Archive for the ‘pedagogy’ Category

thanksgiven&taken

November 22, 2017

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for the Eno People

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for the Eno River

a

for brokenhearted ignorance

b

part Cherokee?

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Occaneechi Band of the Saponi Nation

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about NC Native Communities

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Triangle Native American Society

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Thanksgiving/Thanks-taking and Privilege

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Rethinking Thanksgiving

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Eno Indians

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Eno Tribe

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missives from the playground

March 14, 2017

a

adult playground – in photos

child’s playground – in words

both true.

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how to make chalk hand-prints (best results when 6 – 8-yrs-old):

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get a friend to trace around your body sprawled on the asphalt/ground with chalk

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spend long time deliberately skrushing in various solid colors with huge sidewalk chalks; for clothing, hair, accoutrements, and skin of your silhouetted image [could take 20-40 minutes]

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lightly pat your open palms onto chalk colored self-portrait a couple three times

c

place hands firmly in an unchalked spot on the asphalt

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leap up into a handstand – after a breath, plant feet again earthward one at a time and stand tall [takes 1-2 seconds]

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there they are. bright colored hand-prints clear and detectable for all passers-by

b

2017 how to

January 3, 2017

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how to be with the messy in-between of

frozen-with-fear and taking action

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to be with the messy in-between of

my intentions and making big mistakes

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be with the messy in-between of

making big mistakes and results of my actions

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how to be with the messy in-between of

results of my actions and my intent

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sync to sink

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or

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sink to sync

p.s.

20 Questions for Memorial Day

May 30, 2016
  • How can you have your ideology and I have mine, and we freely enjoy common sources for food and oxygen and art and education?
  • How does our identity grow compassion? How does it grow conflict and war?
  • How can we allow creative co-existence for all physical and mental expressions/abilities, all genders, for all races, all religions and atheisms, all cultures, and for all organizing structures?12552820_1133990649959493_1479680752676447220_n
  • How do humans manifest religions and then ever become convinced that there is some ultimate source for beliefs?
  • What can be undone?
  • What can be done?
  • Why are folks not jealous when another is in trouble, in need, suffering, but jealous of another who is happy, healthy, enough?
  • How can my suffering be a remedy for all suffering?
  • How can precariat creative class organizers, in an effort to slow down gentrification, act with knowledge and respect that this struggle comes after communities of people of color have already been displaced?
  • How can a focus on my relative imperfections enlighten your ultimate perfect-ness?
  • How will our struggles over access to oil and water ever stir into enough?
  • Why does that uniformed human invoke a sense of relief or unease? Is it the cloth? The person inside the cloth?
  • Why is it predicted that soon we will see the right wing populist movement manifesting more government welfare programs?
  • How is not-enough-ing distinct from never-enough-ing?
  • How can we heal from scarcity driven capitalism?
  • How is this time of haves versus have-nots different from any other?
  • Why does perceived space seem to stretch time?
  • How does obscuration of our interdependence continue to be possible, even as the evidence of it gets clearer and clearer?
  • How are we convinced that consuming culture, romance, vacuums, and new shoes will save us?
  • How are these questions dependent on my privilege? My lack of agency?

    Anatomy of War Smith & Wesson by Noah Scalin

    Anatomy of War: Smith & Wesson           by Noah Scalin

  • How is another deployment or bomb going to teach children that we have learned from our history?
  • How much do health and happiness cost?
  • How can we honor the lost, the dead?
  • How is it useful to have an inhale and an exhale?

It is uncanny how these 3 different sources overlap in their clear awareness of what our challenges are and their ideas for what-to-do:

  1. incredible history lessons here (worth e.v.e.r.y minute 1:48:30), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZO2kXaVd5gc
  2. a lovely lengthy writing on queerness and polyamory, http://www.makezine.enoughenough.org/newpoly2.html
  3. a confounding and humorous display of understanding and compassion (57:47), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAvM3GTXRtc&app=desktop

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with your sp a c e today

January 18, 2016

what will you do…

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sing

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march

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cry

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walk

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scream

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grieve

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sigh

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rest

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act

rest, sigh, grieve, scream, walk, cry, march, sing, dance, act…

 

seeing Selma

November 12, 2015

devoting Veterans’ Day to breathing across the Alabama River on the Journey to Freedom (e. pettus) Bridge seemed a fitting way to honor all who have and continue to struggle for freedom…

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My nephew truly wanted to join me. I followed his lead and we spent 900% more time in 2 museums than he original planned! (Seeing those fists pulls my heart in my throat.) He and I were thrilled that my Mom wanted to come too...

