearEyes? I don't understand.” (as if my true work isn't my life?) “Well, things could go wrong, and I get worried about it, and I don't want that to happen. Most of the people involved are pretty secure, they're not going to be paupers if this falls through, but I don't want that to happen, I feel reponsible.” That's normal.... He said there were some politics, and that not all of the partners were actually there, some were running other companies. “One of the other guys, he's doing _____, he's in charge of ___________! I can't even begin to imagine that kind of responsibility! For me it's games, but that's serious responsibility.” “I get that about you, that in a way its all a game to you.” I said. “Yeah, for sure, but right now I'm too sucked in. I'm stressing out too much.” “You gotta be careful, if you care too much, you're less likely to win.” “I know, it's dangerous....” “But at the same time, you gotta want it to accomplish something.” I was talking aloud my own process, thinking of my own struggle around this, for example with trying to get my silk act ready, and of how I'm walking the tight wire of confidence and dreaming big and groundedness, stability, and focus in acknowleding that I want to work towards Cirque du Soleil, facing my fears of unworthiness... “It's a fine balance, the desire and the not getting too wrapped up in it...” (I'm trying to recreate this conversation, its certainly not exact.) We talked about this stuff, then Clear Eyes talked about how his friends were saying that he didn't look good, that he looked a lot better 9 months, a year ago. I encouraged him to go to Jim Donak and get the massage I gave him. He asked me for like the 4th time where it was, and I told him. “It's close, 15 minutes from your house in morning rush hour traffic! [this is probably an exxageration] It's only far pshychologically... You should go, you'd feel better in many ways, not just physically. Jim's great, you can talk to him, he's wise and grounded.” Wednesday 22 November Last night I ran my silk act and Elmo taped it! It wasn't the best run, it was really cold, the music I'd pulled wasn't quite right, and I was nervous because of the filming and the people that were there, but I ran through it. I FINALLY got to see myself on silks! Watching it afterwards on the little camcorder screen, I was surprised at how long, skinny, and floppy I looked. I definitely need more intention, confidence, and dynamism in my movements. “I need to go faster,” I said aloud. “No you don't,” said Yuri. “You're a big girl. Don't try to go fast. That's for short girls. You need to find better, slower music, and give people time to look at you.” Svetlana and Elmo concurred. “You need to have more pauses, it will look better and it will give you time to rest as well.” Elmo had said earlier, “There's so much wrapping and setup... you need to pause when you're done so the audience can enjoy something pretty.” “You're a dancer. You're not an acrobat, don't try to compete with acrobats. Let them do lots of tricks. You need a few tricks, and you need to bring your dance into it.” Yuri added. THANKSGIVING DAY 2006 I am extremely grateful to have been invited to share family Thanksgiving and great homemade food with Ted and Renee and family. Since we traveled tonight, we had the dinner last night. Delicious and fun! And we watched Cirque du Soleil La Nouba... beautiful! I've never seen it. The silk act...I had to put down my lemon cake. The trampoline finale... we all kept saying, “I can't believe that's REAL!” It looked like special effects from a movie, with rigging and editing, but it was a real life, real time, perfectly choreographed and executed amazing acrobatic act. Wow. Later Shred and Renee and I were laying on Renee's bed talking about the show and how amazing it was. Trying out being confident with my dreams, I said: “I can see myself being a character dancer at Cirque du Soleil, and perhaps doing some aerial ensemble work.” I could be corps de ballet, Cirque style, I thought to myself with an inward chuckle. “What do you guys think?” “Sure, why not?” said Renee. “For sure.” Erin told me. DRAMA One of ther performers here, who shall remail unnamed, is losing it, cracking. In front of the audience, even: he did inappropriate things in front of 1,100 people. I went by his place to check on him a couple times, wanting to give him some support, show him he's cared about, hopefully help him process some of the anger that's controlling him.... The first time it was helpful, I believe. Just now he was talking about violence, doing violence to other people here. 'I am out of my depth here,' I thought to myself. I called Erin; she said she'd tell Renee, and that we'd have a powow when they got here. I'm sitting, once again, in their trailor, waiting to talk. I think it's most likely that this angry person is just venting, and that it will blow over. But, I'm not sure. He is not himself right now, and he's already done things I never thought he'd do. I don't want to be a rat, especially unnecessarily... but if he did crack and somehow hurt another person on the show, and I'd known ahead of time that he was talking about doing so and then I hadn't told anyone, I'd feel Terrible. So, I've told my most levelheaded friends, and we're discussing. Thank goodnes. Followup: We had powow with Renee and Ted, they calmed me down, and we came up with a plan to show caring to the individual in question. Ted may have talket to him, and we exectued our plan, which he appreciated, and everything was fine. Three cheers for community!! (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, July 18th, 2006
1:52 am	Flying in NY Today we had off! The circus booked a mall in Bay Shore, Long Island, for 7 days, then could only get a performance permit for 6, so we have a totally unprecedented (the veterans say) day off. Apparantly the circus loses 40-45,000$ by being dark today. I'd had plans to go to manhattan to see an off-broadway show with my clown pal Elmo, but realized that going to a silk class taught by my friends appealed to me more! yay. I thought I'd have to take the train, but a serendipidous ride manifested; one of the advance booking guys (who says he has a softspot for redheads) delayed driving to PA for an hour, until I finished my office shift. Thank you, thank you. Class was FUN! slightly intense at moments (and I hadn't eaten much, it's so hot and I was running around), but I breathed thru it and found internal grounding, took the internal arnica I'd serendipidously just bought for the bruises on my my shins, refocused, and learned a new trick! There's another trick I saw that I hope to figure out for myself next time I'm on silk. it was so much fun! Also balanced people acro-yoga style, was balance, and stretched splits... they are so much better! I felt so confident... instead of feeling like the shy outsider I have so often percieved myself to be, I was the friend-on-tour who was guested into a class that was part of a series, and held my own with relative ease, and much joy, and camraderie with the other students. Grateful. Current Mood: jubilant (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, July 4th, 2006
8:51 am	June's Writing A VISIT FROM A FRIEND! Sunday 5 june Jessica Fripp came to visit me today! She drove two hours from Williamstown (?), Mass, to spend the morning with me and see the matinee! What fun --for both of us, I think. I was thrilled to see a face I've known a long time, to see someone who knows me from a former life. Knowing people over time is a comfort. To be with someone who knows how you were 9 years ago, and can see how you are now, is a wonderful thing. Since I had had the impression that very few people were reading this blog, I was really touched to discover that an old friend has been following along, and keeping track of where the circus is playing. She made the effort to drive so far to see me on a weekend when she knows people graduating from college, and even brought a thoughtful care package from the co-op in her town! Pomegranate juice (gotta nurture Persephone;), nettle tea!, dried papaya (which I love these days), trailmix, Bronners peppermint soap bar. Right on! Bless her heart! It was the first time I've had someone visit me, and it was really fun to share the circus with her. I told her circus secrets and gossip, got her a ticket, and was motivated by her presence to make sure that my makeup was really nice (more green and silver sparkly eye shadow—I've been doing that ever since the mountain adventure) and that I had a lot of performance energy. During my act, I flashed her a lot of big grins, simaltaneously proud to be showing her my performing job, and a bit embarrassed about the cheeziness of the act. I went and sat with her just before intermission (note to self: next time put any visitng friends on the aisle). During intermission these days Shredder and I help Theo and sons with sheep herding (crowd control) for the snake pictures ($10 for a polaroid of you and fam/friends with an albino Burmese python draped around your photos). Theo consented to give Jessica a photo... then left the snake, Bonita, on her shoulders, saying as he walked off to talk to some audience members at the edge of the ring: “Hold that for a second, I'll be right back.” So she stood there in the middle of the ring with elephants on her left and the pony ride on her right and a snake on her shoulders, a big grin on her face. “Aah, it's starting to squeeze!” she said good-naturedly as Theo came back to retrieve