This was my summer of loss. It seems that I could not escape it. Loss was everywhere. I found some peace by immersing myself in dance. It was time to figure out what the difference between the meringue and salsa is, how to make a Western two-step look believable, and finally how to make the Bhangra your friend. I learned some tough lessons, like the fact that I am not nearly jaunty enough for swing, nor am I as enthralled with tango as I once thought (after one too many close embrace tangos.)I was relieved to realize that I have been dancing something closely resembling the meringue quite naturally since the age of five. To me it was a nameless hip sway that would just seem to seep out of my child frame and later it would prove to be a wondrous gift that would let me slip into tribal dance lines around the world without much of an effort.
In this summer of loss, I also had to face the fact that far too many other facets of my personality had been lost in an entirely different kind of shuffle. I had lost quite a bit of myself in the ever present pressures to be too much of a teammate, or more specifically, a support system for others. So what to do? I holed myself up and put myself in a self imposed quarantine of sorts. A lock down that would help me to remember the self that ended up on the bench somewhere along the way. Many got mad at me for looking after myself, as they had grown very accustomed to not being supportive when I very much needed someone not to crinkle their nose when I discovered something I loved or may have been good at. I didn't hear anyone say "good for you," well, except for me. I said "good for me" sometimes when I let myself focus on what my lost dreams are. I had surrounded myself with cutthroat competitors that had given up on their dreams, so they were not too happy to learn of my return to mine. What can I say, it happens to us all at times.
I could blame NYC, my food allergies or the struggle to live your artistic dreams that may be overwhelming at times. It could be the fact that I weaned myself off coffee, soy, wheat and dairy in a knockdown drag out battle to figure out what I should be eating. I could blame my shyness, the %$^%ing Starbucks monkey that was very hard to shake, maybe the excessive number of over 100 degree days in this NYC summer, or possibly blame myself for not being a better judge of character, or simply the fact that I see so much potential in others that I overlook the shortcomings that they possess. But then again, I could just blame no one and nothing and move along with things, and so I have.
The hard thing is really focusing on your dreams when you haven't really been able to fully explore that option in sometime, if ever. Coming to New York put me in a survivalist mode, but it appears that I have become too adept at handling crisis and as a result I have selected jobs and relationships that all involved crisis management of some kind. I have developed the bad habit of helping others too much, and if I step back and really take a good look, I don't find many others offering the same reliable nurturing advice. So what is the result? The well runs dry, and instead of waiting for rain, you must build a new well.
Today's wet,cool weather brings out my creative spirit and the urge to cook has returned (as expected) along with the urge to write. Food and creativity are one for me. As I write tonight, I munch down a steamy bowl of vegan coconut curry using every color vegetable in the farmer's market. From yellow wax beans, to purple eggplant, red peppers and green and orange heirloom tomatoes. It was so rich and tempting that I let the eggplant overcook and become a rich stew and forgot all about cooking the rice, just eating the buttery curry like porridge.
So, it is with a very full belly that I write tonight, just before hoping off to the market-yes shopping after 8 on a Sunday in NYC- to complete my gluten free peach mystery desert. I feel rested, nourished and calmed by the weekend of creativity and reflection. I have made the time to upload two submissions for a video festival, revisited some chapters in Jackie Battenfield's, The Artist's Guide, edited some videos that I can now see in a new light, added a few of my murals to my website (while reminding myself that I am a muralist) and redesigned/ordered some new business cards (reflecting the fact that I remembered that I am a muralist.) Overall, a very grounding weekend of creativity that will prepare me for yet another week on a Federal Grand Jury and so much more...
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