Even though I knew that this would take a lot of work, I thought that was purely physical: something that could be realized with time and practice.
I did not even think of how I would constantly be facing myself. The pure resistance of my mind.
Constant repetition gets frustrating pretty quickly--and I didn't realize how lonely it would be. Just me, having to get over all of my preconceptions of what I SHOULD look like, and recognize that it takes at least a thousand reps before I could even climb with a perfect pike.
The mind is the killer.
In other news, my handstand is crooked because of my shoulder, and I can barely do back-extensions without pain in my lower back. Time to go see a physiotherapist, I believe. Get myself straightened out.*
*heh. heh.
I did not even think of how I would constantly be facing myself. The pure resistance of my mind.
Constant repetition gets frustrating pretty quickly--and I didn't realize how lonely it would be. Just me, having to get over all of my preconceptions of what I SHOULD look like, and recognize that it takes at least a thousand reps before I could even climb with a perfect pike.
The mind is the killer.
In other news, my handstand is crooked because of my shoulder, and I can barely do back-extensions without pain in my lower back. Time to go see a physiotherapist, I believe. Get myself straightened out.*
*heh. heh.
The reason why we love circus: we are constantly redefining our own limitations, of time, of space, and of our physicality therein. We can walk on strings--balance on the head of a pin--almost fly. To redefine one's own limitations, but if we are living, hard pressed up against the limit, molding ourselves to it for years, we grow bound by the arthritis of this constraint.
ReplyDeleteAll humans live well under the means of the body's ability. We walk around jacketed and belted with ideas of normal, accepted. It takes a loathsome force to break free (and without technique is impossible). But circus frays the belts and tugs at the buttons each time you meet the friction of the constraint. We are artists. No artist is pleased, the yearning to stretch, break and torment our own limitations makes us wipe our tears, and keep bleeding for circus.
“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique.
And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable it is nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open.
You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you.
Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive.”
~Martha Graham to Agnes de Mille
Excepts from my Toronto, please keep in mind that I was 7 years younger than I am today. They are unedited:
“February-
O’ Carthaginians, of Cannae you collected less rings than I of tape, golden with rosin, on my fingers. With ringlets, tacky, and armlets of Tenser wraps and bracelets of Ace bandages, we stay in willing bondage; we are enwrapped for and enraptured with searching for equilibrium. I adorn myself with a rosary of tears, each droplet another trophy in its own rite; tears not of contrition but wept by a body when the mind is no longer enamored with Work’s effort, each bead merits another nod of appreciation. We are bejeweled by the Stigmata of Circus.”
“When the body is pushed so hard physically, everything becomes an abstraction. Your emotional state is suppressed or else the stress would be too unbearable. Everyday I have been putting my body through harder and harder tasks and that part that worries weather you’re happy or not just keep getting put farther and farther away. You live an abstract life. Everything because an abstraction.”
I remember crying and I didn't realize it. Not until I felt the tears on my chest. My body was crying.
To Genevra:
“If you were to kiss all my wounds, as you have said before, you would never get past my hands.”
“So here’s the story, kid runs off to train in the circus arts in Canada but realizes how much he misses everyday life, adventure sure is nice for a short time but he really wants to go home. He’s not an adventurer, he’s not an artist or epic lyrist, he’s a boy. He wants to go back to his girl.”
In Le Gourmand:
“June-
With such stress put on my body and mind, having to concentrate so hard, I come here to decompress. To listen to the light jazz, the deep baritone voice blurs the outlines of those going to and fro and sinks into my muscles where it rests undefined. The syncopated beat makes their steps awkward in its evenness. The people around are not outlined by their shapes”
More to follow if I find the other journals.
ReplyDeletethank you.
ReplyDelete