Bonita. After intermission I went and took Edgar the funnel cake guy up on the funnel cake he's been offering me for weeks, and Jessica and I ate it as we watched the second half of the show. She barely ate during the silk act, just gazing as Blaze and Svetlana gracefully and daringly climbed, swooped, twisted and fell through their routine. “This is what you want to learn to do?” she asked me. “Yes... but I'm a long way from being strong enough so do it well. I can do a few of the first few things Svetlana does, but they're nothing.” Once again, the goal of having a performance-worthy silk act by the end of the tour seemed far away. Will I ever be that strong? Will I be able to motivate myself to train suffeciently? With Jessica with me, I was reminded again how exciting it is to be with the circus, and also how dreary. Life on the road, the glitz and glow of performance, socializing with an international crowd of performers, tech folk, and workers... and also living in a tiny trailor, working seven days a week, doing an act that is totally cheezy, with very little artistic satisfaction. I was both reminded of the glamour of my job, and the shallow, commercial aspect. “I can't believe I'm in your trailor!” she exclaimed, sitting the the pigsty of my room before the show. It was halfway cleaned up, I'd spent 2 hours the night before cleaning and organizing and folding clean laundry (I'd really let things go before finally doing laundry at Quirky's hotel!), but it was still a crowded MESS in there when her knock woke me up at 10:30 this morning. I'd planned to wake up earlier and clean more, go to Panera and do more internet (how I thought I'd accomplish all that before she came, I have no idea)... but I haven't been sleeping much since before Tannersville, PA (Camelback). There I wanted as many waking hours as possible to spend on the mountain and by the creek... AND there was the journy up the mountain, into the woods, an to the lake (I still have yet to write about that!)... and since then I've been integrating the.... healing? Perhaps I should call it the “allignment session” that happened there, and then reconnecting with Quirky. Goodness, I am so glad that she is here! It brings me such joy! Whew, tangent! Anyway, the previous night Quirky and I had stopped by Theo's moterhome to ask use of his toilet before heading to Quirky's dive of a hotel to spend the night, since she was afraid of the roaches there, and usually wants company, anyway, especially since we haven't seen each other. So we sat down to say hi to Theo, then we got talking, then he offered us champagne, and before we knew it, it was 2am, and 3am by the time we were in bed in the hotel. Quirky had to be back for markenting duty during Tentraising, at 7am, so we got 3 ½ hrs of sleep. I think I'm rambling. Are entries like this interesting, or just too much information? I mean, this journal serves a few purposes: helping me process what's going on in my life, sharing information with friends and loved ones, and recording it for my future reference. I always think I'll remember the details of what happened, what I felt, what I learned... but often I don't! I reread old journal entries, even from weeks or months ago, and am like, “Oh yeah! I remember that!” That is why jounalling is such a useful tool. But since BLOGGING is also a social interaction, I try to be at least somewhat mindful of you who are reading, and try to check myself when I notice myself including what may be excess details. Who are you, any way, dear readers? If you're reading this, and you care to identify yourself by emailing me, or making a comment and leaving a (real or nick) name, I'd be interested in knowing who my audience is. The only people who have directly informed me they are keeping up are Metahara, Ali, and Jessica. Since I only recently learned that Jessica was, I'm curious to know who else is. Hello Out There. Namaste! Thanks for you interest =) So many people to think of: I've been thinking about Love Grenade a bunch recently, speaking of bloggers. I should try to contact him next time I'm online. So many phone numbers I lost when my old phone bit the dust! Love Grenade, I look forward to dancing with you again! And Free, I've wished I could call you, too. Ah, contact dancing lovers. All my contact and other dance friends, except for Ali, (who wins Frind Of The Year Award, BTW for offering, without being asked, to clean and organize the stuff in my basement when my landlady mandated that this happen during my absense)... so hard to keep in contact without the physical contact, the face to face, the visceral interaction, since that is how we get to know each other. So hard for me to make a habit of keeping the connections over distance... it's a skill I've always had difficulty using, motivating to use. Sometimes, some ways, I'm so in the moment... but socially, at least, it's good to keep connection over time. For years I've thought about Jessica and Libbat-Tzion, my roommates during sophomre year of college, without ever getting around to actually looking them up. I've always meant to look themr up and catch up; I miss them. I wouldn't be surprised if Libbat has a kid or two by now... and/or if she has some fabulous academic or other career. I hope she's still dancing... she was a FANTASTIC ballroom dancer, she loved to dance, but she was a conservative Jew looking at Orthodoxy, in her sophomore year of college! I admired her faith, but never really supported the possible move to orthodoxy, because Orthodox Judaism doesn't permit women to dance in front of men, only in front of other women. This seemed too much of a restriction, especially for someone who got so much joy, ecstatic connection, out of dancing, specifically partner dancing. Who else? Martina, my fabulous Australian goddess, I've been wanting to contact you too! She sent me a comic book she worked on, and I'm so lame that I haven't even read it yet! I put it on the top bunk, it got covered with clothes, and every time I see it up there, I remind myself to take it down and read it and write to her, but then I forget, just like for 4 days running I've forgotten to sew the button back on the front of my costume... how embarrassing. A little more focus, awareness, and initiative would make me both more professional and a better friend. So many amazing people in my life... so much joy in connection! To list all the people I think about, and wonder about --all the way back to Loren Valterza, Sheila Dodson, Beth Lawrence, Laura Marubashi, Jessica Cass, Jessica Smith (how many Jessicas have I known?), Noah Merin, Hans Riegals, Scott Edmunds, Elizabeth Tindell, Alyssa Tarnofsky, etc, etc.---would take so much time! How to know all the things I want to know in life? How old friends and acquaintances are doing, the mysteries of chinese medicine, how to open the body, how to climb and wrap myself in a silk and do breathtaking tricks, in a way that is daring, artsy and safe for me, how to have good, easy relationships, how to be happy more of the time, what's happening in the worlds of physics and other exploratory science (I still haven't finished those Scientific Americans I bought a month+ ago), how to still my mind, how to not lose momentum and get stuck after a phase has outlived it's usefulness, how to do fabulous, steady pirouettes and other turns and take strong, self confident, flying leaps, how to do some minor acrobatics, how to have the performing career I want, how to also keep working for the social evolution that seems necessary to me, how to do all this and have family at some point, and a wide and deep spiral web of friends, and to discover other ways and locations and types of people. Surely it's all possible. I am a have-my-cake-and-eat-it-too type of person. I don't compromise easily (which of course has advantages and disadvantages). I can make it happen.... it will all happen somehow, with faith, perserverence, and joy. I am learning better and better habits, coming into better alignment, cleaner and more efficient functioning. I am ever discovering, ever in wonder.... Axe! So, for a story of recent discoveries: JOURNAY TO DEEP LAKE this was on wednesday may 31st with Shredder anchored by Matt, in a way, guided by family: a man who goes by Griff, just like my late grandfather Shredder and I got up at 6am and hiked up the ski slope to the top of Camelback mountain. It was warm where we were, but fog rolled in below us, hiding the red and yellow bigtop from us. We had escaped the fog of the circus to exalt on a sunny mountaintop, far away and up high! We sat up there enjoying the sense of height, verdant spaciousness, and warm sunshine. A man, a very pregnant woman, and her toddler appeared; we discovered that they started every day by meeting on the mountaintop. The man's went by Griff, just like my dad's late father. After we told them how much we were enjoying the scenery, Griff suggested an easy hike to some lovely lakes, and offered to drive us to the trailhead. Since we didn't have to work until 3:30 and it was before 9am, we accepted with excitement. A real adventure into the woods! How lucky and serendipidous! I felt guided by family. Griff drew us a detailed map, and gave me directions. Shred left me in charge of finding the way. We both rode with the mom and her kid to the trailhead, Griff following to see us off. He walked with us for a bit, telling me a bit about the history of the Welsh name Griffith: apparantly in Wales Griffith is as common as Smith, and is a common name