Go

Back to the blog after almost 4 months.  The blog, an intermittently essential part of the process/practice.  Opening, Sensing, Creating/Channeling, Sharing.  Emphasis on flow and trust.  De-emphasizing judgment or product and/or that which blocks the flow. Go.


What am I writing about?  I don't know, I don't know. It's all about loosening the flow.  Eliminate the fog, the hesitation, the judgment.  Everything is perfect and the more that we trust this, the more that it is true.

It's an energy practice that is everything.  It's all energy:  the thoughts, the movements, the words, the choices, the non-choices.  Do we choose where to direct it or does it tell us where to direct?  When we choose, did we? Or did it tell us what to choose?  Do we know?  Does it matter?  True is true, no?  It's not a matter of leading or following.  Neither exists when you are in the Now, when you are the Now.  It's so clear.  What is it?

Grateful for My Tears

I'm struggling tonight.  Writing and deleting.  This is never a good sign:  second-guessing myself.  It means I am not trusting myself and I am not trusting you.  Let's see if I can make it through and write this entry and post it.

Today I found myself fighting the urge to cry throughout the day.  I vacillated between wondering what was wrong with me (pms, fatigue, etc) and accepting and noticing that something deep and powerful in me was being touched.

As an artist I've always felt like "I am going to do this, by hook or by crook, I will not stop.  With or without your support or approval, I will not stop."  This is primarily because my artistic expression is essential for my survival.  I cannot deal with life without it.  Therefore, it'd be nice to have support and recognition, but I need to do this regardless.... and I need to do it freely.  I have been lucky in finding situations to create and teach and share which let me do my thing, my way.  Sometimes it involved sacrificing financial support, etc, but it was always worth it.

There have been some golden situations in which I had both freedom, space, and financial support without having to jump through hoops to get it.  I've appreciated these times, but have not lost my spirit to do my thing even when I am unsupported.

There have been times when I have spent a lot of time and effort contorting myself into something in attempt to win support.... and ended up with nothing except the knowledge that I should not do that again.

Over the last few years, I have gone through some challenging times in my personal life which required me to conserve energy and lay low, if you will.  I stopped getting involved in artistic situations that took too much energy or were likely to end in low returns in terms of artistic satisfaction.  I stopped applying for projects, etc.  I took what came to me.  This is not a bad thing and was necessary during this period.  But I was at the most ambivalent, drained to the point of only being able to care so much (ie. very little).

In the last 6 months or so, I've started engaging a bit more with the local scene: applying for residencies, agreeing to be in group shows, following up on possible opportunities within larger organizations.  Thus far it has been a mixed bag and honestly somewhat disappointing.  I've felt my spirit being dampened by my engagement with these "larger" structures and their constraints.  This concerns me.  I need my spirit much more than I need anyone's money or slot in a performance.

My passion for teaching has been growing and growing over the last few years.  In fact, the more I teach, the more I want to teach.  I still enjoy performing a great deal, but teaching has possibly become equally important to me.  It deepens my connection to the work and it is energizing to spread the practice of improvisation to others.  It energizes me and it energizes them.  Quite frankly, I feel the whole world needs a lot more of what we practice when we practice improvisation.

Over the last few years, I have had the good fortune to teach in a university setting.  My favorite aspect of this is that I get to work with the same group of people twice a week for 3 consecutive months.  This means we really get to know each other and we can dig into the practice of improvisation.  I love this.

Unfortunately, almost every semester there is a struggle to register enough students for the class to run.  Each semester my director and I work hard to meet the required number of students.  Somehow, we always succeed.  My class is exceptional in that it is open to both the community and the university students.  There is usually an age range from 19 years old to 80 years old.  This is magnificent.  To top it off, this semester, we have a wonderful musician playing music for us.  We've only had the first week of class, but there is very good energy and I sense a lot of potential for learning and development.

As usual, we are still struggling with numbers.  Today I found myself literally crying because I sensed this great energy and knew that it was indeed at risk.  I could not contain my disappointment. Granted, nothing has been cancelled, but the reality that it was a possibility was deeply upsetting to me.

One could interpret this situation in many ways.  One could interpret it as meaning that the class is not thriving in this setting and that I need to find a different place to teach.  One could suggest that I am too attached to the existence of this class.  After a long nap, I woke up feeling grateful for my tears.  They are a sign that my passion to teach and passion for improvisation is alive and well.  There is nothing wrong.  In fact, this is very right.

