In those moments, of breathy expansiveness and of airy improvisation, I remember:
Pulling myself across the paper, across the floor, while gazing up and directly into Deb's eyes; looking up at Monique, who had entered a cue early and witnessing the recognition of this fact as it illuminated her eyes; while speaking the "I am the sun" line, Deb and I both motioning to each other with outstretched arms; gliding over to the piano and gently directing, with a finger to my lips, for Greg to bring the decibel level of the piano down; forgetting a few words of my poem, such as the whole "I am a performer, taking center stage," paragraph, and the "I am the philosophy major.." line; rolling over my shoulder, a number of times, and performing some arm-pressing, handstand like movements; and looking directly into almost every one of my audience member's eyes (hmmm... the juiciest, best part).
At my poem's conclusion, I backed my way off of stage and around behind the audience. Monique stepped forward and read her excerpt. She became choked up over the lines, "the story is the heart of the matter. My story, your story, Cara's story - ourstory." She then invited the audience over to the program-making station. I requested not to have a program for my graduation ceremony, which was to be held on the following day. Instead, Monique invited the audience to make their own program using the excerpts, of images, exercises, and prose, from my portfolio that I had strategically placed around the room, along with ribbon, scissors, glue, and writing utensils. The visual artists were already off, and on the job, creating phenomenal pieces of art. Richard made a bow tie using the black and white copy of the "Eve" sequence, which he then wore to my graduation the next day.
Whitney then stepped forward and invited the audience over to the portfolio station where she spoke of the metaphorical structure of this body of work. Jessica then pulled a CD from my portfolio and spoke of my community dance practice and of my heartfelt philosophy: "That there is no one right way to dance." (Or, to live.) She then invited everyone back to the dance floor where everyone was welcome to dance to the diverse mix CD that she had created for the occasion.
Back on the vinyl floor, Petra had rolled herself over and lowered herself onto the smooth surface. Her and I then engaged in a contact dance, demonstrating to those watching what contact can look like between two people. Bonnie, Laiwan, and myself shared a nice moment together, of a twirl here and a spin there. Jess grooved like the wild woman she is. People talked, and hung out. I got people up and dancing. Alaina had her camera on hand, and when she tired I picked it up and danced around the space with it, snapping photos along the way. Laiwan joined Deb, Greg, and David, in beating out pulsating rhythms to the dance tunes. It was splendid and perfect. Then, Laiwan's workshop began, people left the building, and the music petered out. And life continues.. just as it always does.