among cole miners. I had no idea of any of this, although my late grandfather worked (an office job) for Shell oil; not exactly coal, but still a mineral extracted from the ground. There were some caterpillars (my old fear symbol) along the path; I'm getting used to them. Lots of trees.... Anyway, we found the lakes. We passed Wolf Swamp and continued to Deep Lake, as Griff had suggested. And deep, indeed, was our experience there. We stripped and waded into the cool water.... swimming into the droplet of lake in the rolling breathing hills... it was the most perfect moment. We're both strong swimmers, and welet go of hesitation and just swam out, confident in strength, and laughed and laughed and laughed in the middle of the lake. I felt how my childhood fears of the underwater unknowns are just one aspect of the fears I'm working on letting go... and I let it go, and felt safe and strong and wonderful in the middle of the lake. I felt that there was a tree on the opposite shore that was calling to us, so we swam there, and discovered some lovely lakeweed, and played with it for quite some time. It had the prettiest little leaves and the most amazing clear slime. We putt it on our bodies and our breasts and our faces, and gazed into the reflection of the lake in the globular slime that was attatched to the roots of the weeds we accidentally pulled out... We meditated on Joy, slime, life, divine femenine.... Connection, slipperiness and flow, warmth and cool, and Textures. I've been reading The Web That Has No Weaver, and there at the lake, I felt that I was starting (just beginning!) not only to understand Chinese medicine philosophy, but to and see and FEEL textures and patterns. There was lots more: reflections on self confidence and it's relation to my spine stuff, working on opening that (that night I kicked over from a backbend for the first time ever!), love, friendship, processing, letting go, que sera, enjoing where and with whom I am, reflecting on yin and yang and and traditional gender roles, ignoring them AND letting them guide and be.... Swimmng back, more frolicking in the water, doing butterfly and flying through the water, feeling so strong! We were all set to play more in the lakeweed by where we'd left our clothes, but a ranger appeared and called us out of the water. He wanted to give us a ticket for swimming!! Imaging this: you can hike and bike, but not swim! Why do some people make rules that seem to aim to prevent people from experiencing ecstasy? Erin was moderately freaked out (“Did he say he was going to call the sherrif?” she asked in fear. “No, he said that he'd be over there waiting for us, silly!”), so I dressed more quickly (the ranger had courteously walked away to give us privacy) and walked over to talk to him, confident that I could tap into the grounded and polite way to talk him out of giving us a ticket... and I did! Yay for dealing with authority without fear! We stayed by the lake for a bit, eating fruit and chatting. Walking back in the warm lovely heat, who should we encounter but Griff, who had gone looking for us at the circus, and when he realized that we weren't back yet, he had come to find us and ease our way home by giving us a ride back! How nice! When we came out of the forest just before the trailhead, the fog below us had cleared and we saw all down the valley! Thanks to Griff, instead of having to rush straight to the ticket office after a long walk, we had some cool-off time in Shredder's glowy chill room before.... Ticketchaos! Actually it was a fairly mellow day (fortunately), but for some reason the office vibe brought up old self esteem stuff. Interesting. I just noticed it and focused on my task, knowing it would go away sooner or later. Ladderplay was fine. After ladderplay we walked down the hill to where the pond poured into the creek, and enjoyed the little waterfall and Carlito who brought us each a little flower:) Then it was time for finale and packing, the Mombassa Troupe was waiting for me.... I passed OUT in the car on the ride to Fishkill... once there I talked with parents and again with Matt, love sent from MagicBoy, but I was no longer so craving it so much (tho still glad to hear the message); I was more excited about my own experience, and the parallel connection with Shred. The past few days have been ongoing illumination and integration. Axe! I DID IT!! Thursday 22 June I did an actual drop on the silk last night! It's one of the ones that Svetlana does in her performance; apparantly it's a basic drop taught to beginners, quite safe and pretty easy... but it looks cool! And letting go when I was all wrapped up was definitely a leap of faith, of trust in my body (my core strength), and in Blaze's instruction and in her watchful eye (that I had wrapped myself up correctly). This probably won't illuminate it much, but here goes: Climb up at least 15 or so feet off the ground, straddle up to crochet lock (one bent knee over silk), wrap the “live end” around my back, around the other leg, around the stomach, put it in the opposite armpit, climb up over the knot, turn my back to the “dead end” (the part going from the knot to the suspending wire), hold myself up by reaching one arm over my head, hold the “live end” (loose silk hanging toward ground) securely in other arm... and let go! ...to tumble forward and down, around to one side and then the other... ...before landing in a nice safe lock. Climb up over knot to get out, shake legs free, next trick... or, in my case, slide to ground quivering with excitement and adreneline, hop up and down like a proud little kid, and enjoy the amused smiles of Blaze and David. MEXICAN BENCH PRESS AND RUSSIAN SITUPS! It was a night of working out; yay for the international crew! After finale Svetlana and Yuri's gymnastics mat had been calling me, so I hurridly changed out of my costume, washed my makeup off, and ran back to the back door to stretch on it. Carlito was there (yum), and I enlisted him to toss my legs (I laid on my back and held onto his ankles, he tossed my legs down, I pulled them up, 30 or so times). A bit later, after a break, I was on my way from my sleeper back to the tent (ah, that lovely circus commute: 200 feet from front door to work!) to spend some more time on the gymnastics mat to stretch some more. I walked by the generator truck where some of the worker dudes were doing their weightlifting thing... and realized that I wanted to try. Now, if I'd ever before in my life done a bench press, I've forgotton; it always seemed silly to me. However, last night it looked like fun, and I'm also more interested in upper body strength than I was before. I wanted to feel my muscles work, to actually do something that will ease my way toward the strength for more silk and other aerial work. I asked if I could join them, saying I wanted to try with a small amount of weight. They gave me the bar weighing nothing, I asked them to add. They kept saying, “It's too heavy for you, it's too heavy for you!” ...but I know that I've held people while contct-improving, so I figured 30 pounds should be nothing for me. It was easy to do 15 presses with 30, and with 40. We took a break, and I led them into the tent and showed them how I do upside-down situps while hanging by my knees on the ladder. They couldn't do more than a couple, partly because it hurt the backs of their knees too much. Yuri was in the tent, guiding his and Svetlana's 8 year old son Nikki (Nikita) through some handstand presses. He beckoned me over, and showed me the most deadly situps! I couldn't even do the first way he suggested, but I worked at it. Tiny came it to bring the teacup I'd left outside, and Yuri made Tiny (who is anything but) hold my feet. I was ready to work hard; it was sweet! I went back out and did 15 presses with 50 pounds; that I had to work for at the end. I have no idea if that's a lot or not; I know that people bench press ridiculous amounts of weight, but they guys were doing pretty much the same weight sets I was, I found out. But boy was I sore today! INHERENT GRANDEUR Sunday 25 June I was STILL at tid bit sore over the weekend... jeez! When I was lifting, I knew it'd make me sore, but I didn't care at all; I just wanted to do it. Totally worth it, though. Next time I might take it just a bit easier so that soreness doesn't inhibit stretching and more working out. So tonight I rode with David and Blaze from Norwich, Conn, to Abington, a bit south of Boston. Nice ride, Sundays are always fun bc we leave when there's still daylight, and actually get to see our surroundings (lots of trees). I dozed off a bit, still recovering from Thursday night when our sleeper got a flat, and slept on Theo and Desiree's couch from 3-6am, got up and cleaned my room, and then went on a long jog. (I am crazy sometimes.) Upon arrival I was looking at some pictures in B&D's trailor, and there was this great one of our big aerial number, with ladders, lines, showgirls, lights, and David on the trapeze silhouetted against the starry backdrop of the tent roof. In the upper left was a colorful figure arching upside down off her ladder, arms gracefully spread, a smile barely visible on her small face... and I realized it was me! I was surprised to realize how nice I looked; I generally think of my costume and the choreography as cheezy. It wasn't just me; the whole scene looked excitin and pretty. I guess having 9 aerialists in the air at once has a certain inherent grandeur that shines through any type of styling. I think I wrote here