Shimmering Sparkles

Hoops check, diablo check, hats check, show balls check, fabrics check, mini rigs check, iPod check.

"Shall we take some mats to sit on?" Ashley asks, in the kind and calm way that she so often does. We agree to take four, and that I'll be the one to take them. We head out the door in single file, half costumed up, circus props over our shoulders and march down the stairs. I spring down a few marble steps, feeling a lightness of being and a flicker of excitement, then I jump back and almost pull out a pair of jazz hands, I've forgotten the mats! The dancer in me hasn't quite found the circus performer just yet! Although I'm getting there, with a few hoop tricks from Ashley, and prop reminders from the rest of the team.

Restlessness and anxiety has been on my mind this week. In fact it's been on my mind since about December. I can't quite recall now, but I had an insight, just a small one, after being on retreat and winter was drawing in. It was around the difficulty I have in sitting with myself, in accepting who I am, and what I'm feeling, now, in this moment. I know it doesn't sound so grandiose or insightful, but it has revealed something quite special. Something that sparkles, and has poise and grace. I'm not quite sure what this shimmering sparkle is, but I can feel it, rippling into my experience, revealing my fear, and the machine like response I have to it. Acting from it, creating stress from it, and tiring my self out. I had an image of a sweet old lady, withered and wiry, hunched over, with no fat on her body. Hair scrapped back, a dull cardigan over a polyester dress that hangs from her emaciated skeleton. She moves with a spiky energy, like a squirrel, not stoping, only doing, eyes darting, scanning the horizon for the next thing to do.  I could see a twinkle in her eye, but I had to search to see it. She was energetic, wired. She was in fact tired, very tired. This insight continues to echo through the surfaces and depths of my meditation whilst in India.

As we make our way to our first circus show in kolkata (with the mats safely under my arm) I notice my sense of humour is surfacing. I feel good. After two and a half weeks of storming with the team I am beginning to experience connection and trust. I feel myself slowly beginning to shimmer. 

Arriving to the park, in the sun and smog, I bounce along feeling like I am part of the circus, no longer feeling an alien. We circumambulate the park, hearing the young children in the background, but finding no way to get to them. Eventually we find a gate without padlocks and emerge into the dusty, green park. We are faced with a swarm of children, all orphaned, all smiling, all sparkling. I wonder who they are, where they have come from, how they feel. If I am not careful, I begin to meticulously try and figure out the answers to all these questions. Become preoccupied with their experience in relation to mine, and attempt to micromanage the unmanageable. 

It brings to mind care. How have they been cared for? and how are they cared for as individuals? There are so many of them. And how do I care for myself, how do I care for others? How do we care for eachother in the team? Over the past 2 weeks I have felt unable to care for my team mates. I have felt vulnerable and exposed. Misunderstood and unseen. Only the thing is, I haven't given them the opportunity to see who I am. I have been living in fear, tirelessly grappling for control, my shimmer has dulled and only a murky matt can be seen. But these small tiny parentless beings still sparkle. They shimmer a rainbow of colours, oozing joy, springing into our lives, eager to play and connect. What an example of how we can be, despite our worries, there is space for curiosity, happiness, freedom. 

I like Kolkotta. It's a bit more spacious and western than Mumbai and i feel more at ease. Team PWB now have our own flat, we are cooking for one another, and we have a washing up rota. We are looking after eachother!

I sit here in my bedroom, which I share with Ashley, and I can hear the constant, passionate shouting of a male indian voice over a microphone. I have no idea what it's about, perhaps it's In relation to yesterday's celebration. The 65th anniversary of the indian constitution coming to being. One of the finest constitutions in the world, yet these valuable words, written down for the country of India, may as well not exist, for the country continues to live in the shadow of the caste system and extreme poverty. So what are they actaully celebrating? I'm not sure, but it reminds me of so many things throughout the world, which don't actaully mean what they are meant to mean. Countries living by empty words and ridiculous rules. One thing I have realised here, is how much freedom we do have at home, in the UK. I see the importance of action as opposed to passivity, positivity instead of negativity, finding opportunity instead of sitting back and complaining. As Martha Graham said, 

"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost"

Tonight, I see that I have a position from which I can change myself, I have the power and opportunity to act and transform for the sake of myself and others. Not everybody has this luxury. I can see this, I want to live it and I want to pass it on. 

After the ecstasy, the laundry

We performed our debut show at the beach yesterday, and after some team tensions, an exhilarating, sweaty performance, and a wonderfully gracious audience, we went for a skinny dip ;-) followed by a beer. 

This morning I woke up with a contentment that I don't often wake up with. A sense of ease that went from my fingertips to my core. I decided to give myself some space as I woke, and didn't plan to meditate, though somehow this wave of centredness carried me to my meditation stool, and I found myself sitting poised before the waves and the western joggers at 7am. I sat in the afterglow of yesterday's performance, reflecting on what it was I experienced as the show ended.

