Neon lights taser early evening shadows of the day
and dance off windows ever-reaching for the sky
Blazing, burnt orange sun makes its slow slide into the Hudson
Pours her liquid sunlight across the city spaces
between buildings, and down crowded streets, across the trafficked avenues
Something electric runs through the veins of life in the streets
The city, she feels more alive, more alight than before
That familiar ache in my heart
Lets me know I’m connected
To the truth of my life, to my soul
It’s where I sing from
It’s where I dream
From my heart, I can never go wrong
If you want to break open your heart (and your world) in the best of ways, go to clown school.
I just finished day two of a five week journey into the craft of the comedic world – the world of physical theatre, clown and Commedia del Arte.
I went to clown school once before, in 2014. It changed me and the way I live and act in countless, invaluable ways.
And I have taken a few clown weekend intensives between then and now.
But the thing is, you have to keep using the muscles that clown requires, or they atrophy. The wonderful clown you have freed from inside you descends further and further back into the recesses of your heart. Back into the darkness.
One of those clown muscles is enthusiasm. That excitement and wonder for people and things that give you pleasure, that make you laugh. That thing that males your eyes sparkle and your body happy.
That thing that gets bullied out of you around junior high (maybe earlier these days.)
That thing you learn to flatten to seem cool to the other kids.
The thing you learn not to show to protect yourself from ridicule.
The thing you betray in yourself out of fear of becoming an outcast.
The thing that gets beaten down into adult cynicism and suspicion.
(That thing you forget how to feel after while.)
It is a delicious sensation!
Day two of clown class, and I feel that muscle pinking up again. When enthusiasm is allowed its space to inhabit your body, all kinds of good begin to happen. And fun!
I double-dog dare you to find yours. Shake off the cobwebs and try it on for size. Take it for a walk.
It may feel a bit scary to let it be seen again by others. A part of you may be afraid and want to keep it under wraps.
I say: Go ahead. Be subversive. Be a part of the revolution.
Be enthusiastic!
So yes
I gallivant here and there these days
What’s it to you?
I’ve suffered enough in my life
Don’t intend to carry on that family tradition
Think it’s not possible?
Just watch me
Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt at Cyranny
Funny how a word comes in to the collective consciousness.
Yesterday, I wrote about the loss of The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt.
I said posting daily taught me that done is better than perfect. That sometimes I will feel “meh” about what I write, and that is ok.
I asked readers for help!
And the wonderful Suzi suggested Cyranny.
And guess what the word prompt for today was? “Meh!”
Which is how I feel about today’s word prompt.
Meh.
And here I am, posting anyway.
Because the power is in the doing of it.
I could judge myself out of ever sharing my voice, my work.
Or I can take the risk. Lay it on the line. No matter what.
So here I am. Day one post-Daily Post.
Feeling meh.
But taking action away.
(Or maybe because of.)
Today, I mourn the loss of yet another presence in my life.
I am bereft.
I have been working off daily word prompts for about a year that The Daily Post has generously provided.
They have given me an anchor to my days…especially helpful last year at this time when I was having to stay close to home much of the time for health reasons.
It helped me feel connected to the world and to my creativity to post once a day.
It ended up teaching me so much about creativity. About how just doing it is much better than trying to get it “right” or good.
It gave my perfectionism a real run for its money. I had to let each day’s post go, however I felt about its value.
Sometimes I loved what the word prompt prompted. Memories or associations I’d forgotten or never even known I had.
Sometimes I felt totally “dry” and annoyed at the word. Sometimes I’d be shocked when such a prompt led me to an unexpected and wonderful-to-explore place.
I learned to live with posts I wrote that I thought were total drivel. Posts I secretly thought were brilliant. Meh posts.
Thank you The Daily Post for this amazing year and all you have brought to my writing.
I get attached to things.
I’ve grown accustomed to The Daily Post Daily Word Prompts! I had no idea they were ending as of Friday!
I’ve had panic since realizing they were moving on. What will I do? How will I survive?
I have found wonderful readers and other bloggers to follow from TDP. I loved reading the myriad variations off a word!
I feel adrift, at sea. Alone in the great ocean of blogs.
To all of “you” out there: do you know of any similar sites?
I take solace today in Oleta Adam’s prolific rendition of “Everything Must Change,” which I hear in my head every time I lose a good thing in my life to change. She gets me through every time.
At least that never changes.
We have a tiger rug in our new kitchen.
Just because.
Many might think it, well, idiosyncratic. Or silly.
There are some design reasons it makes sense: he brings the right splash of orange-red that completes the adjacent dining room rug. And yes, it justifies the red knobs on the oven.
But perhaps more important than all of that, and perhaps less “important” and yet crucial, he simply makes us smile and brings us joy.
And so we have a tiger rug in our kitchen.
Just because.
Looking back now
It’s all crystal clear
I didn’t know it then
When we were “just hanging out”
But it was on
My heart was woke
(It just took the rest of me
Awhile to catch up)
You can break a promise
You can break a heart
You can break a creature’s spirit
Or a body part
But you can’t break a person’s soul
It can’t be touched by human hand
You may’ve broken me in most ways
But my soul you can’t reach or understand
If you were to juxtapose my insides with my outsides
You would be in for a real surprise
Does everyone feel so at odds with oneself
Or can some see and know themselves with their own eyes
Or do they, like me, feel disparate and lost
Can they not seem to match their within from without
Do they also look in the mirror and not recognize
The person they see who is looking out
Beyond the Skinny Branches 