Physical honesty

In high school I had a job at a hot tub retail store as a grunt worker. I would help deliver hot tubs, and do minor service repairs, freezing my hand to a metal circuit box in the harsh midwest winters from time to time. I really did enjoy this job, I learned so much from it, and my boss was great. I tell you this for some back story (I am so generous).

So there was one delivery where we had to crane a hot tub over a house to install it. We normally don't crane them because it is expensive, but it would have been far too difficult without it. We had to remove an old 8 person tub that weighed in at about 1000 lbs or so, and replace it with another 8 person tub at about 800 lbs. Its a lot of fun watching a ginormous tub swing like a pendulum above your head. Its like going to the carnival without the freak show (unless you're with a coworker who has short man syndrome and likes to call you gay because you dance, then its more like a freak show). The sweet thing about craning tubs in is that they are way easier to adjust so they land squarely and you don't have to break your back to push and pull it into place. 

As I was taking all of this in, I began to notice the tub was coming in slightly crooked. So I instinctually stepped up to make a minor adjustment at which point I realized that I had left my pixie dust at home that morning, falling through the hole in the deck, catching my ribs on the edge slowing my twelve foot descent of pain and terror enough for me to land on my feet.I literally hit the ground running, simply because in moments of great pain and/or shock I sprint as fast as I can. I don't know if its because I want to see if I feel an unordinary pain, or I want to distract myself from the pain.

And this habit makes me wonder if I do this emotionally, spiritually and intellectually as well... 

I chose this story to muse about ones whole "self", because to of the elements in the climax of the story forced me into a place of sincerity: Physical pain, and falling outside my control of gravity. It is much easier to see how fragile you are when these things happen to your body for the simple fact that we cannot conceal a flesh wound, or that we tripped. I feel that we (or I, but I really want to generalize) generally are much more disillusioned to the fact that we are just as fragile emotionally, spiritually and intellectually, yet it is much easier to conceal the wounds of those facets of our being. This question has made me look inside and see that I deal with all wounds the same as I do my flesh wounds. I sprint. Either in search of the source of pain, or in distraction of the pain. Just yesterday I was intellectually wounded, and my habit kicked into gear. But I noticed it and slowed down. Returning to that place, and feeling the wound. It scares the shit out of me to realize I'm that fragile, that I'm one. Whole. Person. Being. Human.

It is easy for me to objectify my mind, body and spirit (as well as others) into separate categories. Which I feel like I need to compare it to amputating someone's body and telling them to function the same as they did before. I think this is a big problem. We compartmentalize everything into non existence. We have very few things in society that are made to last. We are surrounded by brokenness. We live dismembered. With brilliant moments of sincerity, which I have been finding through movement. 

There are moments when I feel the most whole when moving (dancing (but I hate that term)), I have learned so much from other's physicality and my own. I process a lot of deep questions through movement, and I don't necessarily motivate movement with meaning I find meaning and a fraction of an answer through movement. Because I can be honest with my body (which isn't always enjoyable), and experience humanity quite viscerally through it. 

I created a duet entitled "Anathallo the Roses" , which was inspired by how dormant roses receive the nutrients they need to bloom in winter. So there are themes of being broken in beauty, shivering violence, and falling out of control. This piece was reflective on finding healing/meaning after being extremely broken in a romantic relationship. As this piece was extremely personal to me, I did not expect it to affect others nearly as much as it did. Especially my dear friend who performed it with me. One performance she completely let herself be raw in the motion. She allowed her entire self to be apart of the journey of the movement, the movement became honest to her, and her to the movement. I held her after she began to sob post performance. I was completely shocked by what had happened, I had never performed with someone with such honesty and beauty in their movement. And I just wanted her to be able to rest in the beauty she was created to be. The one she feared (at one time). Experiences like this give me hope for the journey that we're all on. To be whole, we will always be fractions of ourselves tethered to gravity, that we navigate with some skill. But we find something honest when we trip and fall.

I charge you to find the elusive moments where you can be whole, I want to encourage you in that. Don't objectify yourself into compartments. Be gentle with your bones, heart and mind. Like an infant. They are about as perfect as perfect gets on earth, and they are okay with needing community. We try a bit harder to do it on our own. But we're learning that we're not so tough, and hopefully listening to grace in the process.