Autobiography

For the first time since I was 18, I am going to be performing in a Dance Concert this Winter.  I auditioned on a whim, one of the actions I have taken to give back to myself during all the rigors of the program.  (I got really catty last year and I don't want a repeat.)  The piece I have been cast in is choreographed by the Head of our Dance Dept, Julie and has 8 dancers in it.  It is called 'autobigraphy' and incorporates text and movement.  The really fun part is that we are deciding what the text is, as it is a combination of our life stories.  She wants us to write something that sums up who we are, create movement to go with it, and then she is going to sculpt it into a cohesive piece.  The whole process is creative and collaborative, as we work with ease in an open schedule.  We have until December to put this thing together, for Christ's sake!  How amazing to have time to make mistakes and find the creation in everything.  I am loving it.

So I wrote one story...the story of my brother and I... to use but Julie thinks it is too much about him and not enough about me.  So today after my jazz class, I stayed to play in the studio and wouldn't you know, a million ideas came to mind once I made the commitment to play.  Here is the text I came up with...It's called "Feet".  What do you think?

I love my feet

They take me where I need to be

They know where I've been

They can shop in any shoe store at any time

       regardless of the size of my thighs

They are strong when I am not 

They are graceful when I am not

They know when to stop when I do not

They know when to run when I do not

They know where I'm going when I've lost my way

I have gypsy feet

I have pictures of my feet standing at guideposts in this journey

  Pompeii, the French Quarter, Central Park, the Taj Mahal

    Baltic Sea, Mediterranean Sea, Ganges River, Lake Superior

      Teatro Politeama, Red October Hall, Lincoln Center, the Southern

        Next to friend, family, lovers & mentors

          I love my gypsy feet...I am grateful for how well they travel

My feet hate socks.

Always have

My only temper tantrums as a child involved socks.

  They just never felt right.

Maybe my feet don't like feeling the world through a censor

(just like me)

Or maybe they don't like being held in

(just like me)

Or maybe it's just those damn itchy seams across the toes

Like me, my feet prefer freedom to sensibility

I fell in love with the first man

  who kissed the arch of my foot

    before the curve of my body

      and that has made all the difference.

My feet know how to dance

Maybe that's why I love them so much.

Did you know that once, after taking a full six-year break from it, I put on a pair of tap shoes and it all came back in the span of ten minutes?

Have you ever heard of such magical feet?

Me neither.

My feet walk away when it's bad for me.

Even when it's people that I love with every other part of me.

My feet know first when it's time to cut my losses.

My feet get antsy if I stay in one place for too long.

Maybe that's why I move so much

Or why I am a perpetual long distance friend and girlfriend

My feet get bored

My feet want more

My feet need to see new things

My feet don't believe in good enough

My feet have something to prove

My feet won't take no for an answer

My feet are certain

My feet are confident

My feet know the journey is long and has barely begun

My feet are beautiful

In shades of callus you can't even handle

In hues of hardened blister that will make your eyes tear in wonder

In tones of scar that will speak to your soul about what beauty actually is

My feet will blow your mind.

and the rest of me... well, that's not so bad either.