Author Archives: Paula Josa-Jones

Oct22

up close, personal

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So today was my first day canvassing in New Hampshire. Getting up close to strangers who are voters. Making it personal.  It is not easy, standing at the door that is not opening, wondering if they are cowering somewhere in the house waiting for us to leave so that they do not have to HEAR IT.  Trying to calibrate the way you approach the door – friendly but not manic.

I am actually good at this. There are doors that I won’t approach, but not many.  Mostly, I want to make a connection.  I want to, as we say in the horse world, join up. Today it was raining, so we look very determined and vulnerable, which may open some otherwise closed doors.

We met one young man – a Hillary hater who wants “change.”  I didn’t ask it at the time, but I will next time. What do you actually want to change?  I am genuinely curious, and willing to listen.  I will let you know what I learn.

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Oct21

dance, body

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DSC00667_2Photo:  Pam White; Paula Josa-Jones in “Auf Dein Eigenes Wohl”

 

How do you think of dance?

Is it shapes?

Steps moving across a stage?

Or is it the body

steeped in its years

on earth?

Is it the body inseparable

from everything?

Are you dancing now?

If you are breathing,

that is a start.

Are you listening,

to the sound of that breath?

Better still.

Oct17

take heart

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I took this picture in New Hampshire in October 2012 when I was campaigning for Barack Obama.  This week I will travel north to campaign for Hillary.

In what has been a protracted assault of “noxious word spew” (Samantha Bee’s words – watch the Pussy Riot episode), I am feeling soiled, triggered, disgusted by the degradation of our discourse.  What to do, what to do? I need to handle my rage before I go knock on doors.

So here is some of what I am doing, in no particular order:

  • Getting outside to take in the astonishing color and the delectable, golden late afternoon light.
  • Breathing.
  • Watching The Voice (my guilty pleasure), and savoring the sister play of Miley Cyrus and Alicia Keys.
  • Lifting weights, doing deep plies, push ups, dancing to sweat – this is not really my usual protocol, but I need to cycle in some power.
  • Riding my horses and letting their softness and goodness come into my cells.
  • Not playing any podcasts that contain the other candidate’s name.
  • Making calls for Hillary in the evening.

Here is the thing.  I LOVE Hillary.  I love that she is human, that she is a fighter, that she has navigated the Class 5 rapids of 30 years of attack by a party defined by its ugly, entrenched misogyny.  I love her laugh, her compassion, her ability to listen, her willingness to keep going, her devotion to women’s rights.  I love that she speaks in sentences that actually make sense, and that she can respond her for to changing conditions and new perspectives (thank you Bernie).

So I am going to take my strong, albeit bruised heart in hand and go speak from that heart to strangers.  I am going to do my best not to take anything personally.  I am just going to put my head down and work.  I am going to do this with old friends from previous campaigns, and new friends that I will meet.

This takes a lot of courage.  I remember well the feeling of walking up to a door and not knowing what I would meet. It can be daunting, and in a climate of extreme political acrimony, it is downright scary  My model will be Hillary, who gets up every day and faces the crazy music. I will heed Michelle Obama’s words and go high to the best of my ability.

And I will be posting from the road.  So watch this space, and wish me luck.

 

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Aug16

feeling

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The other day, after our ride, my lovely 24-year old stallion, Capprichio, surprised me.  Capprichio is not a horse that you can touch casually.  He is often standoffish, a little cranky, extremely specific, and private.  Early on in our relationship he suddenly, efficiently and unexpectedly removed a diamond stud from my ear with his teeth and swalowed it.  I think he was putting me on notice.  I respect him, his space, which does not keep me from continuing to look for openings, to find that lovely touch that he will enjoy.

So the other day, after his shower, I began by finger combing his mane which is huge and thick and long (he is an Andalusian), falling from a massive crest.  He began to settle, drop his head, his eyes closing – a little dreamy.  So I kept going. Thirty minutes or so later (horse time is so very unpredictable), I stopped and began to leave his stall. I lingered in the door for a moment and he moved toward me – very clearly, “not yet”.  I put out my hand. He placed his nose on the back of my hand.  And stayed there.  For another maybe thirty minutes.  Little soft strokes, breathing, just letting go of time, or doing anything but being. He was leading, guiding.

Reciprocity –  being touched by what you are touching. It is so very hard for us humans to remember that  – to receive, to allow, to follow.  Capprichio is a Zen master. We have been together for over ten years, and perhaps I have just now become ready for this lesson.  Thank you, most beautiful.

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