Entering the Movement

"In your cultural prison, which inmates wield the power?"

"Ah," I said.  "The male inmates.  Especially the white male inmates."

"Yes, that's right.  But, you understand, that these white male inmates are indeed inmates and not warders.  For all their power and privilege - for all they lord it over everyone else in the prison - not one of them has a key that will unlock the gate."

"Of course it's true that males - and, as you say, especially white males - have called the shots inside the prison for thousands of years, perhaps even from the beginning.  Of course, it's true that this is unjust.  And, of course it's true that power and wealth within the prison should be equitably redistributed.  But, it should be noted that what is crucial to your survival as a human race is not the redistribution of power and wealth within the prison but rather the destruction of the prison itself."

--from Daniel Quinn's Ishamel

In order to better elucidate when I entered this movement, I must first begin with what the movement is.  With movement as metaphor as one of the guiding principles of my artistic practice, dictionary.com does a fine job of clarifying:

move·ment

[moov-muhnt]  –noun

1. the act, process, or result of moving.

2. a particular manner or style of moving.

3. Usually, movements. actions or activities, as of a person or a body of persons.

4. Military, Naval. a change of position or location of troops or ships.

5. abundance of events or incidents.

6. rapid progress of events.

7. the progress of events, as in a narrative or drama.

8. Fine Arts. the suggestion of motion in a work of art, either by represented gesture in figurative painting or sculpture or by the relationship of structural elements in a design or composition.

9. a progressive development of ideas toward a particular conclusion: the movement of his thought.

10. a series of actions or activities intended or tending toward a particular end: the movement toward universal suffrage.

11. the course, tendency, or trend of affairs in a particular field.

12. a diffusely organized or heterogeneous group of people or organizations tending toward or favoring a generalized common goal: the antislavery movement; the realistic movement in art.

13. the price change in the market of some commodity or security: an upward movement in the price of butter.

14. bowel movement. (One of my personal faves.)

15. the working parts or a distinct portion of the working parts of a mechanism, as of a watch.

16. Music.

a. a principal division or section of a sonata, symphony, or the like.

b. motion; rhythm; time; tempo.

17. Prosody. rhythmical structure or character. 

 

A beginning...

It all begins with one little book, - the Bible.
Okay, no. I am just kidding. But it does begin with a story.
It's the tale of a gorilla desperately seeking pupil, -
an avid student to share the biggest myth of all with.
"Guess what?" the giant ape asks, as she sits in a pretzel-like posture behind thick, metal bars.
"On planet earth, and in the course of evolution, human beings caused no more of a stir that that of a jelly fish."
"That's right," her honey brown eyes sparkle,
"you aren't special."
"And, not only are you not special, but your way is not the way.
There is no one right way."
"Did you hear that?"
"THERE IS NO ONE RIGHT WAY."
The grown adult sits there, on the other side of the enclosed cell, perplexed and with a crease in his forehead.
With four fingertips, he scratches his head.

So, what happens when the notion you were raised on, when the narrative you've heard since birth, is proven to be exactly that, - a story? A simple tale? A fabrication to maintain reality as you and I both know it?
What happens when you begin questioning every aspect of that story? When you know, deep down inside your guts, when your cells tell you, that something isn't right. When your body fights, tooth and nail, against performing the same repetitive sequences, day in and day out. Yet the story remains, unchanged.

"I get up, the sun rises. I go to work, the sun sets. I go to bed,the pattern continues. And I do it again tomorrow because I have to pay for the shelter over my head, and for the food in my belly." The primacy of money and materials has become godly. Force ensues, and a people succumb to believing that there is only one right way.

Ask yourself, "is this the right way?"
Close your eyes. Take a few breaths. In through the nose, out through the nose. In through the nose, - feel your belly rise and your chest expand. Out through your nose, - feel your ribcage drop and your belly contract. Sense how your weight is sitting over your pelvis and how your shoulders are hanging above your ribcage. Feel what your body tells you.

"What does your body tell you?"


"Welcome home."


You have landed.


Now, let me introduce to my friend, - embodiment.