A great gig yesterday...at MacEwan University

Lusting for fluidity
Lust/lʌst/ Show Spelled: a passionate or overmastering desire or craving. ardent enthusiasm; zest; relish

Fluidity: the quality or state of being fluid, as in a substance, that is capable of flowing and that changes its shape at a steady rate when acted upon by a force tending to change its shape.

Life is about movement, and the more fluid that movement is, the better...moving through thoughts, moving through emotions, moving through experiences in our lives.... just simply moving. Everything in life is in motion. Change is the constant.

Sometimes however, we get caught in mental and emotional whirlpools, causing a downward spiraling action. We often don't know how far we might get pulled down or for how long. Nor is there anything wrong with getting caught in these whirlpools. They are inevitable in life, because they ARE a part of life, just like whirlpools are part of the ocean.

Sometimes, I guess we just need to take a REALLY deep breath, remember to wear a great pair of flippers, and when we surface, to readjust the point on the horizon we were swimming towards.

In oneself lies the whole world and if you know how to look and learn, the door is there and the key is in your hand. Nobody on earth can give you either the key or the door to open, except yourself.

~Krishnamarti

A Great Gig...

Apparently in yoga,
there is an area in our bodies that can not be reached or "opened" by any yoga position (asana). It is located in the centre/middle of our back and is referred to as the dead space. I recently experienced a sharp pain in that area on my back and intuitively felt that it was relating to something beyond purely a physical result of the chair I had been sitting in. So, of course, like everything, it leads me to question the correlation that has to my life.

I think our lives themselves, each have a dead space in them... a place that can't be reached or stimulated by our regular, daily life. I am not sure if the essence of that space is the same for everyone or even if its consistently the same throughout our own lives. One thing that I feel it could be related to though, is the need for connection...the need to feel desire and to feel desired. We are social creatures and even with the varying degrees of intro/extroversion, the boundaries of committed relationships and the cultural expectations of behaviour that go with them, that particular need lies within all of us.

In yoga, the only way to stimulate that dead space area in your body is to have someone gently tap that place on your back with their hand. Apparently that experience then ignites the area, bringing it momentarily alive.

Perhaps our lives need that same gentle tapping sometimes,
for us to experience being completely open and alive.

Falling into passion...Passion is intoxicating and thrilling. It can also be extremely unsettling and frightening. Allowing ourselves to fall into it, whether its creative passion or physical desire is not always easy. It reminds me of the game we used to play at summer camp called "Trust". In the game, someone would stand behind, with their arms ready to catch you. You would then have to close your eyes and fall backwards. Allowing yourself that feeling of free falling, before you felt the relief of their arms, wasn't easy, at least not for me. It threw everything I instinctively desired; balance, stability and solid footing out the window.
Creative energy makes me feel that same way.

When I feel myself passionately drawn to something, its not always initially clear why I need to go there. Rarely does it seem justifiable to invest the time and energy pursuing something more, especially when that pursuit gets in the way all of those things I "should" be doing.

But something always entices me there, and it inevitably takes me where I needed to go.

The game of Trust, became easier, with practice. The more you did it, the more you were able to believe that there was a place you would feel safe again. Following your passion and creative energy is exactly the same.

Having an sensual experience with art...
It is no surprise to me that the word passion is used by both artists and lovers. To me, creative energy and sexuality are very similar, if not even the same energy expressed in different ways.

I used to live with my art studio. We were really good together. Our needs were always met— late at night, occasional afternoons and sometimes, spontaneously in the wee hours of the morning. There were long, leisurely art sessions spent together, or sometimes just quickies... you know, five minutes before I had to be somewhere else. Often, first thing in the morning, I would wander in there, all rumpled and sleepy, just looking for my coffee cup and the next thing I knew I had been seduced into painting.

Well, about 8 months ago, my studio moved out. It was an exciting, mutual decision for us to live separately. I would have a living room back and it would have a beautiful, larger commercial space for us to make art in, conveniently across the street from the school my kids attend. It was perfect in every way....or so I thought.

The thing is, lately I have started to notice issues with this "long distance" relationship. The spontaneous moments that the studio and I used to share (and deeply enjoy) have been replaced by a relatively routine, planned and structured schedule. Suddenly I find myself late at night, craving...aching actually, for creative expression and there is nothing but my computer to satisfy me. Or alternatively, I find myself at the studio routinely in the morning, after dropping the kids off at school and I'm thinking about the groceries I need to get...not even noticing the gentle whispers, promising pleasure and pure creative expression.

I am not sure what to do. I do know that every relationship has its complicated areas and sometimes it just takes time to understand how to work these things out.

In the meantime, I think I am going to sneak some paints home...just don't tell the studio.

She used to drag her mattress beside her low window and lie awake for a long while, vibrating with excitement, as a machine vibrates from speed. Life rushed in upon her through that window - or so it seemed. In reality, of course, life rushes from within,
not from without.

~Willa Cather (1873 - 1947),
The Song of the Lark

Tonight I stood outside my studio, after teaching my class and watched the moon rise. I am addicted to the moon. I always have been. I mean, of course I deeply, intensely love the sun. I need it...the light, the warmth, the unfailing trust that it will always be there, even when I can't see it sometimes because of clouds in my sky. It provides everything I love and desire.

Everything of course, except for what the moon provides.
The sun is my mate, the moon is my lover.

Maybe in part, this feeling comes from always having been a night owl. Even as a young child I would stay up late into the night...seeking something. I am sure I drove my parents nuts (just like my night owl children do to me). Still, I can't help but feel that the moon is more like me—a kindred spirit. The sun is steady and unchanging, reliable and consistent. Where as, every single night, the moon is slightly different, marginally more evolved in one direction or another, a fellow traveler.

And every single night before I sleep, I tell my secrets to the moon...