about meeting Tom the Ringling Gold Show clown, but didn't mention that he really liked our big, “old style” aerial number. That made me really happy to hear at the time, and still makes me feel better about what I'm doing, since my little part often doesn't feel that significant. But if it's part of something bigger that's nice, then that's good. Hey, that's worth remembering: if ever it doesn't feel that what I'm doing is significant, I should remind myself to find a way to step back and see the bigger picture; perhaps it's more significant than it feels. I still have the “star desire” I've had since I was a kid. I want (though I hate to admit it) to be admired, but more importantly, I want to do something amazing, beautiful, inspiring, profound, to create an outward ripple of beauty, or deep thinking, or something worthwhile. For a while I was afraid that the act was so cheezy and unremarkable as to be boring, barely entertaining, not to mention not inspiring. And it may, in fact, be that for some people (can't please 'em all). The other day, though I had a great experience while performing: LIVING A LITTLE GIRL'S DREAM tuesday 27 june So one day while on the ladder I noticed a little girl in the front row who was looking up at me with amazement. Perhaps she waved at me, as children often do, or perhaps I just saw her face and gave her a smile and a little wave. Throughout the act, she had eyes only for me. Apparantly she was ignoring the other showgirls AND the trapeze, because EVERY time I glanced down, she was gazing up at me-- with a look of wonder on her face. In addition to being moved by her unwavering attention (who was it that said that the greatest gift you can give someone is your attention?), I felt something else. I saw myself in that little girl. I saw in her face not only awe, but a desire to do it herself, to climb that ladder in a costume and swirl, flourish, hang, and smile in front of an audience. I mean, what FUN, to climb up high, hang upside down, and have somebody spin you! And to get a lot of attention for doing something so fun... what could be better? I'd smiled at her lots during the act, and gave her one last wave during the “compliment” at the end, before running out. She made my day. I wish I could have seen her after the show, to thank her for her attention, to encourage her to follow her dreams. As a little girl I believed in my ability to climb stuff, but didn't believe life would take me that way. For years, I thought I had already missed out on the opportunity to do whatever; I had this vague feeling that it was too late, that I would have had to start training earlier, to be any good, to be successful. I also knew that I lacked a certain daring that I would need to be great at any type of performance. While there are certainly varieus thresholds where it really does become “too late” for some activities (no rhythmic gymnastics career for this human being), mostly this was low self esteem, and not knowing how to make things happen, not daring to go for it. Slowly and gradually I have gained confidence, daring, and skill. The ladder act I do may amaze normal people, but aerial performers know it's not that big a deal. But, now that I've begun to be able to do stuff on silk, the world seems more open to me. I know that I have the ability to train myself to have at least a decent silk act if I stick with it, and the grace and performance savvy to make it pleasant and/or interesting as well. Sometimes I wonder, “If I'd started real training earlier, could I have....” (already done such and such), but I don't dwell on this; I have made my way as I have. I did not become a virtuoistic performer at a young age, but I learned other worthwhile things along the way, and my life has felt at least moderately adventurous. I've had many moments where my life so amazed me that I felt that I was living in a book or a movie; that is a good feeling! I like my life to be a story, exciting to live, worth sharing with others. Of course, everyone's life is a story.... but mine has been an exciting story enough to keep me happy so far. “Souffle le vent, froler les cheveux, bonheur est une balencoire en feu. Souffle le vent, froler les cheveux, malheur est un chemin creux.” --Malicorne (French folk music group) rough translation: “The wind blows, lightly blowing the hair, unhappiness is a worn path. Blow on, wind, caress the hair, happiness is a swing on fire.” Malicorne lent weight to this thesis of happiness and unhappines by titling the album “Balencoire en Feu.” It was one of the few CDs I bought during my junior year in Bordeaux; on the cover was a woman on a swing, her hair and red dress blowing as she leaned back into the swing... I love the image that lyrics, title, and cover art all evoke: swinging through life, braving the fire, feeling caressed and cleaned by the wind. Tonight we go to Falmouth, on the outskirts of Boston, which I believe is as far north as we're gonna get. After this we work our way back to the NYC enviorns, to play Staten Island July 10-13. GETTING SCOLDED FOR BEING FIT AND UNINHIBITED :( 28 june 06 Monday afternoon on my way out of the office, the owner spoke to me: “Do me a favor, would you? We got a complaint because a customer with kids in the car drove around the backyard, and saw you doing yoga in shorts, and thought it was indecent. Just do your yoga in the tent, or out of the way.” What a sad thing, that some people are so repressed, and so out of touch with the sacred beauty of the human body, that to have a clear view of the lines of someone's body while they exercise and stretch is indecent to them-- offensive enough to complain about! Look, repressed people, if you don't want your kids to see circus performers warming up, then don't drive around the backyard of a circus right before showtime! It wasn't even as if I was in a bikini (though nothing should be wrong with that, either!); I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt! Fer chrissakes! Current Mood: ecstatic Current Music: wish I had more music in my life these days (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, June 3rd, 2006
12:08 pm	RETURN OF THE YOGA MAT! Sat 3 June, Kingston, NY Ever since my well-loved burnt orange yoga mat disappeared from my doorstep a few weeks ago (in Gaithersburg, the DC suburb whence the Kims left), I have been letting myself suffer from lack of yoga, unable to make myself work as thoroughly, often, or long without the accomodating surface and ritualized Place the mat provides. Metahara observed: “Of course it disappeared; you had just demostrated that you were too attatched to it. It was karma.” She was referencing the episode where I let myself get really angry after some towners used my yoga mat to make walking over a mud patch easier for themselves. I always had the feeling that Nacho took it, or that talking to him would be the key to getting it back. Sill, though, I was in no hurry to talk to Nacho. (My loss, apparantly.) Well, I have no proof about the first half of that intuition (he denies it), but the second was right on. Early this morning, 8am, I was walking around with eggs, beans, and oatmeal stashed in tupperware in my purse, trying to find Quirky when she wasn't in marketing training so I could give it to her. I failed in that mission, but when I was behind the concession wagon (where Nacho works), I heard techno music coming from the cab of the truck where the Kenyan acrobats and Peruvian clowns sleep. I walked around do the drivers side to find Nacho chilling out, and felt joyous enough to let go of the old strange stuff, and just say hi and talk about music. After a while, I asked him if he knew where my yoga mat was. “Is it that color?” he asked, pointing to my purple parka. “No, it's orange.” “I think I saw it in 44, folded up in the back with some stuff.” “Really! Which truck is that?” “The generator truck.” I thanked him and headed off to find the generator truck, estatic not only at the prospect of retreiving it, but also that my intuition had been right, and pleased to see the lesson the interaction illustrated for me: Letting go of “Stuff” after having tension with a person, making the effort to open up and be friendly, will bring rewards. Obviously they won't be material most of the time, but receiving something so obvious as a physical object that I had been seeking reminded me to just let go of whatever tension isn't comfortable, and receive the reward of living with more emotional and psychological ease and flow. And what better illustration of “less tension” for me than a yoga mat? Another example of this is the other night at Camelback when Sredder and I fought over something stupid (built up annoyance about communication tones, basically), and I went to the brewery (yum! Real beer!) ahead of her with Michael and Theo, and sat there stewing in my anger and frustration, unable to let it go even though I said I wanted to, until she came in a half hour later, all happy, came and gave me a hug from behind, and declared, “I love you and I'm sorry! I hate it when we fight!” “Me too! I'm sorry and I hate it and I haven't even been enjoying myself here even though I tried because I was so upset! Thank you for being the one to apologize first, it's really fortunate that you can do that, because I'm still learning how.” At lest I could respond with grace, even if I didn't initiate. “Jane is really helpful,” she explined. What is it that sometimes makes me hold on to tension, refusing to be the one to apologize first? Not wanting