And because memory does not fall away as plainly
as we want,
because it breathes, caught in a surge of water, it nets together:
copper dish, lumber yard, green glass jar. Three men caught
too, their hair a big whoop in the air, red as iron rust.
Emma Gorenberg is a lovely horsewoman and a friend of mine from the Vineyard. And today she is the poetry angel, unexpected because I did not know that she is also a brilliant writer.
I think it is the same with any performance. Dancing to the whole house feels diluted and a little vague. Dancing to this one, then this one, then this one feels intimate and engaged.
Almost one year ago I began this blog. Today is post #300, which feels like it deserves a HOORAY! I have been hugely encouraged in my blogging by the indefatigable, generous, kind Jon Katz, whose blog and life inspire me daily. I have been encouraged by my beloved Pammie, whose blog and passion inspire and delight. Maria Wulf is another bright light in my personal constellation of writing artists.
I chose the name horsedancing because it is the title of my (still seeking a publisher) book. But over the months of writing these posts daily, have come to see horsedancing as a life practice and a metaphor for being an improviser and an artist of dancing the moment, with or without a horse.
This is how I say it on the home page of my new website: At the core of my work is a passion for movement that springs from an unpredictable and limitless aliveness in the body. To me, being in the body means experiencing it in a bloodful, breathing way that is transformative and improvisational. I love diving into the deep waters of the body and all its wild possibility. My writing, dancemaking, teaching, coaching and the horses are all part of the whole cloth of my practice as a movement artist. My goals are to help people connect to their creativity, to improvisation as a life practice, and to their own delicious experience of embodiment.
I spoke to a writing teacher today who said that she thinks of herself as a “word coach.” I think that I am, above all, a “movement coach” or maybe a “body mentor,” helping others push deeper into a felt sense of themselves as creative, physically expressive beings. The blog is a part of that passion. Check out some of the other possibilities on my site!
Photo: Jeffrey Anderson of Paola Styron in FLIGHT
My friend, the beautiful dancer and aerialist Paola Styron sends me poems. This is her latest gift. She is the one who took me deeper into Rumi and Hafiz and whose dancing is like poetry – a thing of essential wonder and mystery.
Horses at Midnight Without a Moon by Jack Gilbert
Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods. Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt. But there's music in us. Hope is pushed down but the angel flies up again taking us with her. The summer mornings begin inch by inch while we sleep, and walk with us later as long-legged beauty through the dirty streets. It is no surprise that danger and suffering surround us. What astonishes is the singing. We know the horses are there in the dark meadow because we can smell them, can hear them breathing. Our spirit persists like a man struggling through the frozen valley who suddenly smells flowers and realizes the snow is melting out of sight on top of the mountain, knows that spring has begun.