Over the last two weeks, I've made friends with a number of the necklace sellers on the beach. There is Shiva, a small framed, dark skinned indian man, with beautiful eyes and the traditional indian head wobble. An adorable little girl, Susannah the size of a 5 year old, but actually 8, she's a boisterous little character. Lucky, who's Hindi name is Chandra, a very sweet natured young introverted man. Sanjivanni, who has chosen Maria as her western name. I have become somewhat attached to Sanjivanni, she's 12 going on 20, we go swimming together, she teaches me Hindi, and we play noughts and crosses in the sand. We naturally connect on some level, and she introduced me to her little sister, Marta, and her mother Jyoti, who are also necklace sellers. There are many more sellers,  Raj, Babagee, Maria no.2, Susannah no.2, Raj No.2, Kumar, Mira, Ganga, and many more, I saw all their beaming smiles in the audience last night, wide eyes and open mouths, along with all the hippies, hippie families and their children.

Sanjivanni, like all the other sellers, is young and works hard on the beach every day. Earning money is never out of her sight, and as we finish our game of noughts and crosses or playing in the sea, she flutters her eyelashes and says "sweetie, you want necklace?" I find it difficult, but i say no, I have bought one already from Shiva,and I don't need anymore. Ocassionaly she tells me "you beautiful, me monkey" it breaks my heart, and somehow me saying "no, you're beautiful" doesn't quite do the trick. As we lay there obsessively tanning, the young indian girls wish to have white skin. I am beginning to feel the pangs of discomfort at the suffering that surrounds me. 

The necklace sellers swarmed me as the show finished, smiles, joy, compliments, cuddles, genuine and sincere whole hearted gratitude from them all, like nothing I have experienced before. Sanjivanni, the 12 year old friend I made, who works on the beach all day, donated 10 rupees to the charity. Something happened to me in that moment she handed those rupees over. At 12 years old I was asking for a Nokia phone with a changeable cover, and the latest fashion in Topshop. In that one small moment a piece of my heart opened, absorbed, melted and broke. 

I bobbed in the sea alone today, it was a calm day, with some clouds around for most of it, which hasn't happened so far. As I floated around, looking out onto the horizon, I felt infused by a completeness. I felt overwhelmed by Mother Earth, and I realised I am in the land of the Buddha, doing what I love most, how special. I also remembered I had to do my washing before we leave for Calcutta tomorrow. 

The Italian Yogi

Every night at namaste yoga farm, our home for the past week, and also the coming week, there is the sound of a vibrant lively drum circle, chanting, dancing, in the distance. Not so far away, and enviously I listen, wishing to be part of the action, sharing smiles, music, movent....... Our essence. As I write this, I hear them moving from ecstatic, repetitive, primal beats to an enchanting gentle stream like flow of the lute, lulling us all into a pool of stillness, before it picks up again, ready for another steady intense musical climax. I sit here with envy. I want to move, I want to engage, but something feels unable, a bit empty, perhaps vulnerable.

The past week has been an absolute roller coaster, and I struggle to know what to write. How to sum it up, but tonight feels like the night to write. So I'll start with stefano the yoga teacher. An Italian man, handsome physically, anatomically gifted, an impressive yoga practioner. His teaching style........... Well, after watching him pat my friends bum after he corrected her, and listening to him shout "rotate the thigh bone" what felt like 20 times, at a poor Chinese bloke who had no idea what he meant, I felt like sticking my middle finger up at him........ I refrained, and actually went back to his class this morning and was pleasantly surprised. I'm going back again tomorrow, which makes me wonder, how much of my experience in that first class was actually the reality of the situation? And how often do I do this? Write someone off as my ego boldly decides who they are for the worst? 

Working with circus artists is a whole different ball game than working with dancers. Add heat, living in eachothers pockets, and being in India to that, and emotions can run high. There have been tears, a heart to heart, strong indian beer, and LOTS of chocolate! I now feel I'm the other side of something, have met acceptance of who I am with, what is going to happen over the next 4 months, and realising that I am actually wanted on the team. 

I am thinking about "artistry" versus "tricking". The circus world is a lot about tricks and props, both of which, if I am honest, I have some contemporary dance snobbery about. I have been reminding myself this week that both are equally valuable, but actually, I really don't feel that way. For me tricking and mastering skills around an object feels empty. "Where's the red thread?" (A charismatic, small, American choreography teacher at The Place, would so often squawk at us when we presented our works in progress) . I need more substance, I need more heart.......... And it occurred to me, maybe what I am doing here, is exactly what I have been doing with stefano, the fiery Italian yoga teacher. Turning things into black and white, good and bad. Polarising in order to keep myself in an imaginarium  of safety. There is the possibility of having both, artistry and skill, and  in fact that would be far more useful. This, in fact, is why I wanted to come with the circus. How easy it is to lose sight of intention.