to admit I'm wrong must be based in fear. Fear of not being right... why is that such a big deal for me? Clearly it is not as bad to be wrong as it is to refuse to admit error and fix things. Perhaps the "fear chain" goes like this: being wrong will make me less respectable and therefore less loveable? As in, if I am not doing the right thing or behaving in the right way, then I am a less dependable person, both for myself and others, less good... and sometimes it *seems* easier to insist one is already right, than acknowledge that one isn't, and work toward being so. Any-Way, I climbed into 44 with anticipation, covering my left ear to block the roar of the generator, and there was my well-loved mat, dirty (again) but safe, folded on a shelf. I retrieved it with joy and gratitude that I hadn't lost it permanantly, and went back to Nacho to thank him, remembering my suspicions that it had been him that had taken it in the first place, but not letting them frustrate me, or make me mad at him. It didn't matter much (except to my curiosity!), now that I had it back. We chatted a bit more about music. I borrowed a CD (Spanish/French/Arabian singer Ishtar Alabina), and promised to burn some music for him (Syd Gris, of course. Every time I've offered music to someone here, it's been that... Ihope you're glad about that, Syd, if you're reading this). Eventually I asked him right out if he took it in the first place. “I didn't take it. What made you think I did?” “You were strange to me, and no one else was.” “I am strange to everybody.” Finally I confronted him with my belief that he's been lying to me about calling me, and played him the voicemail that sounds like him. He said it wasn't him, and that other people have voices that sound like him. Now I'm not sure. I'm not convinced that either of us is right; it really sounds like his voice, saying in a voicemail exactly the same things he'd said to me other times in person. But if I'm right, it means that he's lying to my face, and that is really creepy. But who else would call me and say those things? Plus, the fact that similar messages (both voice and text) came from different numbers makes me suspect that he was using the phones of a couple friends or whoever to try to mask his identity. I mean, why would 2 or 3 people I don't know call and text me multiple times over the course of a few days, with very similar messages every time, and then stop and never call or text again after I confronted Nacho about it? The simplest explanation seems to be that it was him, using different numbers, and then he stopped when he realized that he was pissing me off, but couldn't admit it to me, and now won't admit that he lied before. The idea that he's calmy lying to my face disturbs me, and I certainly admit other posibilities, but right now... I don't know. I'm tired of thinking about it. Does it really matter? Does it matter if I'm right or wrong about this? But I'm curious! Will knowing change anything? Yes, -knowing one way or another- would make me feel more at ease around Nacho, because I'd have a better idea what's going on, and what to expect from him. Well, I may never know, I suppose. I'm releived and grateful to have my yoga mat back, and I'm glad I went and spoke to Nacho with friendship. Current Mood: grateful Current Music: Panera's easy jazz (6 Comments |Comment on this)
10:37 am	STILL FEELING THE LOVE! Tuesday 30 may, Fishkill, NY: Camalback Ski Area, apparantly one of the most beautiful lots all year! I am blessed with good friends!!! A college fencing buddy has been following this blog, and the circus route, and called me up today to announce that she's coming to see the show and visit on Sunday! I'm thrilled! I haven't seen her since we were both visiting SD a couple years ago. Yay! This afternoon in the office it was really slow; I had a great conversation with a RS friend, and finally wrote ClearEyes an E-lovey note. He “requested” this before I left in typical good communication fashion: by telling me I better not innundate him with flowery love emails. He said something about it again on the phone recently, which made me think again that he did in fact mean the opposite of what he says, so I finally wrote him a brief email. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, May 25th, 2006
12:14 pm	A month + of journalling! April 18 through May 24 Obviously, I haven't had an internet connection in a while, so here's a bunch of entries at once. Tuesday 4/18/06 Driving with Rosie... Cafe Del Mar on the stereo, the woods of North Carolina streaming past in the darkness. Beautiful run this morning; I took Shredder and Victor (half of the Russian teenage brother juggling-on-horseback act) back to the wheat fields I'd discovered yesterday, and we discovered a nice little lake and all sat by it and meditated. So great!! Then I did gentle yoga (at Erin's suggestion), got lunch, went to work (yay for the new, more humane schedule), and was in a great mood! Mark had bought a cheapie stereo at walmart for the office; haleilujah! Back journalling: All the way back to the third town, the first in Georgia, that run the first day: I ran along the road, thru semirural neighborhoods, always towards where there seemed to be more trees. On one of these small semirural streets, with houses on one side only, I found some bushes covered in beautiful flowers, and felt called to sit in front of them and meditate. I hesitated; sit in the street? What would the residents across the street think if they saw me? But I sat down, happy to be desiring to do so and to have found a beautiful place to entice me so, a bit of nature within running distance of the circus. I don't have much experience with sitting meditation; I have only done it sporadically, and it still feels somewhat new. So let myself sit down with no expectations; giving myself permission to get up anytime I felt like it, and run back to get lunch. I stayed there, I forget, 45 minutes or an hour. I was missing lunch, and I didn't even care. I wasn't still the whole time; my rear stayed planted, but I did some slow shoulder roles, stretching, and other quiet moving into my shoulders and upper torso, with breath. This proved quite fruitful, opening old stuck stuff, and contributing to a good mood for the rest of the day. I also sat still. Towards the end, gazing at a drop of water on one of the flowers, I started thinking about the everything-is-one concept, and saw the droplet as a metaphor. Darn, I wish I hadn't waited to long to write about this; it's elusive now. Oh yes, an image of my physical self, this body that's 90 whatever percent water, as that drop of water on the flower of my being, and the flower as the energetic components of my being... Then I looked at the flower on the bush in the soil connected to the ecosystem and the rest of the world, and thought of myself in a web of material and social and energetic connections.... it was a really fun moment. Afterwards, I ran on down the road, and found an old playground, and beyond it some kind of swampy, bayou-y type water, and a view across an open expanse. I felt like I'd discovered something wonderful, felt so glad to see water. I've found water on each of the last 3 or 4 runs; I'm looking for it consciously now. I crave it; even if it's too small, dirty, or whatever to go swimming in, I feel cooled and cleansed just to sit by it or do chi gong by it. Recent runs: to the New River, three times, and then (a second run in one day!) to see the place that Victor had found when trying to folloe my directions to the New River place. It was an old wooden bridge over a creek, beautiful!with a reservation on the other side. I walked across the bridge and into the forest of small trees, and sat for 5 minutes. So nice! Then I had to run back and put my costume back on to walk in the finale. I felt sneaky, sly, and adventurous, fitting in a run for my pleasure (as opposed to for a workout or for theraputic reasons) between my performance, prepping my room for the upcoming trip, and walking in the finale parade. Sometimes I do have good time management :) News of the week: I can juggle!!!! Not well, and not for long, but I can make three balls go round in a circle for 30 tosses.... that's a beginning! And I only started like a week and a half ago! It's so exciting. I'm motivated to do it a little every day. Other news: so Michael the Kenyan acrobat and I have some chemistry. (If we get together, will my family refer to him as “Mike The Third”? Since they called Mike P “Mike The Second” :)) It was a hot afternoon at the fairgrounds in Jacksonville, NC, a beautiful grassy lot with trees all around. I was hanging in the Wheel of Destiny (it lays down outside the tent after Briman's spiderman on the wheel act) and stretching. I was wearing my old but still sexy orange striped stretchy halter top, a green skirt, and the orange floppy hat, wearing my orange plastic sandals. Theo walked by and said he wished he had a camera, it'd make a good photo. Michael arrived across the way by clown alley, and was watching me. I didn't care; I felt good. He waved to me; I was tempted to go over and say hi, I wanted to talk to him, but hanging on the wheel and stretching felt so good, I didn't want to leave... I thought, if he wants to talk to me, he can come here. There's no hurry to get to know each other; we'll be working together for 8 months. So I continued exploring all the ways to stretch my shoulders, and twist, and hips, and all, while hanging, and after a few minutes he sauntered