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Posts from the ‘dancing’ Category

Strange Opening

The gap you left
Must be filled
With a new kind of love
Your body
On my body
The perfect dance
Of how it should be
But things are
What they are
And we twist and turn
Caught in the knot of reality
How to surrender
Breath by breath
Without giving up?
A dive into dark
And a longing for life
Leads the way
Unknown
To a strange opening
Freshly lit
By a light touch
And a fledgling trust
That something
Will
Happen

 

 

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A Beautiful Dream

Grit flying in my face and the wind in my hair
I went to dismantle the illusion that held you here
A castle on top of a hill overlooking a lake
I climbed the stairs to the place where you must have been
Only hours before
Just to feel you a little longer
Together we hauled planks of wood
Packed up condiments and cake
Stacked the remains of a beautiful dream
Until later
Dirty hot and riding in the back of a tractor
Wedged between fridges and weights and shelves
My body aching from longing and heavy lifting
I returned to my van for a lie down
To find your scent still hanging in the air
Dressing my hair
And the sheets of the bed we broke together
I lay down with you in mind
The memory of your shape against mine
The laughter and luminous joy of our last night’s play
I thought of the way you conjure words that weave magic and mystery around my mermaid smile
While mine are blunt and crude as my fear of losing you
When I awoke chilly and alone
And saw that Berlin is big and you are far
I felt disheartened and bewildered
Until I remembered
That this desolate spinning star
Revolves on the fuel of the fire we breathe
In and out of each other
Somewhat revived
I put on my oceanic beads and went out to join the dancing and goodbyes
Later as the sun failed to rise
I packed up my own illusion
Burning with the sadness of not being held
Grabbed my guitar and headed for the slippery train
So hard to hold onto anything
As the remains of summer kiss the bright sky
I watch the past unfold into the present at alarming speed
And wonder what will become of us
Now the damage is done

Longing in Berlin

Longing in Berlin
In some strange way, belonging
to my longing
In Berlin
Ich verliere mich
auf den Strassen, am Ufer,
durch Baustelle
Hey miss, one kiss! Kennst du
was ist bisou?
Yes I know, und ich warte
auf den Kuss eines anderen
Bis dann I am
Running in Berlin
Half an hour, cross the Treptower
Into the Plantenwald
Peace, says the guru,
Cannot be found but through love
Und bei dir hatt’ich beide
Deswegen bin ich hier
Diving in Berlin
Into the deep blue green unknown
of the present moment
Dirty and profound
That’s where I make my home
just now
Thrown out of my own story
Strung out by the search for
paper glory
Suddenly am Fluss
Wide, wet, open, growing
to the sound of my overflowing
heart, I am singing in Berlin
That’s my thing after all
We are creating, he says,
This world we are living in
Breath by breath by word by step
by look by text by laugh, my love
I am dancing in Berlin
I’ve found a place
I can be myself
Broken open genuine
Living breathing laughing
Crying waking loving dying
Losing bruising
Choosing to be here
with everything that brings
The joyful sad belonging
To this endless crazy
Longing in Berlin

Huge mistakes, mistakes that were huge…

“Huge mistakes, mistakes that were huge…”
(Sean Penn as Sam in I Am Sam)

I’ve made some pretty big mistakes lately. (huge mistakes, mistakes that were huge.) Or maybe they weren’t mistakes. Or maybe they were. But that’s not really the point. The point is I made them. In good faith! Motivated, as always, by a desire to further develop the intimate connection with myself that this life offers, and of course, perhaps more dangerously, with others. Everything I do comes from here, from the desire to give and receive love fully, with abandon. Well, so sometimes it goes horribly bastard wrong. I walk into the fire and I get absolutely fucking scorched. But tonight as I arrived home to a freshly empty house and faced what may or may not be the truth of my situation, I had a new thought: what if it’s ok to make mistakes? And not just ok…What if they are even great, my mistakes? And the seemingly inconsequential small ones that slip drearily through the net…what if they’re ok too? What if instead of sitting at home beating myself to a pulp with a horsehair whip (I’m not actually doing that, if it were even possible) I could dance, dance naked in my room (or maybe with just a sports bra and appallingly tight lycra shorts on) like a madwoman (whatever that is) and celebrate my huge fucking mistakes, safe in the (lack of) knowledge that I will never actually know whether they were mistakes or not, because who I am now is partly because of them. And who I am now is definitely wiser as a result. Who I am now is learning to be itself the hard nasty brutal boring way with lots of potholes and although it is painful and infuriating to keep on falling in, surely that doesn’t preclude having a little jig at the bottom and a grand knees up when one finally climbs out?

“In the name of heaven and earth, you can afford to make love to yourself”
(Chögyam Trungpa, Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior)

Amen to that.

 

Bog-handling, and other end of year musings

This Winter I have walked through many bogs. Some I entered deliberately, others I just sort of ended up in. Today I went for a walk to wash my boots in the stream and on the way back found myself in yet another bog. This led me to contemplate a few bog-related matters.

1)   There will always be another bog. It is fruitless to hanker after a bogless reality.

2)   I do not especially mind whether I am in a bog or not. Some people are having the time of their lives in bogs. It really doesn’t matter.

3)   The word ‘bog’ is pleasingly simple and direct. Everyone knows what a bog is. A bog is not trying to be anything other than itself.

4)   Bogs don’t last forever.

5)   Nobody is going to save you from the bog. I realise now that many of the songs I have written up until now have actually been about bogs. For example the song ‘Save Me,’ on my EP released earlier this year: heavy mental boggery. ‘Skin,’ also on the EP: all bogs are subject to change.

On the way home I noticed I had also been formulating some new year’s resolutions, inspired in part by the National Federation of Fish Friers. Here they are, in no particular order:

  1. walk up more hills in the rain
  2. create things just for fun
  3. stop giving up being an actor
  4. cultivate camaraderie

    “Bringing the fish and chip industry together since 1913”

  5. come up with a good way to describe your music to people at parties
  6. stop worrying about how to describe your music to people at parties
  7. stop lamenting the fact that you are a crazy perfectionist and find a manager who is able to handle your turbulent genius
  8. love and be loved, make love, give love
  9. dance more
  10. expect less

Happy new year everyone

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