road rage

Before I launch into my tale of the mortifying road rage that afflicted me last summer, and how that story, somehow, is going to wind its way back to dancing,

I  wanted to say THANK YOU to the Citizenry of Boulder who came out on the first night of Passover to see Goodnight, Courtney Love in the Leisure Pool at The North Boulder Rec Center.

It was amazing to see you all there, and to then get your incredibly constructive and valuable musings about the work.

Some of your writings made me tear up, some made me laugh out loud, and some made me scratch my head, stare out the window, and think about your words for a long time.

This is exactly what Laura Ann and I were hoping for:  a dialogue within our community about the process of creating a work in an unruly and uncontrollable environment.  

And we wanted you all there, right from the beginning, to see the work unfold and occur over the long haul.  

And now we are in it with you, for the long haul.

I can’t wait.

The next showing will be sometime in October of 2015. 

I’ll keep you posted.

So.

Road Rage.

This is what happened:

I was driving, singing along to the CD in my stereo, which happened to be Krishna Das signing Kirtan chants about love and peace and joy and happiness and radiance and exultation for all beings.  

I’m chanting along, enjoying myself, when someone cuts in front of me.

Within seconds I pull up next to him, turn the music off, roll down my window, flip him off, and squawk at him in an incomprehensible and unrepeatable tirade.

Then I roll my window back up, turn the music on, and continue chanting Lokah Samastah Sukino Bhavantu, which means May all beings everywhere be happy and free.

WHAAAAAT????

I know:  totally crazy, deranged, and nutty as a fruit cake.

That poor guy, I’m sure he meant no harm.   

He was probably just late to work like I was late to work, all of us just trying to get to where we needed to be.

So, dancing?

What does this have to do with dancing?

I have no idea.

Except, maybe it has something to do with listening.  

Not just listening to the chants of love and peace and joy, but listening to our bodies listening to the chants.

Listening to the vroom of the car, listening to the way our elbows hang down from the steering wheel, the way we look out the window at the stop light, the way we check to make sure we have our clothes on properly.

(side story:  I was so late one morning, I jumped out of bed, put my shoes on, kissed Glen goodbye, and got in the car.  I was backing up in our driveway, ready to head to town, when I happened to look down and saw I had no pants on.  Just the t-shirt and underwear I had slept in, and the sneakers I had slipped on.  I ran back into the house and bumped right into Glen, who was holding my pants up by one finger, sipping his coffee and reading, waiting for me to notice that I had forgotten my pants).

I honestly don’t know how this story of road rage relates to dancing, or creativity, or imagination, or embodiment at all, except to say this:

I wasn’t embodied at that moment, or connected to my creativity in any way, even while singing along to these chants of peace, I wasn’t tapping into anything when I got cut off, other than a raw and vicious rage that was divorced from imagination, creativity, magic, and compassion.  

So, the take away from all  this?

I sheepishly want to say, that actually, that type of rage is the very foundation of creativity.  

The very foundation of imagination, embodiment, and innovation.  

Because it it powerful, and it is crushing, and it is merciless.

And if that power, that crushing power, is held, and reframed, and embodied?  

If that power, that crushing power, is occupied with integrity and compassion?

If that power, that crushing power, is grounded in generosity and big-heartedness?

Then what would happened?

That’s what I wonder about sometimes.

If we flipped that type of rage upside down and accessed the breathtaking strength of it rather then the viciousness of it, then what would happen?

Is that what a revolution is?

Is revolution too big a word for it?

If so, then what is the word?

As always,

I would love love love to hear your thoughts about this, and any stories you might have about road rage, or any kind of rage, and how you were able, or not able, to flip it on it’s head in a way I could not.

With Warmth and Jivey Vibes,

Joanna

of

Joanna and The Agitators

ps.

The adult dance classes just started up again this week and WOW, it has been amazing.  The beauty of the human body in motion, and in complete attendance, continues to astonish and astound me.

The Tuesday class is full, but there is a spot left in the Thursday class.

Email me if you are the one who wants to take that spot.

xo 

joanna