present.
life is not gone from this place--the giant simply takes longer and deeper breaths than it used to.
i took a drawing class this summer for which our teacher said our final could be whatever we wanted as long as it involved twenty hours of preparatory work. the results were presented at the end and varied, from some projects that could not have been done earlier than the night before, and others that put my own twenty hours to shame.
among the physical final presentations (usually something printed or painted on a page or board), was one performance piece. a young woman, who shares my name and is probably within two years of my age but made me feel very young and naive while in the same room with me, told our class to wait in a separate room for a few minutes and then join her down the hall.
we sat in our classroom, discussing and giggling about what we might be in for. "i'll bet it has something to do with sexuality," said my teacher in the most adult way that sentence can be said. "why else would she be doing it this way?" most of the class disagreed-- i did not. i had no clue what was coming, but something in me said that he couldn't be far from the truth.
when we entered the room we were directed to, we were met with a twelve-foot ladder in its center. at the foot of the ladder were a pair of platform heels, an off-color shirt/dress, and a thong. on top of the ladder sat our classmate, naked.
she sat with her knees toward her chest, trying to look comfortable but not straight at us. the ruse worked, to a certain extent. she said nothing to us as we sat, looking up at her.
a teacher of mine said once, and i repeated here, that there is great power being the naked one in room. he was speaking figuratively, but i'll assure you, the rule still works literally. she controlled where our eyes were and were not, she controlled what was in my mind and made me rethink every move i made. what is my posture? where am i supposed to look? what will people think of me if they look at me and i'm looking at her? where are my hands? would i have the confidence to do that? is confidence what one needs for that? why is nudity so stigmatized in my world? i was struck, however, that the last time i felt anything remotely like this--watching a peer do something revealing and bold-- i was in wheaton's theater. no moment in particular, just a memory of learning how to breathe, how to support someone else by simply being present and connected with what was going on in the space. i won't say i felt connected to her or what she was doing, because i'm not sure i did, but i remembered the practice of being connected.
after a time passed (was it five minutes? ten?) she took a breath and asked if someone could grab her clothes and hand them up to her so she could get dressed and come down. without hesitating a moment, i was out of my seat with her clothes and halfway up the ladder. maybe i was connected to her, after all.
i tell this story to explain this:
in most days, i feel a little disconnected. the world is through a pane of glass, or being shown to me through a television screen. i feel like i'm very good at disconnecting, at putting myself into my own little world, etc.
there's probably more to be said, but i'm tired.
i took a drawing class this summer for which our teacher said our final could be whatever we wanted as long as it involved twenty hours of preparatory work. the results were presented at the end and varied, from some projects that could not have been done earlier than the night before, and others that put my own twenty hours to shame.
among the physical final presentations (usually something printed or painted on a page or board), was one performance piece. a young woman, who shares my name and is probably within two years of my age but made me feel very young and naive while in the same room with me, told our class to wait in a separate room for a few minutes and then join her down the hall.
we sat in our classroom, discussing and giggling about what we might be in for. "i'll bet it has something to do with sexuality," said my teacher in the most adult way that sentence can be said. "why else would she be doing it this way?" most of the class disagreed-- i did not. i had no clue what was coming, but something in me said that he couldn't be far from the truth.
when we entered the room we were directed to, we were met with a twelve-foot ladder in its center. at the foot of the ladder were a pair of platform heels, an off-color shirt/dress, and a thong. on top of the ladder sat our classmate, naked.
she sat with her knees toward her chest, trying to look comfortable but not straight at us. the ruse worked, to a certain extent. she said nothing to us as we sat, looking up at her.
a teacher of mine said once, and i repeated here, that there is great power being the naked one in room. he was speaking figuratively, but i'll assure you, the rule still works literally. she controlled where our eyes were and were not, she controlled what was in my mind and made me rethink every move i made. what is my posture? where am i supposed to look? what will people think of me if they look at me and i'm looking at her? where are my hands? would i have the confidence to do that? is confidence what one needs for that? why is nudity so stigmatized in my world? i was struck, however, that the last time i felt anything remotely like this--watching a peer do something revealing and bold-- i was in wheaton's theater. no moment in particular, just a memory of learning how to breathe, how to support someone else by simply being present and connected with what was going on in the space. i won't say i felt connected to her or what she was doing, because i'm not sure i did, but i remembered the practice of being connected.
after a time passed (was it five minutes? ten?) she took a breath and asked if someone could grab her clothes and hand them up to her so she could get dressed and come down. without hesitating a moment, i was out of my seat with her clothes and halfway up the ladder. maybe i was connected to her, after all.
i tell this story to explain this:
in most days, i feel a little disconnected. the world is through a pane of glass, or being shown to me through a television screen. i feel like i'm very good at disconnecting, at putting myself into my own little world, etc.
there's probably more to be said, but i'm tired.