In the Water

It's been a while since I have written here.  As of late, I have been thinking about the different voices I use when communicating on social media.  I am aware that I have adopted at least one that is different from my real voice.  It's odd to notice this as it was unintentional.  I think this voice tries to be more accessible, a little lighter than my real voice.  I'm not sure I like it.  I think it was a reaction to feeling like my intensity might deter some people.  I hope to resume writing from a more confident, straight-forward lizroncka voice.  However, I also accept that sometimes we change whether we like it or not.  Sometimes we need a little more cushion, more buffer, more protection and so we shift to continue in more comfortable or sustainable way.  Perhaps forcefully trying to speak from a voice I had before is not possible.  Perhaps that voice is not available to you or me at this time.  Perhaps simply bringing awareness to this observation is enough to elicit change.... in me, in you.  But this is not what I sat down to write about except that I did.  And now this:


This morning as I was speed-scrolling through Facebook, I saw a photo of a shoreline.  This led me to thinking about the ocean.  On Sunday mornings, it's very common for me to ponder "life".  It's usually the only day I do not go to work and have time to just sit and let my mind wander.  Living alone and being single also affords me some very open, peaceful time to sit with my questions and ideas.  Today I was thinking about how life is very much like being in the ocean, yet our sensibilities and our way of experiencing each is often quite different.  I suppose it is from my movement practices that I am very aware of the power of imagery and analogy in shifting how one moves/behaves/experiences a situation.  Thus reflecting on life as being in the ocean offered me some insight.

We are in life just as when we are in the water.  We are submerged, surrounded, enveloped.  It moves us and we move it.  When we move through the water with intention, it is also moving us, shifting us slightly, or even powerfully, from the direction we were headed.  We know this. We compensate.  We tune in.  We know it is inevitable, that the tide is moving us.

In the ocean, we are not in charge and we know it. We are constantly navigating and negotiating, aware of the power of the water.  It continues to move us.  Even when we let go and float or sink, it moves us.  When we stop trying to move, we move anyway.

This is true in life too.  We may think we have stopped.  We are doing nothing, but it is not true.  Our mere existence is causing movement, change, action.  Even if we just lay in bed.  Somewhere something is happening, whether a thought, an action, conscious or unconscious, something is happening because we are there in that bed.

In the ocean, things float by.  They float to us and away.  They come and go easily, moved by the water.  It's almost impossible to hold onto something in the water.  In the water, the different physical nature of things becomes incredible apparent.  You float and move smoothly, your clothes get heavy and cling, dragging you down.  Another body floats and moves differently in the water.  No two things behave the same way in water.  So true in life as well.

And in life and the ocean, the vastness is inconceivable.  What is creeping along the ocean floor, 100 years old, just a few feet below your twinkly little toes?  You'll never know.  What will float by you later today?

And when you get out of the water, the water you displaced moves and causes a change.  Your absence matters.

The Corner of Each Other's Eyes

He speaks of equity.  He speaks in French.  He means equality.  He means we are equal in our vulnerability and in our ambivalence.  He means our hearts belong to no one, but we love many.  He means we are both broken.  Suffer less.  Shuffle the cards.  We have mastered our poker faces, our sleight of hand, our smoke and mirrors.  We juggle and slide between disguise and recognition.  We both look back and smile as if those photos were of someone else.  We smile and hold hands while we bury our hearts six feet under, secretly relieved.  We breath deep, our lungs expand, filling in the gap in our chests.  We walk forward, separately, but remain in the corner of each other's eye.


*when i write, i often jump off from something in real life... an event, a phrase.. a feeling. however, i always let the creation take off and go its own way, easily and often veering from the "truth".  the art has a life of its own, its own truth.  it is not history or a mere record or reflection, it is its own.  i may refer to someone or a situation in my life, but i let it go where it wishes.