over and leaned on the wheel to say hello. It was hot. The weather was hot, we were hot, our chemistry was hot, we knew it, and we were enjoying each other's company. I thought, this is some obvious flirting, right by the back (main performer's) entrance to the tent, we are telegraphing to everyone who looks over here what's going on, and this is a small village. And then I thought, oh well, that's okay, I don't mind. I feel known, and liked, people are friendly, and if I end up hooking up with this guy, and everyone watches it happen, and knows it's going to happen before it does, well, that's okay. The only thing that isn't sexy about him is his teeth; I noticed that when I thought of kissing him, and the teeth gave me pause; they're not the whitest teeth, it made me wonder about his breath. Drama at a Strip Club Later that night, though, the teeth were cleaner. It was Saturday night, and like 15 people from the circus went to a strip club that was within walking distance of the club. Shredder and I walked there with Michael and his brother Amos, who has a crush on Shredder. O, it was fun! And O, there was some drama! I got (moderately) dressed up for the first time, all in silver and black, with silver eye makeup. Craig was like, “Hey, you clean up well!” I thought that was funny, since he sees me in much more makeup on a daily basis. The club was fine; neither snobby nor skanky, on the classy side of friendly. I threw ones, flirted with Michael and others, and kept an eye out for a sexy dancer that I could pay to dance for Fernando, my ladder setter. Twice a day I greet Fernando as I begin the climb up to my ladder. While I do tricks on the ladder up top, Fernando holds the bottom of the rope, stabilizing it for me, turning it this way and that way according to the choreography, and finally spinning me at the end. It's not easy; every time he breaks a sweat. I want to do something nice for him, especially since I know that he hates doing it. Finally I find the perfect dancer: a petite, flexabile brunette who not only has sexy moves, but also a genuinely friendly smile AND actual dance technique training! I track her down and give her a lap dance fee and a good tip, and am standing by the VIP room waiting for her to return from checking in with The Man (club management) so that I can lead her to Fernando when who should saunter up but Nacho (short for “Ignacio”), the dude I spoke to once who then decided to obsess over me and -according to our mutual friend Mark- occasionally “stalk” me (cruise by my room to see if the light is still on, obtain my phone # sneakily after I'd refused to give it to him and call or text me at 2am). I'd been friendly at first, but found that I had to be abrupt almost to the point of rudeness to get Nacho to back off. Anyway, Nacho comes up to me in the strip club and starts telling me again how he's just trying to be my friend, and I'm about to tell him how I don't feel treated like a friend, I feel uncomforable with his behavior, when Michael comes up, to Nacho's obvious irritation. Then the dancer comes back, so I leave the boys to talk to each other, and lead the lovely lady to the lucky boy. After I introduce them and send them off the the VIP, I return to Michael and Nacho... to find them arguing. Nacho has apparantly told Michael not to come up to “us” (Nacho and I) while we are talking. Michael is mildly irritated, at Nacho's weird and rude demand, but (I am pleased to see, since I couldn't see myself dating a hothead) staying fairly calm and very polite. I tell Nacho that my friends can come up to me any time they want, and that he needs to be all right with that if he wants to be my friend. Nacho keeps going on and on about his weird social ideas; I repeat my boundries and walk off. We all separate, I go talk to everyone else about whether to leave and go to another club or not, then go outside to look for someone. When I get outside, Nacho and Michael are arguing, and Craig or someone is trying to calm the situation. It seems surreal. Am I the reason these men are arguing? I feel strange. I ask Kelly the ringmaster what's going on, and he makes some comment about me driving the men crazy. I'm like, “What!!?!” then Craig comes up and is like, “Don't you know that you're this hot redhead that everyone wants? You should know that.” “What? Stop!!” I almost shouted; I was embarased. (Why did this embarrass me?) “Come over here and talk to me,” Kelly interjects, and Craig turns back to talk to the guys, so I do, with relief. Kelly asks me what had happened, and what's been happening with Nacho, and repeats stuff about people being attracted to me, adding, “I like you too. I probably shouldn't even say anything, but there it is.” I had known this; I'd sensed it, and Mark had confirmed it, but it didn't bother me at all (the way the Nacho thing does), because Kelly is chill, and polite, and easy to be around. “I don't think that my presence out here is useful,” I told Kelly, “so I'm going to go back inside. I trust that you'll keep an eye on things.” “Why does everyone always asks me to do that?” he replied. “Alright. See ya.” So I went back inside, still feeling strange. Interesting how affection and interest can feel so different from different people. Strange that they could cause conflict... although let me not confuse things here: it's not the affection that's causing conflict; it's the bizzare, unwarranted, and inappropriate jealous behavior. Laternote: Sunday 14 May I'm finishing the last part of this entry more than three weeks later. I've been going on the assumption that the Nacho thing was behind me. I confronted him about getting my # and calling me, he lied to my face, saying he never had it, which is obviously untrue, since I have a voicemail with his voice in it. I asked him to please leave me alone, and I suspect that Kelly may have told him that as well, and he has. So here I am tonight sitting in Craig's van and writing while I wait for my sleeper, and who should come up but Carlito, the new clown who is the most fabulously cuddly and and playful-sexy person here. He flirts with Shredder and I (more with her), but I think he and Rosie are developing a thing. I ask him about Rosie; he is politely evasive. He is about to leave when he pauses: “I'd like to talk to you tomorrow; this friend of mine asked me to do him a favor, and talk with you about him. He likes you, in a good way.” “You're not talking about Nacho, are you?” I querry. Carlito raised his eyebrows with faint surprise, then nods. “I don't know what happened, but he told me a little bit, and wanted me to talk to you on his behalf. He is my friend, for many years.” How funny that this should come up just when I'm writing in my journal about it, I think. “I'd love to hear about it,” I reply, “And talk to you about it as well.” I am actually looking forward to some illumination about this situation, as well as to just having mellow hang and talk time with Carlito. [to be continued later] *********** Ignorance and Disrespect in Lynchburg, Virginia (Wednesday nite 26 April) A large thunderstorm crashed across the circus just before start time, with waves of rain and wind that made the ticket office shake. I was glad to not be in the tent. I thought of my yoga mat, which I'd left on the grass near my trailer, and was pleased at the thought that it was finally getting a shower; I'd been trying unsucsessfully to leave it out in the rain for a while. After ticket selling was done, and before putting on my costume, I happily went to fetch my clean yoga mat –only to discover that some ignoramus towner had taken it from where I'd left it and put it on a patch of mud, and people had walked on it, grinding mud into both sides. Now, I probably shouldn't be so attatched to a material item, but I've had this mat for three or four years, taken it with me everywhere, put in hundreds of hours of practice on in, laughed and cried on it, etc. I did my yoga teacher training on it. It represents a sacred space, a place of therapy, healing, and spiritual practice. This probably just demonstrates how far I have left to go in terms of spiritual evolution, but seeing it put in the mud and trampled un by ingorant, inconsiderate audience members made me irate. I picked it up, threw it on the ground by my door, and swore loudly. “Behavior very appropriate to a yoga teacher,” I thought as I did so, frowning inwardly at myself, but I was so mad I didn't care; the heat of anger bubbled up and overcame my rational, calm, good behaviour self. I had to go right away and do the show, and as I walked over, I groused to Blaze about how ignorant this country is, saying I give up, there's no educating it, I want to move to another country. I didn't believe it even as I was saying it, but I was so disgusted, and wanted to vent. I didn't smile during the dance, and though I tried to make myself smile at the people below me during the ladders, it was more of a grimace. I was even guilty of giving my section a dirty look after my “compliment” (that's a circus bow; you just put your arms up to acknolwedge the audience). How immature How unprofessional; it's not even that likely that my section had many (or any) people guilty of trampling my mat, and if any of them noticed, they would just be confused. To finish up my temper tantrum, I went to Kelly the ringmaster, and said, “Do I have to walk in finale tonight? I really don't think that I can smile at those people.” I told him what happened. He was sympathetic, saying, “Yeah, the towners here are