truth

Artists:

so many mediums, aspects, genres, styles, designs, plots, inspirations, ideas, creations, emotions, scripts, presentations, performances, showings…                                                 and on, and on…

like our sexuality, it is not a choice. we are artists.                                                                  and, no, we do not need your approval to be this, to do this, to live this.

WE. ARE. THIS.  unlike so many professions, we ARE our artistry.

it is life, breath, it is existence. period. and, it is, at times, many…many…many…times very painful.

the criticism, skepticism, and, well, disdain for the lack of financial security related to our artistry, by others, for our supposedly ‘chosen’ path, to create the very amazing, mind-stretching and brilliant works that entertain everyone else who can afford to enjoy our art, is sad, insulting, mind-boggling and shameful.                                                         even those who love us, like us, tell us we are “talented, wonderful, even geniuses” are not fully “in”. ‘gosh, you are so smart, you would be so good at…(fill in the blank)’.

thank god, we don’t give a shit if ANYONE likes what we create and have the fucking balls to expose to everyone on a regular basis. some see it as bravery, others say crazy.

we have no choice.

creation is innate and raw, and contrived, and self-imposing, and selfish, and lovely, and selfless, and necessary…it is necessary to those who create, and especially for those who are the recipients of the creation. you need us. you do. and, as such, should be compensated fairly for our necessity. but, guess what? when we are not, we keep on.       because…we must…and because it is a love so insistent. because.

just because…

love you long time…

Do you have a situation that requires great decisions and reflections? A situation that feels like it will never be resolved and, more importantly, a situation that feels like it is uniquely yours that no one else could possibly relate to….???

Of course, you do. You are human. And it sucks a whole f’ing lot of the time. And you wonder…”Am I the only one who…(fill in the blank)?”  No, you definitely are not.

But, that doesn’t make your situation unimportant. In fact, it makes it perfectly relevant.

Why? because, believe it or not, we all relate. Someway, somehow. We are all dealing with S#$t, and we all have to go to work, take care of children, take care of our parents, do a job we hate, do chores we dislike and work with people we might not necessarily choose to work with….Damn it, just take care of f’ing everything!

IT. IS. HARD. PERIOD.

And, you know what? we have to keep doing it. Just like our great-grandparents did. Like our grandparents did. And, maybe our parents. Keeping a stiff upper lip isn’t necessarily bad.  Wearing our crap on our sleeves all the damn time, is heavy. It is counterproductive. It is useless. How does it aid in solving our personal crimes, our maladies, our misgivings? It doesn’t. Because, as my daughter might say, most people only care about themselves.

Does that hurt? Too bad. Because it’s true. Most people only think about how almost everything relates to them. Their pain, their joy, their heartaches, their victories. YUP. True. All of it true. We like to think that others are concerned with our well being. Some are, but most are not. We are all self-consumed.  The truth is difficult.

Take some time to love YOU, and you will be amazed at your ability to reach beyond yourself to love others and genuinely care about them. And, maybe, just maybe, all of that S#$T might be bearable…My experience is that, yes, being selfless yields positive results…Just saying…

 

 

IT’S BLOGGING TIME!!!!!

So much to say…

First, I had a great revelation at the dishwasher. All of the years that we as parents dread emptying the dishwasher suddenly became an enormous void for me.

As I gazed upon the FULL dishwasher, thinking that I will not be emptying so many drinking glasses or dishes in the present or future, I was struck by the reality that I would soon be an “empty nester” ….I really, really despise that term. I DO have a  dog and 2 cats after all…geez…

LIVE. live in the present. ENJOY. enjoy each and every moment. LOVE. love it all – even those moments that appear for all unimaginable reasons to be unloveable. EMBRACE. embrace the now…the people…the moments…it all….

and, that’s all…but again, it’s everything…as I MAY have mentioned before…take heed.

Silence is ROTTEN!

SILENCE IS GOLDEN….Keeping one’s mouth shut is a great virtue, as in Don’t tell anyone else about it—silence is golden.   Although this precise phrase was first recorded only in 1848, it is part of a much older proverb, “Speech is silver and silence is golden.”
Yes!!!  because, I seriously don’t want to hear all of the BS most people have to unload.
I think that in the “olden” days people were more discreet and didn’t feel the need to “share” every personal detail of their lives with simply EVERYONE who cared to hear, read or “social-medialize” their information.
And then the flip side of my thoughts prevails…opinion and its validity.
Silencing myself permanently for the sake of peace is like being constipated.
That is the gist.  I’ve “lost” friends for the sake of opinion. Sadly.
It is ironic that those who preach tolerance have lost their sight in terms of practicing tolerance.
I won’t hide anymore. I am me. I am who I am. And that is that. Silence is only golden when preservation is imminent, necessary and prudent. Not out of fear. Period.
Word.

jUst WoRk IT ouT

Recently, I was given a gym membership as a gift. I was thrilled. The idea that I could potentially transform this post menopausal dancer’s body into a work of art was entrancing. Mind you, I’ve never really exercised in this sense. Almost every day of my life, since the age of 5, has been devoted to my daily regime of plies, tendus and various motions with the intent of moving to music. Not exercise. Dance. Joy. Pain. The Zone. Nirvana. 

I’m game. Let’s do this gym thing. Ha!

I think, these machines are the enemy. I need an ally. Yes. Personal trainer-my crutch. I feel ridiculous. Intimidated. These gym people know what they are doing. And they are serious. And I am paralyzed and awkward.

How is it that, for almost 5 decades I have performed and taught in front of hundreds of thousands of people, that I now am so self conscious about being in the middle of the gym, in front of all these professional gym people and doing gym things, that I feel ‘stage fright’…really? I don’t think I’ve felt like this since I wasn’t chosen to be on ANY team during PE in 4th grade!

Once my trainer sessions are up…only 2 left…then what? I’m terrified. Taking off the training wheels is going to be like a C-section for me. But, I am motivated by the desire for my 23 year old gluteus maximus and striationous thighs. Count down to trainer weening…I. Can. Do. This. i think…or I could just go dancing…