The Stew of Fact and Fiction

I'm going to write every word of every story that lingers
Whatever part of whichever one of you resonates or rots in the Refrigerator of my mind heart soul
Soup and sugar bowl

I'll let the truth and imagination bounce and bubble over and serve the Stew of fact and fiction
A memory that serves the illusion needed to carry on
The baton
Of your ego

To make you go go
Go away
Across the valley of your pain

Marching on
Parading and plundering
Thundering thoughts of things
You had and lost
By choice and chance

Dance, dance she said
But you couldn't hear
Your ears broken and bashed by the falseness of your past

Busted membranes letting all the air out
While you choked choked choked
On your forgotten hope

mouth full of mirrors

how many times have you said those words?
how can you stand to utter them again?
getting yourself all jacked up on dreams and drugs
just to do another lap around the block
sshh sshhh shhhhh
shut your mouth full of mirrors
and swallow the glass

Inside/Outside

For the last 15 years, one of the most important ideas in my practice of improvisation has been the idea that one must be inside herself and the improvisation as well as outside of it. One must pay attention to what one is experiencing in their own body/mind/soul as well as what is happening within the piece (with the other dancers, musicians, the space itself) as well as what the audience is seeing/experiencing.  It requires a sort of dual presence and awareness.  In the beginning, this was a difficult task and sometimes still is, but overall over time, it has become easier and often automatic.

I began teaching improvisation 5 years ago and this has been a skill that I have emphasized in class as well.

The longer I practice improvisation, the more the skills I practice in the studio and onstage enter my everyday life.  This feels both natural and correct.  I am not interested in being one person when I am improvising/making art and one person in my "real" life.  However, there are fewer rules and expectations in my creative world than in everyday societal life.  There are so many ways that we are expected to act and behave in our social interactions.  It is not my goal to rebel against social behaviors simply for the sake of doing so, yet sometimes I feel the more fluid, improvisational part of myself out in social situations.  I sense, I intuit, I adapt and adjust based on what I am feeling and observing.  Sometimes this is done without discussion or verbal acknowledgment.  For me, it can feel both necessary and obvious when perhaps it is not to others.  Also in improv, we allow ourselves to slip seamlessly from being inside our self and out, to follow impulse and urge, to respond to the strong and clear parts of our self.  While we foster our awareness and ability to shift from one perspective to another, we also sharpen our connection to our self.  We learn to sense and act with quick trust of impulse.  We switch from intellect to animal in a second.We hone our ability to shift and act without hesitation or doubt.  If you are less tuned, it can feel like a fast and unpredictable dance, but for those who have been developing these skills, it is sharp shooting.  While we learn to shift, we also sense continuity of theme and essence.  Something remains true, clear and intentional throughout.  While we sculpt details we remain aware of the big picture.

Recently I have had some moments of pause and reflection about some of my actions in my personal life.  As others have questioned my behavior, I have stopped to think about how and why I do what I do.  My understanding is that my practice of improvisation has extended to all moments of my life.  It is not possible, nor do I wish it to be possible, to have one brain and body when I am in the studio and one brain and body when I am not.  I am always alive.  I am always improvising.  Different parts of me and my awareness may burn stronger or weaker at different times, but it is all always there.  As I said, it is not my intention to push things for the sake of pushing them, but it is my wish to live in a full, sensitive and free way as much as possible.  I do not say that this is THE WAY to be or that others SHOULD live this way.  I am simply being true to myself as I wish everyone to be.  Ego still exists, emotions still exist but so does one's ability to shift and take space and observe from the outside.  What we observe from inside is so strong because of all the thoughts, feeling and sensations in our own body and then all the ways we feel because we connect to another being in a specific way, yet there is also a more objective witness that we are capable of being.  I find the most rich experience is when I take time to visit all of these perspectives.  In a hot second, I very well am just in one, but with pause and openness I may be able to visit many different perspectives.  I may be able to learn and experience much more by shifting perspectives.  Indeed, I may return to my most personal and internal experience and act from that place, but for me, it is worth stepping out and seeing what can be experienced from another part of my awareness.

It's a strange walk through life as we dilate our senses and take some distance from ourselves... perhaps even overwhelming.  Yet I would never wish to shrink back to operating within a smaller sphere for safety or acceptance.  Sometimes I get pushed back so hard, that I sit on the floor for a while and wonder what the fuck just happened, but then I get up and get back on my path.  I ask my questions, take my risks, sometimes I get slapped in the face or  walked away from, but mostly I have damn interesting dances through my days.

I am an improvisor.