lame. Don't worry about it, you don't have to walk if you don't want to, sweetheart.” He is so nice. I was grateful to have some sympathy. I let myself pout on up to the field between the lot and the parking lot. I squatted in the shadow of some trees and let myself cry a bit, not caring that my mascara would run. I thought, “Of course this lameness would happen in a town with the lovely name of Lynchburg.” Finally I was like, “I must be PMSing! Jeeeeeeeez, girl!! Get ahold of yourself!” Bad news: the owner told Mark to take the stereo out of the office; apparantly he was afraid that if we listened to music while selling tickets, we would make more mistakes. He is so clueless! We are more friendly and more on when there is music to break the monotony of the job. Music really helps us to keep good attitudes! But, clueless or not, he's the owner, so what he says goes. Erin listens to her I-pod or I-river or whatever; I'm actually considering getting one. Every time she hands it to me and says, “Listen to this song!” I feel so uplifted. Harrisoburg, VA and the Shenandoah! Wed/thurs 26-7 April Follow up: Valery was going to a laundromat, and gave me a ride. I washed the yoga mat, and it came out fine! Now it is really clean; yay. No harm done; drama for nothing. Perhaps I need to find better ways to vent my stress. Thursday morning I had my first real expidition: Roy, aka Profossor Kno-Y, the advance marketing clown, drove me up into the Shenandoah National Park and along 40 miles of Skyline drive. So nice to get off the lot and sightsee, and to be in nature!! We took a walk down to a waterfall... so cleansing! At the Big Meadow giftshop I bought postcards, a mousepad with image of trees, apple candy I haven't eaten yet, and a book, “Who Pooped in the Park?” for Hanna and George (the SF kids I used to babysit). Hmm, seems I dreamed about them last night (Saturday night), too Weekend in Prince William, VA: Fri-Sun 28/29/30 April Writing Sunday morning. I had wanted to get a ride into DC and go to the Smithsonian for a morning, but of course that didn't happen. I stayed up late Thursday night after the drive, so Friday morning I slept late, Saturday I was sick so my stomach, today I decided to take it easy, sleep late if necessary (I didn't). I'll finish writing, meditate/yoga for a bit, go to the mall, rehearse the dance with the Kenyan guys and David at noon. Hopefully—that's an ambitious shedule. So Thrusday night Rose asked me to find another ride because she wanted Carlito, the charismatic new clown, to ride with her, so I went with the Kenyans. I ended up driving most of the way. When we got there, the other guys walked across the parking lot to Walmart, and Michael and I were alone together for a while. I was finally feeling relaxed (heehee), and put my feet in his lap. Eventually he got the clue and started massaging them, and finally I was able to relax a lot with him. I need touch to feel really comfortable with someone, I'm re-realizing. Physical, non-sexual touch before anything else. We talked about that and other stuff; it was good. He's a cool guy. We kissed lightly, he walked me back to my trailer. After he left, I saw Mark across the parking lot, and ran over to him, mostly for the sheer pleasure of running, which felt good. I love flirting with Mark because he pretends that it grosses him out (maybe it does, what do I know? But I have the feeling he doesn't care, he just likes to make small drama for amusement), plus we bullshit with each other. Why is is so much easier to do the fun-BS game with gay people? Anyway, we walked to Walmart. Confessions from a hippie-ish, San Franciscan leftist: Bless me, Mother Earth, for I have sinned: I have become a Wal-Mart shopper. At first, it was just because there was rarely an opportunity to shop anywhere else. Then I started to be grateful to Walmart for surprising me by carrying few key unexpected items: mangos, avocados, Earthbound Farm organic mixed greens, organic kiwis, and organic soymilk.... not to mention WATER. (We buy our own drinking water.) I bought at Walmart the first pair of stretchy jeans that fit me well; they're the most comfortable jeans I've ever owned! Now I go there and shop, and I'm tempted to really shop American style, and buy things of questionable necissity. They're so cheap.... I totally grossed myself out on Walmart this weekend. I went with Mark because I needed water, and spent $40 on I-can't-even-remember what. Oh year, makeup (which I need for the show but could get elsewhere) and rechargable batteries. I went again the next day to drop off film, and bought some art supplies, 2 magazines (Scientific American), and a two-pack of disposable cameras (will I ever go digital? I do love prints).... and I'm still going back today: to pick up my photos, to buy a rice-cooker, and to buy mugs for everyone in the office so they can stop using styrofoam cups. Buy, buy, buy. It all seems so useful, and affordable. I can buy nice mugs for *everyone* in the office, with metal inside instead of plastic, because at Walmart they're $4 instead of $9.... Walmart is there, in every town, and every time we play a mall, there's one nearby, so that's where all the Circus folk shop. Plus, you can get all kinds of different stuff there, it's so convenient and cheap... ...Because half the goods come from sweatshops, because they pay their workers shit and don't give them proper health care coverage, because they're evil corperate bastards! I know all this, and I still go there. Before, if ever I saw a Walmart (a rare occurance), I felt revulsion. Now I feel a strange mixture of revulsion and relief. I still dislike what Walmart represents about American culture and economics, yet it is easy to satisfy (a narrow yet important margin of) my needs and desires there... Have I gone to the dark side? Does shopping there and feeling mildly guilty about it, pretending that in my circumstance I have no other option, make me any more conscientious than anyone else who shops there? Well, I guess it means I'm more aware, and thus even more guilty... What appropriate pennance is there for an American consumer? Romantic Freakout So Michael had the munchies, so even though our sleepers had arrived, we went to hang out in the Mombassa Troupe minivan to eat the sandwiches we'd bought earlier (he at 7-11 during the drive, me that morning at the first real cafe the other Cali kids and I had found in weeks). I was excited to have an apetite for the first time after several days of stomach weirdness. After we chowed, we started chatting. I was stating my boundries around safe sex (i.e., any sex we have will be safe sex), and he was like, “Why don't you want to get pregnant? You don't want to have kids with me?” I was like, “Duh! Are you serious?” and, “Whoa, are you out of your mind? Hello, we just met each other!!” although I didn't say it in those exact words. Incrdulous that I was having to explain, I said, “I'm living life here! It is NOT the right time for me to have a kid.” “You can have kids and still perform, and be fit and slim and everything,” he replied, “Look at some of the other girls here.” I couldn't believe my ears. “I am neither financially, emotionally, nor psychologically ready to be a parent.” I tried to explain. “What do you mean?” Michael asked. “I am not yet emotionally mature. You know it! You saw me get mad at the cooks when I was sick and they ran out of oatmeal and I didn't get any. That was not the response of a mature adult.” [We'd talked about that incident, and he'd suggested that I apologize, and I had.] “Yes, okay, you're right, but you are still a good person. I like you how you are.” I was flattered and pleased to be accepted that way, but also freaking out that he would be that open to me without really knowing me. I mean, clearly he feels that he has a good sense of who and how I am, but I think he's wrong; I think that there's a lot he doesn't know about me, some of which he wouldn't be comfortable with. On a certain level I feel like compared to the mainstream I am a freak, too outrageaous to fully reveal without social repurcussions I am not willing to face everwhere. Here I am not yet, not with Michel, not with the circus in general. It is coming out, but a bit at a time. Anyway, I think that if he knew everything relevant about me, he would not want to be with me long term and/or have kids with me (or I with him). I don't think we're suited for each other in that way. We're Mr.and Ms.Right Now. So, the conversation bothered me. We finally talked about other stuff, and it was good. Then I got out of the car, and literally RAN back to my sleeper, freaking out on the conversation. Was he suggesting CHILDREN, with someone he barely knew?? Does that mean he has low standards, and opens up a lot to the first, nice, pretty girl he meets, meaning he's easy, meaning that I'm not really that special? Even as these thoughts came, I was thinking, “What a weird chain of psychological 'logic.'” I mean, sure, I thought about the whole longterm/kids idea a bit too; even if not seriously, it does come up briefly with everyone I date. Usually I take a look and dismiss it pretty easily. So I've thought about it, and for a bit actually looked at keeping the option open, but recently haven't been feeling it. The next day I told D,B, and E about it.... They were like, “Eeeew.” Sunday 13 may 06 Driving from Gaithersburg, MD to Fredricksburg, VA The Kim family left today. I willl really miss them. Watching their number in the first show today, I was surprised