I Danced

Sunday, 7/27, was Open House at Djerassi.  Once a year they invite the public to the property for hiking and artist presentations.  300 people (the maximum) showed up and wandered the grounds, packing into performances and gobbling down pizza made by Dan (our amazing chef).  There were about 10 plein air painters from the local community scattered throughout the property painting the beautiful landscapes they saw before them.  For my presentation I danced both of Pireeni's poems that I had choreographed, and did a few short improvs similar to what my dancers did recently - I handed out slips of paper and people wrote what they desired on them.  I put them in a big bowl, drew out a few one by one, and then improvised on what was written.  Imagine this one:  I desire unlimited sex with multiple partners with no social consequences.  That was a doozy!  I haven't performed in public for probably 20 years and surprisingly I really enjoyed myself.  The poems spoke to me and the improv was great fun.  As I danced I remembered the feeling of every part of my being coming together - body, mind, emotions, spirit - this is what I always loved about it.  As I danced I felt my spirit rise above the audience and settle on them in a benediction of gratitude. 

 

My Spot

I believe I have found my favorite spot on the Djerassi property. Cube in Redwood Stumps by artist David Nash, set amidst the forest.  It is so peaceful here, enveloping one like a golden-green cape with brown threads strewn through.  It feels old, but there are new shoots pushing through the dirt.

I have come here to read one of residents artists, Pireeni's, poetry anthology Indivisible - contempoary South Asian American poetry.  Why don't I read poetry at home?  I think it's because you can't read poetry fast, you have to chew it slowly and like a cow re-chew it to find it's essence or even to find some meaning.  But it's succinctness and brevity is refreshing - just enough cool to water to slake your thirst.  And no more.  You have to slow down to the cadence of the words, even if they trip and slide quickly you have to be able to catch and hold them.  Poetry for me isn't life in the fast lane and that's probably why in my no-time-for-many-things everyday life I don't read it.  But here, it's a gift that I'm unwrapping with care, taking pains not to tear the fabric of the language.