I have a rather expensive hobby of collecting books about dance. I have an Amazon wish list of hundreds of books that I long to add to my collection. Every once in a while, I can't resist the temptation and buy a few. The latest addition to my collection is The Place of Dance by Andrea Olsen with Caryn McHose. I highly recommend it. The books is broken into tasks to do, to dance, and to write. Huzzah! More writing entry points to use for this blog :)
Today I will answer the question, "What do you care about, and how is that reflected in your work?"
I care about honesty, vulnerability, and genuine interactions. I want to respond truthfully in the moment. I want the spontaneity of improvisation within the structure of choreography. The choreography said that this was going to happen, but it unfolded in this moment, allowing space for genuine responses. I saw you, held you, brushed, lifted, touched, directed, received what was given to me today.
I care about you. I care about you the dancer, you the audience, you my student, you my critic, you my biggest fan. I want you to feel cared about, taken care of, listened to, supported. I care about listening to all those involved and letting their collective wisdom wash over me. You can listen to anyone without loosing yourself. Listening acknowledges differences, but does not require you to change. It requires openness, calmness, and peace, not always a giving in.
I care about learning. What have I discovered along the way? I want doors to open when I create. I want my mind to learn new pathways and make new connections.
I care about laughter. Life is best filled with joy even amongst the darkness nights. Theres is a satisfaction in knowing that you are alive, present, and able. Able to watch, able to create, able to move, breath, be present. And that thought makes me smile, and giggle, and wonder at the immense pleasure that is life.
I care about leaving something behind. I care about leaving a trace. I want all involved to be left with a feeling, a picture, a memory of what was created and performed. I care about being remembered. I care about leaving my mark, my stamp on the art form.
I care about perspectives. I love hearing your story of how you got here. I care about getting to know people and their outlooks on life. What memories do they cherish? What are the things that are held onto? What is painful, private, and whispered? What is shouted out for all to hear? How do we define who we are as people and what matters to us?
I care about traveling, feeling alive in the discovery of some place new. I feel renewed with each new discovery, renewed with the unfolding of memories of places I once was. I have a deep sense of place. Landscapes cleanse my soul. There is a deep satisfaction in arriving, of breathing in the newness, and letting go of all that way. Returning home after traveling feels like a fresh start to life. The world is viewed with new lenses.
I care about rocking chairs, gardens, large expansive porches, wide open spaces, the stars, lush, green landscapes, peaceful nooks and corners, the smell of paper, the easy gliding of a pen as I'm writing, the sound of music that speaks to my heart, beginnings and ends, reaching, expanding, and growing. I care about my husband, family, and friends, children, all children everywhere. I care about this being read, that someone has heard my voice and can relate or be surprised that someone could be possibly care about these things. Because I do. I care.