My nephew truly wanted to join me. I followed his lead and we spent 900% more time in 2 museums than he originally planned! (Seeing those fists pulls my heart in my throat.) He and I were thrilled that my Mom wanted to come too…

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precise and wild – this nurtured nature of us

August 5, 2015

i am learning/perceiving/receiving

more and more

what DSCN3938

my gifts

are.

what i have to creatively offer

our whirrld

to possibly relieve any

one being

or maybe many

of some

any

suffering

any confusion

…some confusions.

as i become clearer

about

my selfhood

and what i might/can contribute,

this gain in understanding/perception/learning

is matched.

this wildness of me

is matched

precisely

proportionately

with understanding

that i will never

fulfill such dynamic exchange

of potentiality.

personal, institutional, and cultural/social systems

abounding

will  never

let me DSCN3937

fully express

and embody

and engage

my fullest potential.

i’m becoming okay with this/that.

i see

us all

precise and wild.

i see so many beloveds

and unknowns

whether with

resonant or radically opposing

views of politic/health/beliefs/etc

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similarly

in relationship

with being

such to sacrifice

that freedom for this boned limbed lunged heartmindbody

this freedom for that identity

that expansiveness for this love

this ideal for that humbleness

that truth for this gratitude

no wrongs no rights

i dive into investigating disability

and public assistance

and find

i am in a middle

haha

a place way

of neither

sinking nor swimming

… yet.

it is a privileged

terrifying

blessed

confusing

lucky

horrifying DSCN3936

unearned

identity-annihilating

affirming-of-transformation

unsustainable

undeniable-change

place

between

who is ill?

the system?

me?

both?

neither?

i glean any knowledges with this process

so to serve

and share

and relieve sufferings

of others!

hhhuuhhhh.

at the least, that.

go ahead.

chuckle.

laugh.

this can also be known as

a growing/evolution

past 40

into 40-something.

that is real.

that is happening for me this month.

…an agendered asexual genderqueer genderfuck approaching “menopause” is a thing.

with other “symptoms”

of other corporeal and subtle

body systems

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to boot…

i simply wish

relationship

upon

us each and all

…that we lean into relationship

with our own and others’ selves, beliefs, politics,

and ask

what does this/that depend on?

what does this thought/belief depend on?

what does that feeling depend on?

what do i depend on?

you!?

and what do you depend on lovie?!

~all/any credit for current conditions of perceived ground/brilliant sanity, knowing there isn’t any, and feeling terrifyingly exhilarated with such knowledge is interdependent upon my friend’s new book ~ xoxo

travel space-time

April 19, 2015

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blood on my face, blood in their eyes

March 18, 2015
rain.
falls.
hard.
burns.
dry.
a dream.
or a song.
that hits you so hard.
filling you up.
and suddenly gone.
~Midnight Radio

  i. was. the. chosen. one.

in 10 parts.

bah dhum Tsh.

.

for one show.  one night.  on Broadway.

.

what does that mean?!

choose your own adventure: skip to part XI to find out what that means…

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.

part 1

he’s the one

i was set to see the Broadway version of Hedwig again.

this time with John Cameron Mitchell(JCM) himself playing the role.

this time in a front row almost center seat.

ahem.

breathing through the palpitating.

.

part 2

a gift

i was in NYC for an early childhood education conference.  before i left home, i’d been too busy to hand-sew that neck tie i wanted to craft for JCM.

i found a school’s colorful brochure, some wooden coffee stirrers, a small piece of duct tape scavenged from the sound engineer at the conference, and a ball point pen – to make a gift for JCM. i made a mini paper quilt with a story about knees in drawings, words, and photos mashed up – a story quilt of healing from my 2 “damaged/flowing” menisci to his.

JCM is currently wearing a knee brace and has brilliantly hilariously altered the script to integrate his injured and older/wiser status. i am 3 weeks into acute PT for a knee injury that happened 10 years ago…

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.

part 3

go monastic it’s fucking fantastic

setting the “stage” here. you’ll see: standing in line, i was reading up on 11th & 12th century diaspora of Buddhism from North India into Tibet. and the over-arching shift from more inward study to external icon and ritualized ways Buddhism was made more and more accessible yet distorted for more and more lay persons. why of course i was.