to notice that my heart hurt a little. Their absence will be a hole; nothing here will exactly fill it. Iam also sad for them to leave the circus and return to their mundane jobs. Victor flipsburgers at a Sonic, Vlad is a grill chef (and dishwasher?) at some whatever restaurant, Luba delivers pizzas. Delivers pizzas! Jeez. Such talanted people, and their mundane jobs are so unskilled.... At the same time as the saddnes at their departure, there is joy at having found new friends. I truly feel a bond withthem, and desire to keep in touch, something I don't feel at every departure, every goodbye. We'll see what happens. I got gifts for them: A Tshirt for Vlad (“10 reasons why video games are better than girls”), costume jewlry for Luba, and books for Victor. I also gave Victor some pastels today, after discovering that he likes to draw. And this evening, after the show and the goodbyes and pictures, Victor came and gave me three of his nice jugglng balls! The ones he was using in the show! (With their red, purple, and silver shiny fabric still on them!) What a fabulous gift!! I'm so stoked. Erin and I brainstormed, and decided to give Victor The Alchemist and Siddhartha. On my own I got him my favorite translation of the Tao te Ching, the Ursula LeGuin version. Friday 19 may Ringling V. Cole Brothers... .....The Soccer Game! Today the Ringling Brothers soccer team drove 30 miles+ down to Dover. Deleware, to take on the Cole Brothers “team.” They beat us solidly, 5-1. We'd never practiced together, though. About 20 performers, workers, and kids (to watch only) from Cole Brothers assembled at around 11am, piled into the cabs and backs of pickups, and drove to a soccer field. I was the only girl planning to play. I was a bit -but only a bit- shy about inserting myself into this male arena. “Are you going to play football?!?” asked Lana, the truly beautiful Ukranian semi-diva, with a look of surprise, noncomprehension, and distaste on her face, when she saw me dressed in shorts and running shoes like the guys. That didn't phase me much; she seems pretty traditional. I was shocked and disappointed though, when Blaze -of all people!- suggested that perhaps I should let the guys have their “guy time.” I had no intention of excluding myself from a fun athletic and social event because of the vauge possibility that some guy might be less comfortable due to my participation. I mean, soccer—the everyone sport! I love soccer! I played my entire childhood, until I moved off to college-- 9 years! I was never an amazing player, but I've scored my goals, and I'm certainly solid enough to hold my own in a pickup game. We kicked around a ball to warm up; I was glad to do so, since I've barely touched a ball the last 10 years. I think the last time was last June, when the high school I was teaching yoga at had an end-of-the-year teacher/student game (thinking back, it still surprises me a bit that I was on the teacher side—am I already that old and mature, to have taught high school?). Fun fun! Soccer is good for the soul! No, I certainly wasn't about to deprive myself of that, by bowing to archaic, sexist ideas about sportssand gender. Jeez, encountering sexism today did affect me; I'm still working it out, by writing about it. The gius were halfway okay about including me; although they seemed (barely) warm about the idea of me joining them, I didn't get subbed in until almost halfway through the second half, when it was clear we were going down. Perhaps it wasn't jus sexism, though... neither of the two American guys got put in until early in the second half. Everyone else, except for Michael the Kenyan, was from Central or South America. Most game talk was in Spanish, which the two Brazilian also speak. The level of play was pretty good. When I finally got a chance to play, I noticed that the game felt different than the games I'm used to; there was less midrange passing; the ball moved short distances in a flurry, then spurted to a new area, then stayed there a bit. I'm arobically out of shape; after only a few hard dashes up and down the field, I was feeling it. I clearly could benefit from getting back to running. It's been 2-3 weeks since I ran; I was bleeding, than sick, so my tummy hasn't wanted to run. Now, though, I feel better; I need to restart that habit. Abwork, too; I'm off that wagon as well. Anyway, it was lots of fun, and I look forward to the next time we play. I hope to have an opportunity to practice kicking around a ball a bit before then. Today I was remembering a magic moment I had while practicing -alone, for some reason- at Kit Carson middle school in Sacto. I was working on kicking the ball into the goal, from a decent distance. There was a moment when I realized that if I looked at the corner of the goal, looked at the ball just before I kicked it, then looked at the place I wanted the ball to go just as I kicked, it would go there most of the time. Wow. That feeling of capability, it felt so good. I want to feel that again. I also must admit, I've still got a bit of a chip on my shoulder, a desire to prove that a girl can play well. Today is a Friday, but we moved tonight, instead of last night, as usual. The unexpected perk of this is that since Saturday will be a setup day, we won't have the normal 1:30 show! To make this a superperk, the Ringling Gold Show is only 10 miles from where we are (Elkton, MD), AND they have an 11am show... and since one of this morning's soccer players was the manager, we'll acutally get official free tickets, instead of being snuck in the back door by someone's friend, as was the old plan. So, like 20 people are going to caravan to see the competition/ cohorts in circusland. So fun! I'm really looking forward to it. In addition to the camraderie aspect, I need the education. Here I am a performer in one of the most traditional circuses around, and I haven't seen any traditional circus since I saw Ringling Brothers at age 10 or so. I need exposure to the form! Sunday The Ringling show was fun and enjoyable, especially since most of the performers from our circus were there. It has much higher production values then our show, which was nice. It also has an overarching style that runs through the show (the Ringling style), which was sometimes a bit overly cheerful and bouncy. “Ringling is too Disney on Ice for me,” said Blaze, who is introducing the masses to Radiohead by way of her trapeze act with David. Afterwards, we all hung out, and a bunch of the Ringling performers came out to say hi. The Flying Neves were with us last year; for some reason people seemed to know the highwire performers, as well. Tom the clown and I had hit it off at Theo's house two nights before, and it was fun to see him. Later that night the Neves, and some other Brazilians hosted a barbecue, and a bunch of us went back over. I rode over with Andy and Valeri. When we got there, everyone was speaking Portugese, Russian, and Bulgarian.... I was relieved when Tom and (eventually) Barbara (a concession lady who I'd also met at Theo's) came by. Tom and I talked about circus life, how we got into it, etc. He asked if I liked the circus lifestyle (I do), and if I'd do another tour. I said that I would if I was doing something more interesting than then the showgirl on a ladder act, i.e silks. He was very encouraging about everthing, and suggested that I find one thing I like and do it every day. Classic advice. It's hard to work on silks every day what with all the travel days, but I'm inspired. I was grateful for the mentor-y vibe from Tom; it's really nice as a fledgling to have an old hand take an interest, share stories, give advice, and be generally friendly and great. Tom invited Barbara and I back to his BUS for a taste of some cake his mom had made. Barbara showed me her room on the way; it is so big and nice in comparison to our lodgings! Everything at Ringling seems to be newer and nicer than at CB... but then again, the Ringling performers have to fit their acts into the Ringling coperate style, do Ringling choreography, etc. B said she wouldn't work for them (or Cirque du Soleil); she feels it would compromise her artistic independence too much. “So you want to be an aerialist,” Tom said. “Do you know anything about the history of the form? Do you know about any of the great aerialists of the past?” “No,” I had to admit, “But I'm interested in learning.” “Good,” said Tom, “Here, flip through this.” He handed me a 25 year retrospective of the Big Apple Circus, which is a NYC based circus that is widely known as “the artsy circus.” He was a clown there before Ringling. I flipped through, looking at pictures and listening to Tom and Barbara. Barbara is an interesting character; she was a lontime circus fan, and worked at a circus museum in... Wyoming? One of those northern states with low population. She met a ringling... showgirl? I can't remember the exact story, but somehow at almost fifty she was offered the opportunity to run away with the circus and work in concessions, and she jumped at it! I suspect that the friendship of Tom and Barbara is based on not just on their apprecition of the circus life, but also their interest in and knowledge about circus history, circus as an art form, and the cultural function of circus. Needless to say, I was quite interested in talking to them, and grateful for their warmth and their sharing. So I told Michael that I need to take a time out. Talking to Metahara was a catalyst for the conversation with him. There had been a dynamic of him wanting mo