After attempting to breathe through a break in my studies, I resumed my Goddard career in the spring of '07. Back again to Vermont, I flew, even though the action made me nauseous and, while there, all I wanted was to not be there. But, I tried - to re-focus and be excited. This time, I was placed in the group of an advisor who lived in San Diego (and taught at UCSD). However, this person emphatically stated, early on, that she did not want to have a physical relationship with me. Rather, I just dropped my five packets off in a mailbox that was situated within a stucco wall that blocked the passer-by's vision from the decrepit yard that lay on the other side. This was my official third semester and it was time for me to create and embody a practicum. Although my Goddard advisors were advising that "Cara not be in charge of, or lead, any groups," I jumped into my role as facilitator. I began leading weekly meditation, movement, exercise, and dance, classes to a group of over 20+ senior citizens at a residential facility in North Park.
Ah, my friends at Cathedral Arms. Truly, it is they who saved me. My work and time spent with them was exactly what I needed. It was all I could focus on that semester. According to my advisor, however, it was not enough demonstration of an arts practice for the MFA degree. Thus, I was told that I would have to perform another semester of study prior to writing my portfolio.
In the fall of 2007, I transferred from the Plainfield campus to the new site that had just opened up on Fort Worden State Park in Port Townsend, Washington. I never envisioned that I would make this move, it just came down to convenience in the end. But this move was exactly what any doctor would have ordered. My first year in Port Townsend was awe-some. I wanted to be there - amongst the pine scented breezes of the Pacific Northwest; on a historic, military outpost that was not only for our program; and in a smaller, more intimate community (we began with around 20 students). That school year, which included the fall of '07 and the spring of '08, went along swimmingly. I was back on track.
Back at home, my life was mirroring this transition, as well. I found myself back within the DanceJam community, in which I had begun teaching a weekly Contact Dance class to my peers. Dance Church also became a regular part of my practice, and I began taking advantage of our weekly Tuesday night space as a means to dive deeper into my process. By the time the fall residency of '08 had rolled around, I thought I was ready. I had even brainstormed a great idea for the structure of my portfolio. Because my spine is quite literally the backbone of my work as a movement practitioner, I sought to shape my portfolio with this structure in mind. However, upon hearing this plan of mine, one of my long-standing professors, said: "That's so western." (She was referring to how I was forcing my will upon my portfolio, rather then just letting it organically evolve from deep listening and an expansive breathiness. I get this now. At the time, however....)
Then, I presented a workshop. My goal had been to have a contact dance with the body of work that I had created over the past three years. My participants were led into the wood-floored workshop space, pulled along by a blue and white string that they were grasping onto with closed eyes. In a large spiral, I had laid out excerpts of my work from my many semesters of study for them to hold, touch, feel, read, and watch. I asked them to choose something that resonated and then we had a round table discussion about the work, my work, and what it meant to me, to them, and to us. Yet, at the conversation's conclusion, one of my peers ambled up to me and said, "So, I've seen your work, Cara. But I still don't get what it is you do." "What do you do?" he sweetly inquired. I was stumped. I didn't know, and I didn't have an answer. Ouch, this hurt.
Yes, I knew that I am an interdisciplinary artist who predominantly focused on dance/movement, writing, and digital media, but what was the connecting thread? I didn't know. So, I focused on living and what a grand fall it was. However, my advisors were not impressed by the rough draft that I did not have by the third packet due date. When I finally turned in a rough draft of the portfolio, at the end of the semester, I was understandably told, "You can do better, Cara." Ai, yai, yai. Oh goddess. Again? Yup, this time I was told I had to take a four week extension and I missed the spring '09 residency. I missed a peer's graduation, as well as meeting new advisors and students. C'est la vie...