.

part 4

settling-in

ok, so now i’m armed with the gift and my ticket.

i approach my seat and find it situated near halfway underneath the protruding stage flooring. Thank goodness eye level was about one inch (literally-if even) above stage height. otherwise there’d’ve been no view of so much happening up stage…

noticing proximity to the mic stand – i flashback to early 90s Ani Difranco dive bar shows. those days were the last and only times i identified as a fan in the true sense, in that i even could attend multiple shows, follow her around, always smush up to the front center, and get in trouble for getting too close to the star…

oh, i fanatically study and love on many artists and their works. but live shows are my thing. they are what truly help me wake up and identify as a living human. quite a mash-up for my crowd-avoidant-introverted selfhood and performance artist worshipping freakiness. i have not been able to be the live fan for the artists i most deeply admire/melt for…

so here this year i’ve been blessed and privileged and able to move Hedwig from a movie/cd kinda dream place to tangible reality! (whew. tangible. indeed. still giddy-silly-high 4 days later, any moment remembering the physically and socially awkward oh-so public moment.

.

part 5

impartiality

i’m in drag in my hoodie uniform, such as i always am. Audience community builds around my silent space. in my solo attendance, i wonder how much i can let go, cry, sing out-loud, express the way i ugly sob when listening to Wig In A Box or the film soundtrack at home…

i was ready in my anonymity to cry my eyes out, sing outloud etc… express. participate as i just don’t do in context of known others. not that i can’t, i just am quiet like that- energetically, emotionally, physically. of course some of you close family-of-origin and chosen-family members are laughing at me now; you get to see my drama-king-queen sides more easily.

Alone at home i naturally express a wider/fuller repertoire of emotion etc… That’s the kinda agendered asexual recluse i am. Alas, i thought i could i might… i felt a possible freedom this night to let go into the anonymity…

.

Some famous folks sit one seat over to my left – folks i don’t recognize, but everyone’s abuzz as to who they are. The couple to my right has seen Broadway Hedwig 30+ times. Many around have seen each actor portraying Hedwig at least once in the past year’s rock-n-roll-ness. i feel all humble and small and comfortable with my power of casting a leave-me-alone-to-my-experience wall around myself…

The show begins. Time moves. The 4th wall is broken quickly. Those interactive tropes of the show accumulate. Hedwig steps right on top of the head of the neighbor to my left. Spit falls on our half of the front row. A person way over on the house left side of the row receives the carwash. Another from that territory gets pulled up on stage as America’s Next Top Bottom.

It’s cool. It’s all good. i’m not having to fight my i-wanna-be-more-a-part-of-it-all / i-wanna-disappear demons. people are enjoying themselves, becoming more and more a part of it all for this night, this show at least. The energy is all… awakening. full. the sensory overload of such encounters are in the end always enough for me. more than enough. life-enhancing. revitalizing. i just know how i can easily come across as disinterested and disingenuous from the outside.

Yitzhak slays me per usual. Not sure whose pain ever eats me alive more, Hedwig’s or Yitzhak’s. i’ve made eye contact with all the actors and musicians. lovely. It is an intimate wonderful context.

i am not accessing the watery emotions. i am struck at witnessing JCM measure his body/cave, pushing and pulling softening Hedwig’s projection of voice and energy in turns. this is where my experience rests. witnessing the mastery of the artists. Lena Hall’s voice. Yitzhak’s forlorn gaze. ugghhh. i also cache some of this emotional distancing as response to how physically close i am! i can’t take in the whole postural humor and dismantling of identities in the way someone farther back can. i saw it that way the other time i came; of course that wasn’t JCM. but i’m finding my way in, to marvel as a lowly mortal receiving an inestimable gift from JCM/Hedwig hirself and the Angry Inch/Tits of Clay band members themselves!

.

part 6

blood on my face

and.

suddenly.

i. was.

f.ing.
french kissing JCM.
!!!
or.
s/he kissed me?
.
Hedwig seems the only and best time appropriate to ever never use “s/he.”
.
some call it the “triple crown” when they get the carwash, the spit, and the tomato ness.
i did not get the carwash.
i got tomato stains ample. 2 times spit upon.
and…
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.
part 7

I could swear by your expression that pain down in your soul

was the same as the one down in mine.

.

or.

.

part 8

why did s/he choose me?!

