Meet Me at the Watering Hole

  I’ve been thinking about resting lately.

No, that’s not right.

I’m haven’t thinking about it, I’ve been doing it - resting, I mean.

Because I don’t have a choice right now.

My body taps me on the shoulder and says: “Enough. Now it’s time to rest.”

My mind stops thinking clearly and that’s it, I’m done.

After a few hours of going, I can’t go any more.

Which is WEIRD.

I only had the chicken pox for goodness sakes.

But that’s what’s happening, and so I’m noticing.

Noticing that there is a little bit of hidden relief, and dare I say, Glee, in this demand from the part of myself that was ill, to do less.

FYI:

That’s a secret, what I just said. I’m not telling anyone but the beagle about that hidden, gleeful part of me that is grateful to be doing less, so let’s keep it hush hush for now.

It’s been kinda great to wake up, have a slowish sort of morning, go to town to teach The Anatomy of Improvisation, and then come home and finish the work day slowly, with breaks and walks with the beagle.

And it’s been amazing to teach again. The people showing up, the dancing, the conversation, the willingness to dip into this illusive art form, to see, feel, and notice where it all leads…it’s been magical.

A student, Christine Crotzer, wrote to me right before I got sick with the chicken pox and said:

"I have often thought of class as an interesting gathering place, almost like that of a watering hole. A place, where us humans, we can gather and nurture and take care of ourselves-shedding the rules of society and returning to our true animalistic instinct. Grooming and stretching...moving and playing- without the mental rules society places upon us. Just as we are. As animals are."

It's been wonderful to be this slow throughout the day, like an animal, making her way down the mountain to the watering hole.

But it’s disorienting and uncomfortable too.

I’m not sure where I am exactly.

I’m not sure what will happen next.

I’m not sure if this is enough.

I’m not sure how to sustain this level of rest and ease in the reality of this world and all that goes along with it.

All I know for sure is that it’s time to amble down to the watering hole, and take a drink with the other animals.

It’s time to paw at the earth.

It’s time to dig a hole.

It’s time to scratch my hide against the nearest tree, and nuzzle into the herd.

It’s time to shake everything off that isn’t in my animal nature, and then make my way back home.

Your dance mission for the week is to do a dance that is initiated from your bones.

And then do a dance that is initiated from your hide.

Here is a song to get you started.

Here's another.

Notice how it feels.

Notice your breath.

Notice if you paw at the earth, or dig a hole.

As you know, I love hearing your thoughts, experiences, stories, and ideas.

So post a comment here.

And if you liked what you read, share this newsletter wherever and with whomever you wish.

With Warmth and Jivey Vibes, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending