The Empty Studio

I began choreographing solos this way. The theme wasn’t there, the title was far from being known, the room was empty. The only grounding I had was in an inner voice that had something begging to be shared. In that I trusted. It would, inevitably, begin the journey of creating, leading me through moments of insight, clarity and excitement at what was emerging. At other times through mountains of struggle, where I would get stuck in the mud and often need some outside help to pull me through (or at least get me off the floor, where I’d inevitably end up lying, staring hopelessly at the ceiling). The help always arrived (though, it has taken me years to realize that and trust in that process now). The dance would be completed and the terror and thrill of performing it would send me on that slide of emotions that come after the applause, with the descent of post-performance vulnerability and emptiness. Like the strange quiet after a much anticipated storm and you’re left standing there exhausted, wondering what to do from there and what was all of that about anyway? We all have these moments, in different ways, don't we?

And so, I begin this blog.  Unclear, yet, as to what it is I am embarking on, with only the passion of putting down into words what insights and questions arise as I explore how to live with greater presence and ease, more compassion and kindness, and how to remember to tap into that renewable spring of wonder and inspiration. But, there are a couple of differences between what I used to do and entering this new, empty studio. One is that I have learned to be a little calmer with the “not knowing” process. Not knowing how something will go and actually enjoy not knowing or, at least, struggling to be okay with not knowing. The second is that while I will still deal with the aspect of vulnerability here (how can anything of value come without this?), I won’t be dealing with that post-performance day at the amusement park crash. In fact, this will be the opposite, an enjoyment of a continued process, with no big climaxes to recover from. It will, instead, hopefully, remind me what is important and echo the way I aspire to live. To stay in the process and not rush through it to some end or award that we ultimately don’t get to take with us anyway. And, I’ll get the gift of sharing the process with people who choose to participate in the dialogue. What a gift that is!  I hope you will join me on this journey if the content sparks a place in you that asks similar questions and I welcome you to share yours. I do believe, more and more as I get older, that to put into words or art or some form, the experiences that wake us up and enliven us, we strengthen our ability to tap into them more easily and more abundantly. Thank you for walking with me. Our first path in the woods will be coming soon.