Arriving / Becoming
over & over again
I am a body on the move. Shapeshifting into planes, buses, and trains. My lips make new shapes, trying on a romantic language.
My animal body takes in new information, the land and streets, gestures and facial expressions.
Floating between being an anonymous human with a suitcase and being welcomed into homes and embraces, welcomed as me.
A new rhythm is needed. A rhythm of travel. Keep moving, keep moving. A rhythm of rest, of as much ease as possible. Shifting sleep schedule, midday naps. Body speaks: don't let the speed of the airplane flatten the distance, I've traveled quite far. Let me adjust. Let me ease in.
I arrive, and I arrive again. Riding and relating to change. Travel necessitates this. And doesn't all of life? This is practice, practice for daily life.
As expected, Italy is beautiful.
It is my second time here, so there is familiarity along with newness as I observe changes in myself and the world over the past 6 years.
I am here "by myself" kind of. It is me moving between places, sketching out the itinerary. But what I'm doing is impossible without others, I remind myself this when I feel alone. People and connections as guideposts, homes, and companions. People being the reason I'm here at all ~ to celebrate, to connect with, to dance and learn from.
Starting my time with my cousins in a small town, I sink into a rhythm of Italian life. My body feels welcomed and cared for as I keep shifting ~ long, full lunches, midday rest, late-night festival festivities. One day feels long and spacious, running into the next.
This first arrival is a practice of receiving. Meals that go on and on, homemade wine, clean sheets, fresh water. Generous hospitality given with pleasure. This is what we do.
Coming from a transactional culture (i.e. corporate culture, capitalism, much of the US), receiving can feel special, extraordinary or even uncomfortable. Receiving hospitality is vulnerable, beautiful, radical, I remind myself. Soften the body, dissolve ideas of separateness. A world of receiving and giving from our bellies and hearts… mhmmmmm this feels difficult and worth aiming for.
I am reading Body Becoming by Robyn Henderson-Espinoza. Their words reach my body in my own process of arriving and becoming.
This week, a new arrival to Casina Settarte in southern Italy for movement, dance, and community. Already, my feet are in the dirt, my hair is salty, a new rhythm emerges, english and italian float around the space. I exhale.
be easy, be well in these mid-August, full moon days.
Arrividerci!
emily