Dancing with gravity.

Missteps and the space between movement and stillness.

Thought is weight, the teacher explains.

I move slowly, arms hanging limp.

Let them dangle as if liquid was dripping out of the fingertips. Those were the instructions. Feel the heaviness.

I’m taking a dance class in SoHo. It’s called Butoh, the Japanese post-war, avant-garde “dance of darkness.” A strange and mesmerizing exploration of weight, space, and mortality that defies definition.

Butoh class confronts me with my desire to escape the discomfort of liminal space. A chapter is closing and I want to move, move on, forward, upward, to clarity and prosperity. Enough already with the confusion and the heaviness. Enough!

I am looking for speed.

Butoh asks about my capacity for patience and presence.

If I let my arm fall, how long does it dangle? How quickly does my body step in, tense up, and suppress the movement? Can I make truly small movements?

How much space do I experience between actions?

How hard is it to just be?

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I don’t like to feel lonely. I mean, who does? But what I hate, what gives me the ick, is to admit that I feel that way. Loneliness? That smells like failure, like weakness. It sounds needy and helpless. Eww. No!

I hear two critical voices, an impossible double-bind.

Disgust at my lack of independence: Don’t depend on others for your happiness! Also, disappointment: How are you going to be with the World’s Coolest Woman if you can’t form healthy bonds? Don’t get side-tracked!

My desire for independence is trying to protect me. But you can’t be safe and create. You have to step into the dance. And you have to accept stumbles along the way.

A few weeks ago, I hosted a second online journaling session. Except I found myself alone on the Zoom call. Ooops!

In the back of my mind, I knew the moment contained many lessons. Thursday evening during a turbulent week in markets and politics. Impossible for people overseas while the locals were just trying to get a bit of rest.

But also: was my offering interesting enough? Was I bringing everything I knew to the table? Was I giving my space enough energy?

But that was the level of mind. In my body, I felt crushed.