I am sitting here at the computer. Delaying again.
Much as I love writing, I really need to be heading through the grey, dreary day to the dance studio to work on my new solo. The one that I keep spinning and that then keeps slipping through my fingers.
I have started and re-started so many times now, I cannot even recall where I’ve been. So many interruptions and distractions. So many ideas and inspirations. Perhaps too many, if there is such a thing. At least too many for one piece.
The need to create this new work is like an itch that needs to be scratched. But I just cannot seem to reach it, to gain traction. Yet.
Last night, I realized that the one thing I haven’t done is the key thing: showing up. Every artist knows that–you’ve got to show up. Now that my dance company is on hold and I’m working solo for a bit, I am out of any regular rehearsal schedule. Time to buck up and set one.
Sure, I’ve danced around the kitchen a bit. I’ve thought and thought and written ideas. I’ve intentionally NOT thought about the piece. Hoping that turning my attention elsewhere would allow the dance the space to materialize. I’ve put energy into opening up to inspiration, on being available. I’ve listened to music. And more music–always a fertile muse for me.
But, no. I have not gone to the studio just for this purpose in some time. I always half-dread it. The aloneness, the uncertainty; what if nothing comes?
Basta! Time to go dance. That’s the thing about dance, and so many things, for that matter. Talking about it, writing about it, dreaming of it, hoping for it, are all grand.
But to dance? The only thing for it: dance. Dance, baby, dance.