Equinox and Awakening

dear delicious, delirious, darkening dancers,

The Equinox is here. are you striving for balance, equanimity, acceptance? out my studio window, i see that all the plums have dropped from the neighbor's tree, and are rotting in the dust of my didn't-quite-become-a-vegetable-garden-ok-next-year-for-sure. a squirrel, bug-eyed, the tip of his tail wrapped up to fashion a modified mohawk on his furry head, has found one, though, and seems determined to polish it off. oops! he sees me seeing him, and picks his way through the slender branches to presumed safety, dropping the half-eaten plum back into the dust.

Having trouble letting go of summer dreams, love affairs, fruit fallen or otherwise? startled by the hot/cold, blue/grey shifts in the air and sky? aliveness can be embraced as a gift when we open to surprise, change, disappointment with grounded curiosity and an awakened soul.

Please join me for Awake, My Soul, my first daylong workshop in Berkeley, Saturday, October 16, 11am-5pm at Western Sky, 2525 Eighth St, Berkeley 94710. this extended time together will offer many possibilities to move with presence and awareness, startled or not. Cost: $50 if payment received by 10/4; $65 if received thereafter, or at the door, space willing. Registration: PayPal (don't need an account to use this option).

Payment Options

Early Riser: Sign Up By 10/4 $50.00 Easy Riser: After 10/4 $65.00

Or send a check to Michael Zipkin, 447 Beloit Avenue, Kensington, CA 94708. Queries? lucid.ocean@gmail.com; 510-847-7736. And we will dance. Oh, yes, we will dance.

The Simplicity of Silence, and of One Word Only

dear disarming dancers,
Soul Motion 101:

1. Spiraling into silence
2. listening
3. offering the gift of gesture.

thank you, David.
when one writes, he writes for many.

Enough
These few words are enough
If not these words, this breath
If not this breath, this sitting here.
This opening to the life we have
refused again and again
Until now.

It is Not Enough
It is not enough to know.
It is not enough to follow
the inward road conversing in secret.

It is not enough to see straight ahead,
to gaze at the unborn
thinking the silence belongs to you.

It is not enough to hear
even the tiniest edge of rain.

You must go to the place
where everything waits,
there, when you finally rest,
even one word will do,
one word or the palm of your hand
turning outward
in the gesture of gift.

And now we are truly afraid
to find the great silence
asking so little.

One word, one word only.

What If This Were Enough? What Remains?

dear dedicated dance dreamers,
Happy new moon, Eid ul-Fitr (end of the fasting month of Ramadan), Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year), and any and all other calls to awakening i may be too asleep to notice. New possibilities abound; an empty slate awaits our particular scrawling dance of chalk-dusted feet or hands or eyes divine, dead or otherwise.
When do these imperatives, however, turn towards the tricky track of "improvement," however well-intentioned? Re: the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur--can i somehow make up for the wasted time/bad behavior/ill-fitted fantasies of the previous 355 days as the drop-dead deadline for the Big Thumb (up or down, squeaking into or slammed out of, finally, the Book of Life for one more year) is a mere ten days away? So much to change! So little time! So much shpilkis!
Howsabout, just this once, we stand where we are, appreciate who we are, feel our roots in the dirt even as the inner and outer winds blast through each moment of this endless journey?
Nothing to do, nowhere to go but down and in, deeper, still.