Those four weeks proved to be the penultimate pressure. Finally, I realized that I am an embodiment artist. "On the Brink: Diving Into Embodiment" flowed fairly well after that. There was less force needed, ya know? However, it wasn't until this past week when I truly understood the title.
For, it was I who was on the brink.
On the brink of emotional insecurity, or rejoicing as a free spirit.
On the brink of self-imposed isolation, or reveling in joyous community.
On the brink of not finishing graduate school, or finally graduating.
On the brink of not being a rigorous student, or being the disciplined artist I am meant to be.
And it is I who am (still) on the brink.
On the brink of financial obscurity, or success.
On the brink of personal narrative, or published prose.
On the brink of continuing to knock my head against the same door, or opening up and walking through another.
On the brink of responding from my vulnerable defenses, or being majestically open to the rawness of vulnerability.
On the brink, indeed.
Yes, we could debate whether or not it has been my self-esteem that has made my MFA journey so long. (1.5 years longer than the program is stipulated.) But, why bother? For, I have finally recognized that what I want more than anything in this life is to move around this world as I glide along a dance floor - gracefully giving and generously unafraid to offer myself up to the moment. Then, moving on to the next moment - irrespective of what may come.
To this end, I am glad that I stuck with Goddard and its Interdisciplinary Arts higher education degree program. As one of my roommates from my time spent on the Plainfield campus once shared with me, "It is the most expensive therapy that you will ever give yourself." I am so grateful to have spent the past weekend offering myself up at my graduation presentation and ceremony in Port Townsend, and to now, be home again in San Diego, where I feel thoroughly entrenched in a thriving, vibrant community.
Yes, I still have my own personal b.s. and issues to deal with, but I am more than ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. For, I now have hope on my side.
No longer do I feel trapped by my own skin and bone. Rather, i revel in this party - of being here, now. Of being able to reach out and touch others. One day, all too soon, I will be released from this body and this life, and I will once again experience pure energy. But, I won't be able to contain it. I won't be able to kiss another, or gaze at a rising sun. I won't be able to smell fresh baked apple pie, or hear a Michael Jackson dance tune that makes my legs want to move. I won't be able to taste sweet fruit fresh from the tree. Indeed, this time now is precious.
So, this is the hope that I now take with me.
A hope that what we have now is perfect - it's enough.
And a hope that I am open and expansive to what comes,
even if what comes is my own untimely demise...
