Author Archives: Paula Josa-Jones

Jun8

exposed

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IMG_1863Photo:  Pam White                Painting:  Gillian Jagger

Today I feel like i am out, exposed, vulnerable.  Launching our Indiegogo campaign did that.  Pushing the “launch” key was very nervous making — like a premiere, or a coming out party.  Interesting.

For the next month +, I HAVE to be on social media in a very active way.  Not hiding in the cracks, being careful, but really out there with my whole heart.  Asking for help.  Asking for money.  Soooo hard.

When I got sober 30+ years ago, I had to learn to ask for help.  For whatever reason, I am less good at that now.  Maybe then, this is good practice.

So here it is.  I need your help.  I have a big dream, which is to make and share Little Fictions, Ragged Memoirs, this beautiful, beautiful performance work.  It is the hardest and best thing that I can do at this time.

Please help me pull it off.

Thank you.

SHARE & EMAIL
Jun7

we are up and running!

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runningPhoto:  Pam White                      Hoofprint sculpture:  Gillian Jagger

 

OUR INDIEGOGO CAMPAIGN IS UP AND RUNNING! 

 

We just launched our campaign to raise funds for my new dance theater project, Little Fictions, Ragged Memoirs.

To make a donation, please

CLICK HERE

 

You can also help us by sharing the link with friends, on social media, and in any other creative way you think of.  We deeply appreciate your support and welcome you onto the LFRM team.

Over the next few weeks, I will be sharing behind the scenes stories about the project, how it started, and back stories about the creative team.

For today, pushing the launch button was a little like a premiere or a coming out party. . . take a breath, go.

Please join us!

Thank you!

 

 

 

Jun2

Jacob

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jacobPhoto:  Derrill Bazzy

He’s fourteen now.  My beautiful godson.  I have not seen him for nearly six months.  Too long, too long.  What is an autistic fourteen year old like?  Like an adolescent?  Like an autistic person?  I don’t honestly know.  I can only tell you about this fourteen year old, this precious Jacob.

Every day is different.  Every day has its own map.  In the maddening sameness of the “isms,” if you look, if you listen, if you are willing to be present, are the differences.  If you can see beyond the swing spinning, the ball juggling, the repeating topographic form of the surface behaviors, there are the differences.

Jacob is not the “isms.”  He is not the behaviors.  He is not the absence of language. He is, in part, to be found in the differences:  the little shadings of movement, engagement, sound and play that form the underscore of his day, and ours.  But really, he is not defined by those either.

Maybe this is why I love him and my times with him.  His cannot be captured by any definition or category, not even autism.  He is pure being, and to be with him, really with him, that is what we have to become as well.

Is it exhausting?  You bet. Humbling? Absolutely.  It is like sitting in meditation ALL DAY.  Rigorous, demanding, sometimes painful.  Because WE DON’T UNDERSTAND, not really, but we have to keep practicing, keep our bottoms on the cushion, so to speak.  Breathe in, breathe out.  This is his gift to us, and yes, ours to him.