So I am at the end of my first day off, I am glowing a shade of brown/red. I have bought a beaded necklace from Shiva, a small Indian man who slowly walks the beaches earning a living, along with many other young girls and boys, who often stop and play with the circus toys, such beaming smiles, and cheeky business heads on top of their infant shoulders. I sat alone reading, drinking chai, swimming, and getting a bit too tanned. I have also found out that the Indian men call the hippies "calamari" because their dreads look like squids on top of their heads :-D 

I have been observing the hippies. We're not short of them, here at Kudle beach, Gokarna. Some exude a calm serenity, some an obvious self consciousness, some, I'm sure, pass me by unnoticed. The other evening I couldn't help but overhear the slightly annoying monotone Australian commentary of white middle class travel stories, ending with a brief toke on a joint and the words "nah, I never volunteer, I'm too lazy" at which point my ego inflated and I patted myself on the back. It makes me realise that I am currently very sheltered from India and all that comes with it. We need this space while we create the show, climatise and get to grips with our new family for the next four months. Here, it is clean, quiet, and most things make sense. We have another week to go before we head off for the 48 hour train journey to Kalkutta via Mumbai, and I am thinking about friendship. My friends at home, and also the friends I am going to make here. "The essence of friendship is time spent together" maitreyebhandu says in his book, thicker than blood, he also says, "The practice of friendship consists of the mutual willingness to keep repairing and maintaining it". I have already experienced my first repair and bandage this week, and we have another four months together. So, friendship, I'm certain will blossom. 

Crows and custard apples

At home, in charming East London, we often talk about the habits of the crows throughout the night, the squawking and how they can keep the "wimin" at the front of the house awake. Also, one of my favourite things to do at home, is buy apples from the fruit stall on roman road. This is because I like to make sure there it's lots of nice apples for us all to eat, that the fruit bowl is abundant and we are nourished. The man at the fruit stall also flirts outrageously with me.

In Mumbai, there are lots and lots of noisy crows, lined on the windowsills, squawking together, like they are getting a round in down at the Queen Vic, having a good old jolly together. There is also this apple I have discovered in India. The wonderfully, succulently, creamily delicious CUSTARD APPLE! Oh me, oh my, and it is certainly not the fruit stall holder enticing me into this playful love affair.

India is fascinating, busy, slow, fast, beautiful, dirty, smelly, noisy, hot, inspiring, challenging.

The last few days have been a mixture of experiences. I have been holding tightly on, battling through, to affirm my tiring self view of unfaltering independence and self sufficiency. What comes with this is an inability to sleep, and whilst squeezed into room 4 of the Salvation Army hostel in Mumbai, with 7 other lively, messy, creative circus artists, I have earnestly wrestled with the mindfulness of breathing mediation practice to try and get a wink of sleep. 

Yesterday, I gazed whimsically out the window, on the beginning of our 12 hour train journey. The sun was setting and I had Phillip glass playing through my iPod. I realsied that I am living out a deep wish of mine. For some moments I was in a movie, with the wind blowing though my hair, sipping sickly sweet chai tea, and writing in my journal. Perfect! Then darkness set in I needed the toilet and I saw Malcolm the mouse and his mate scurry past the toilet door, I went back to my sleeper and decided to listen to a talk about spiritual death by Jnanavaca (often I listen to talks by him and maitreyebhandu back home if I can't get to sleep, and it sends me right off) and I managed to slowly nod off as he encouraged the audience at the London Buddhist centre to "let go".

3am and it's time to get up, I stretch, huff, puff, internally moan at all the ridiculous organisational decisions I think everyone else is making in order to alight the train at gokarna road, and I wish I was in my cosy bed in London with the people I love around me (FYI. I also regularly internally moan about loved ones, and later realise the pain I cause myself. If only I could "let go", "spiritually die" with a little bit more grace and humility, and what not, life would be much easier. So the Buddhists say). I was wishing I was alone. I was wishing to be with the familiar, with my loved ones. The bumpy tuk tuk ride (a sweet chech republic guy called Yoseph, squeezed into our one, after he helped us alight the train with hula hoops and fire toys, he was also hoping to squeeze into our huts, we had to send the poor bloke to the beach with a torch)  they took us to the namaste yoga farm, filled with idyllic bamboo huts and tree house bedrooms, and the soundscape of waves ebbing and flowing in the distance, but  it was 5am  in the morning, and I couldn't hide my frustration from these new team members any longer. So I silently flung my limbs around like a teenager, and continued to grumpily wish for solitude and familiar faces.

This morning I sat and realised, there is no way I could have gone through the last few days alone. We all need each other. Simple as that. And these are the people I am with. Like It or lump it. And as I began to accept this, I could see the Sweet hearted, patient, generous, accepting people that they all are.  A small insight after a painful night of wanting something other than what I had. Perhaps I have successfully died spirtually....... Who knows? Ordain me now please, give me a funny name please!!! However, this isn't the point is it, so I prefer to see myself as growing downwards (as a dear friend has shared with me) passing through the depths of my gremlins and if it gets too tough, I'm going to buy myself a custard apple........or two.