Time, portals, & calculated risks
I moved into a new attic apartment a couple months ago, and it feels like I’ve been here much longer. A few weeks into living here, I was sitting at my Grandma Pat’s old dining room table looking at a picture of my Grandma Ruth, and I thought to myself and probably said out loud – I’ve been here before. (and I have actually been here before because a dear friend used to live in this apartment :) ) But also, like I have been here before.
Or, it just feels right. The right next place to be for I don’t know how long. But I’m here. And as long as I’m here, in the present moment, there’s some kind of expansiveness, familiarity. Time feels less relevant. Like, no matter how many new homes or situations I find myself in, there’s space to sink in.
Or, presence is a portal. It’s a doorway, a dropping into something or dropping away from distraction. To more, to less, to awareness beyond the busyness of modern life and my busy mind. Art, bodywork, driving in a snowstorm, stirring a pot of soup, coffee with a dear friend, babies can all draw me into some kind of timeless awareness.
Presence portals may not always be accessible or enjoyable. The same space or situation can feel like a lonely hell portal. Sometimes that’s just what life feels like, and sometimes I might have too many opinions on the discomfort I’m feeling.
Staring at the wall or ceiling is a favorite portal of mine. Often it’s a fantasy or avoidance portal. And lately it’s been one of my favorite ways to procrastinate waking up on these cold winter mornings.
I’ve been marinating in a special new year’s experience that I spent at Earthdance, an arts community and retreat center in western Massachusetts, for their annual Winter Jam. It was a 4 day container co-created by 40 people, filled with Contact Improvisation, community meals, play, and rest. Another kind of portal ~ one that takes you out of ordinary time space and creates a micro world to experience with others.
It was a calculated covid risk – made possible with vaccines, multiple rounds of testing, and care. I was hesitant to share what I was doing with folks… you’re going to a communal farm to dance and roll around with strangers? I did. And I feel lucky and grateful for the opportunity and health of the group.
I hardly journaled while at Earthdance, and I’ve resisted the desire to capture or summarize my experience. I’m still chewing on it and craving more.
I felt my body remember that Contact Improvisation is a form I love and miss dearly. I felt so much warmth from the community. I felt brave and loving, new and a little self-conscious. I was reminded of how distanced we’ve been from our own bodies, from each other’s bodies, and from a deep sense of community – during the pandemic, of course, and also generally while existing in a competitive, individualistic, and transactional society.
It felt like such a gift to start the year with so much dance and connection, and it’s my intention to keep moving and expanding in this direction.
I leave you with some sweet moments from my Earthdance portal, to visualize, embody, or share with a friend –
Deep belly sighs. Deep belly laughter.
Sitting back to back, feeling my breath, my neighbors breath, the wood floor beneath us.
Cradling someone’s head in my hands.
Having my head held.
Hugs.
I send you some eye contact and a gentle, warm hand squeeze.
May we all take care,
Emily
p.s. a nun recently shared in a meeting that “Your ordinary life is holy” and I think I will put it on my wall to stare at so I remember.