  • because i looked like i needed it the most
  • because JCM could see through my self-in-drag-as-self and see my 3rd/4th wave queer post-post-feminist non gendered performance artist self who ritualizes similar disrobing/dismantling of clothing, skin, identities – public bleeding literally – despite my inspirations not being JCM himself but artists he might appreciate: Carolee Schneeman, Karen Finley, James Luna, Annie Sprinkle, Meredith Monk, Diamanda Galas, Mierle Laderman Ukeles, …
  • because…!?
  • because I looked like I needed it the most
as a performance artist myself, i know those choices made precisely particularly to the very present audience of who to play with / off of. some moments it is the waifish needy looking sad case. other moments it is the one who looks willing, brave, open, able… verruh different presences/beingnesses that connect to how i as the performer am even feeling able to cull another’s energy in any given performative moment or exchange. there’s no simple one-way answer. what is not a performative moment? you are performing drag as your self – however you chose to dress/appear today!
.
oh the fantasies of self-importance. how JCM was gonna demand the online ticket seller reveal my email and reach out to me (via clues -that aren’t there- in the gift i handed him). and consult about pedagogy and all things contemplative embodiment. how young children teach us. and how i could support his management of physical and vocal energy. as if he needed such! neverminding that i witnessed him eloquently beautifully fluidly choosing to pull back and push forward with his vocal effort when perfect to do so in the character and story of the moment — and in the real knee pain compromisings i could detect. exquisite.
.
slip into your self-same shaped egomindheartbody mechanism and find those reasons you thinkfeelsayact your ways. you know at least the scape-space inside you, the same as the one down in me… where we keep our deepest sanest thoughtsecrets.
.
part 9
naiveté
i’d no idea what i actually looked like for hours after, as i sat in audience, waited in fandom queue, waltzed through the subway after 1am. i thought i looked freakish with some glitter and sheen all over my visage.
what a laugh, when i saw the bathrrom mirror at the seminary guest house i was abiding. i looked like – just like – i’d been kissed by a drag queen or some such. i looked just like i’d been French kissed by some heavy make-up wearing valkyrie. oh, the smiles and winks i’d exchanged with underground performers and subway folks waiting. i truly thought i just looked more queer/freakish with some sheen and glitter all over my head. inspite, i looked kinda sexual? active? available? or spent?! another layer of the hi.larity of the nightmorning and my ignorance as an asexual freak-thing.
.
dry cracked lips and all the smphwhaauhh marks around.
i’d chewed gritty glitter for hours after the kiss.
this. was. real.
this. happened.
to…
me?!
why?!
because i looked like i needed it the most
.
part 10
blood in their eyes
what still goads me is, 4days later, i still don’t recognize the depth of the laugh that leaves my body, when i remember how suddenly Hedwig’s/JCM’s legs were around me. i didn’t look up. S/he grabs the scruff of my hoodie and pulls me up into her/his face! there was the slightest non-verbal communication of: “Yeah. I mean. you. Yeah. This is happening. Now.” um. there were teeth and tongue and glitter was transferred. TMI. sorry not sorry.
.
i don’t remember opening my eyes until after. Yitzhak is glaring with stabbing defeat into my eyes into my colon. Hedwig is glancing with disappointment and requests Yitzhak to clear tomorrow’s appointments for more disappointments. me being disappointment #1. (i was already raising my finger high in the air – understanding my role in the scheme of things – belatedly remembering this play/line from the summer show…) what a rare true disappointment asexual agendered inexperienced non kisser me must have been for poor JCM! my contemplative lay-monastic Tibetan Tantrika self gritted glitter between my teeth for hours.
.
part XI

what does this mean?!

here’s what i learned about egomindbodymechanism after star-crossed kiss…
what does it mean that JCM chose me to kiss out of the shiney front row of stylized stylish wealthy and famous people that night?
i was seen.
for a moment.
that’s all.
that’s worth a lot.
for one who wishes for invisibility and death frequently.
it was validating.
i exist.
i am corporeal.
lovely.
intimate.
painful.
aching.
ripped apart and sewn together in my ways too.
literally. (which maybe isn’t the case for the hundreds of others JCM’s Broadway Hedwig has kissed and will kiss…)
among the throngs and thongs i’m nothing.
a speck.
tommy speck.
tommy gnosis.
.
part p.s.
i helped Hedwig lose the make-up and become self-knowledge and acceptance of self… or something like that.
and while i was outta town, my school officially shared the news with families and staff that i am leaving my job. whew. heart wrenching sadness.
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.
part psst…
rain.
falls.
hard.
burns.
dry.
a dream.
or a song.
that hits you so hard.
filling you up.
and suddenly gone.
~Midnight Radio

silent tidal breath

February 21, 2015

eventide.DSCN3344

tidal water

wave to sand like a hand.

shaking back and forth.

evening.

ending of

tiding me over to the next shore

for

health?

sanity?

daylight?

breath is movement.

so even when not moving, you’re moving.

agreed.

