spill forward

living at the edges

Leaning forward into a mass of moving bodies, will I be held, will I fall? Will I embarrass myself? Am I too heavy? Am I too uptight? Will I hurt someone? Will they let me down? Will they abandon me in a pile on the floor?

The dance is a smorgasbord of risks - of falling, of being rejected, of getting a foot in the face. The key is to activate the sensitivities of the body and take responsibility for the risks. All senses are on, available. The body is responsive, adaptable, moving.

Yes, you will fall. Yes, they will let you down. 

Remember, the ground is your most consistent partner. Forever beneath our bodies, earth is a big body, a lifelong dance partner. When I remember this, something changes. It doesn’t promise I won’t get hurt or let down. It does invite me to dance with gravity, with earth, with life. Risks, bruises, and pain included.

a pile of bodies spilling into the earth, July 2023

I get a lot of practice falling with my body, and, too, I feel myself spilling with words and emotions. I am forever falling forward into ideas, bodies, beds, jobs, situations.

What does it feel like to spill forward into life? 

Ecstatic, unencumbered, a sloppy, bright smiling mess. A clear laser, shooting forward, confident but not all-knowing. An unrestrained smile, tears pouring out, eyes twinkling, word vomiting all the things that excite me in this moment, spilling out the details of my life as if they are a sermon in and of itself. 

Am I anxious or just excited? Am I scared or just feeling vulnerable? Is there more to spill, to move forward? Is it beginning to settle and soak in? 

Chuckle, laugh, spill, draw outside of the lines, risk looking like a fool, risk saying the wrong thing. Ready yourself to adapt, be humbled, soften, apologize as needed. Take the risk and check in, is this okay? Sensitize yourself to verbal and non-verbal cues. 

This is how we play. 

Holding myself back, hiding from my life, avoiding risk (falling, confrontation, change, challenge) is it’s own kind of pain. Sure, sometimes it protects me from bruises and broken hearts, but most of the time it leaves me rigid, feeling stuck and disconnected from this sensuous life. 

Oh, gods of feeling, I offer this spilling body at your altar.

I am saying Yes to my life, I tell a friend earlier this year.

I am patient with my process, says a dusty affirmation card from a collaborative performance five years ago.

I am sorry it took so long, says a red slip of paper that was handed to me just a couple months ago.

spilling,

em

chillin’ and spillin’ at the edge