This post is inspired by MISSion Amy K.R., one of the WBEZ (Chicago Public Radio) blogs, where they conspired to save summer by making people jump at the same time on one designated night and encouraged people to stage their own gallery shows a la Philippe Halsman’s iconic photography book/exhibit Jump, and indeed, to Jump for Joy!
Naturally, I am recycling photos we took at the Outer Banks…
Ok. I lied. I went to the theatre with three boys under twelve with ants in their pants, what do you think? Just had to use it in my title because it is THE favorite album of mine, that’s all.
We went to see a Broadway musical… in Chicago… I wish I could tell you that I saw Spamalot.
Shut up! This is a hold-up, not a botany lesson. I want you to hand over all the lupins you've got.
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Or Wicked. Or The Lion King. Or Billy Elliot. But Nooooo….
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It is a musical based on a Disney movie. Like, 100% based on the movie... Wouldn't it have been enough to just watch the movie, again?
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Every time I walk into one of these classic theatres, I am startled by the beauty inside. The ornate, intricate designs overwhelm the senses and quicken my heart. Faced with the beauty, I feel guilty for not dressing up. I imagine that the walls and the chandeliers whisper, “We wish you had taken the effort to look as good as we do and help us remember those days…”
Instead, Serendipity! I came across this video/poem today.
“How to Be Alone”
It is the perfect remedy we need in order to recover from the highs and lows after fighting through our fears of opening ourselves up and meeting strangers. The powerful reminder to combat that gnawing insecurity, that tiny voice, that propels you to down five shots of vodka within the first 30 minutes of setting your foot in a party so that you can be the Dancing Queen that you dream of being. The talisman to arm ourselves with next time we attend any social occasion when ironically we often inadvertently feel so alone within the crowd.
Watch this.
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I came across this beautifully written and performed poem through It Is Monday… Thinking Moment. The filmmaker is Andrea Dorfman, and the simple yet profound words were written and performed by Tanya Davis.
I cannot help but reprint the entire poem here just so I can read the words, slowly, hoping to absorb them into my being, to have them become part of the fiber of my soul.
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How to Be Alone
by Tanya Davis
If you are at first lonely, be patient.
If you’ve not been alone much, or if when you were, you weren’t okay with it, then just wait. You’ll find it’s fine to be alone once you’re embracing it.
We could start with the acceptable places, the bathroom, the coffee shop, the library. Where you can stall and read the paper, where you can get your caffeine fix and sit and stay there. Where you can browse the stacks and smell the books. You’re not supposed to talk much anyway so it’s safe there.
There’s also the gym. If you’re shy you could hang out with yourself in mirrors, you could put headphones in.
And there’s public transportation, because we all gotta go places.
And there’s prayer and meditation. No one will think less if you’re hanging with your breath seeking peace and salvation.
Start simple. Things you may have previously based on your avoid being alone principals.
The lunch counter. Where you will be surrounded by chow-downers. Employees who only have an hour and their spouses work across town and so they — like you — will be alone.
Resist the urge to hang out with your cell phone.
When you are comfortable with eat lunch and run, take yourself out for dinner. A restaurant with linen and silverware. You’re no less intriguing a person when you’re eating solo dessert to cleaning the whipped cream from the dish with your finger. In fact some people at full tables will wish they were where you were.
Go to the movies. Where it is dark and soothing. Alone in your seat amidst a fleeting community.
And then, take yourself out dancing to a club where no one knows you. Stand on the outside of the floor till the lights convince you more and more and the music shows you. Dance like no one’s watching…because, they’re probably not.
And, if they are, assume it is with best of human intentions. The way bodies move genuinely to beats is, after all, gorgeous and affecting. Dance until you’re sweating, and beads of perspiration remind you of life’s best things, down your back like a brook of blessings.
Go to the woods alone, and the trees and squirrels will watch for you.
Go to an unfamiliar city, roam the streets, they are always statues to talk to, and benches made for sitting gives strangers a shared existence if only for a minute, and these moments can be so uplifting and the conversation you get in by sitting alone on benches, might of never happened had you not been there by yourself.
Society is afraid of alone though. Like lonely hearts are wasting away in basements. Like people must have problems if after awhile nobody is dating them.
But lonely is a freedom that breaths easy and weightless, and lonely is healing if you make it.
You can stand swaffed by groups and mobs or hands with your partner, look both further and farther in the endless quest for company.
But no one is in your head. And by the time you translate your thoughts an essence of them maybe lost or perhaps it is just kept. Perhaps in the interest of loving oneself, perhaps all those sappy slogans from pre-school over to high school groaning, we’re tokens for holding the lonely at bay.
Cause if you’re happy in your head, then solitude is blessed, and alone is okay.
It’s okay if no one believes like you, all experiences unique, no one has the same synapses, can’t think like you, for this be relived, keeps things interesting, life’s magic brings much, and it doesn’t mean you aren’t connected, and the community is not present, just take the perspective you get from being one person in one head and feel the effects of it.
Take silence and respect it.
If you have an art that needs a practice, stop neglecting it, if your family doesn’t get you or a religious sect is not meant for you, don’t obsess about it.
You could be in an instant surrounded if you need it.
The comment by Justin from Here where I Have Landed on my earlier post Things I Missed echoed my experience and feeling: … when I tell people that I wasn’t born here, and that I came here to go to college, they’re consistently surprised, “What? But your English is so good!” like it’s completely unnatural [...]
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