sound creates vibrational waves

in tissues

that can unloose old habits

of thought,

belief,

story,

as well as holding patterns,

movement signatures…

DSCN3350don’t focus on the sound or making the sound,

feel the impulse of the vibration in your tissues.

respond from a place of listening,

not doing…

watery web-y fascial connected tentacle-y medusa haired swilling pouring spilling falling unfurling condensing lateralizing dancing conflicting halving wholing crying (like. really. that ugly cry. in front of strangers.) swelling pulsing staring gazing flowing swimming seeping creeping on and on… it all happened.

this afternoon turned eventide was spent in a continuum playground.

held by the miraculous Rebecca, in the lineage of the one who spoke: “repetitive movement is a form of paralysis,” which is in a post that helped start this whole blog.

my gift from today is some mushy mindbodied space between whatever whichever whoever organ or persona ever hears/listens and any message sent.DSCN3357

listening organs are.

they may be neglected, numbed, crowded with over-busy too much noise, but they are.

whether it’s skin-touch nerve-endings, proprioceptive corpuscles, Golgi tendons, those 3 adorable tiny inner ears bones and the cilia and the water…

the waters sloshing inside.

ok, there are the receiving vessels of matter and void. substance and emptiness to be filled and emptied eternally.

and there are vibrations, impulses, sounds, voices of self, history, trauma, the drive to the class even.

that sip of water has its resonance, its ripples roiling through the tissues.

…like lava lamp bulbous masses flowing bumping popping splooging integrating rejecting rolling off and going up and down and fully spherical all in sequence.

ugh. this is getting long.

it’s the space between.

Something that wishes to be uttered is born between myself and the other and is uttered through me.

The genuine subject of the utterance is the sphere of the between.

(Buber as cited in Yoshida, 2002, p. 137)

DSCN3348So, I’m in a wretched state, at least relative to my sense of self and practice and career in creative contemplative movement practices. I’ll skip the details, but my ugly cry came as I tried to language how hard it is to even come to a continuum class and try and be, when these recent years have been a survival practice in (dis)functioning at bare minimum levels of embodiment – if embodied at all. I’m making some big changes, but I must ride out some current conditions that still warrant a wary disembodied dis-functioning way of crawling through.

This current yuck –along with some old learnin’ on how to be. still. (of both the life-negating and life-enhancing varieties of stilling)– yields stillness itself to be a sneaky slippery place of capacity -silence- for me to then hear so much – for me to be sensitive to so much happening in and outside of the skin hair nail barrier. And in better states of health I can kinda manage that volume knob of what to listen to and when.

One of my verbal-cue tropes as a Yoga teacher -after say an asymmetrical pose, during that transition space between- is to suggest how one might hold stillness or one might vinyasa-flow-through to help increase the volume of and thus hear the body’s message/response to that just-there-then-done practice… did this cause release, harm, relief, condensing… I describe it as the middle-schooler with homework, who needs the music blaring so to tune-in deeply to focus, versus those of us who need near all silence in the outer environ so to focus in, get the task to done.

DSCN3346Some of us truly need to dance or run or yoga, and it’s in the repeating of that shape in space or that gesture that one feels/hears how that knee joint is doing. For others it is only afterwards, in the stillness and quieting of movement that one can reflect day to day how this shoulder injury is doing. We might pause in the lap lane or on the trail to hear how that hip pain is singing shifting week to week…

In today’s practice, I became less interested in what my body might be saying, or what I might be hearing.

.

I was more interested in the space between:

I was more interested in whether sounding vibrations or even gross movement at all was helping me wake up to an embodied presence, or was such offering/sounding/noise/messaging just too much. I was more interested in -even if I was not “doing” the sound or movement- was it still(haha) drowning out any listening potential.

Simultaneously, I was more interested in whether stillness was helping me hear, or was it another form of numbing for me that equally drowned any listening potential.

The static on the dial, or the crickets – stillness can be like that for me. I have to be careful. Mindful, haha. I used to do experiments in tolerating stillness, utter stillness in ridiculous postures for hours and hours. There are other aspects, but this aspect of sitting meditation practice has become a strange one for me to watch out for.

Paradox everywhere. droll droll.

I can tell you that I fell better for having gone and moved and held stillness in a safe space place. There are other details I could tell you.

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Yoshida, A. (2002). Martin Buber: Education as holistic encounter and dialogue. In J. Miller & Y. Nakagawa (Eds.), Nurturing our wholeness: Perspectives on spirituality in education (pp. 125-139). [CD-ROM]. Brandon, VT: Volume Six of the Foundations of Holistic Education Series.