ohhhhhh yahhhhh...that's why I do this.

Last night's performance went well. I had a really good time. I got to see work by people I've heard about but have never seen before. There were so many other performers and such a great backstage area that I had the opportunity to meet some wonderful people, too.

Most importantly, dancing last night answered for me the big distressing question of the day (ok well, yesterday), "why perform?"

At the end of the night, I was loading my wheelchair into the car, and these two ladies were getting into their car next to me. They were maybe 65+ and 75+....and the younger of the two stopped to talk to me. She just loved the Anicca piece Eric showed (that I danced in). She said that the whole evening of dance last night was wonderful, but that it was Eric's piece that would stay with her forever. She said that there were many images from the piece that were already burning their way into her brain and she was sure that these images would stay with her for a very long time. I explained that I could relate, because when I first saw Eric's work with NightMarsh in 2004, it haunted me for so long that I wrote him about it, and that's pretty much how I've ended up being part of his new work.

So silly me. That's right. I forgot.
I forgot why I perform.
I forgot about what art does to me.
When I see other people's art...when other people create something...it often forces me to think. Sometimes in my witnessing art, I am challenged to grow.
Art has an affect on me.

And I love being able to give that back and be a part of the cycle.
Partially just for the sake of giving something back.
Partially for the "emotional twister" game I discussed here the other day.
I'm intrigued by how we all play off of each other in this little game of life.

I was very glad to be reminded of this...because driving over to the University last night, I was feeling exactly the opposite. I having one of those "what the hell is it all for, are we all just rats in a maze, then we die?" kind of moments.
--------------------------------

Ok. Enough of that.
We have important things to talk about.
Let's talk about those little Engrish knitting bags ;-)

For starters, I had no idea y'all would like them so much. You guy are neat. Yay!

I'm sorry to report that there were only two of the black "mind goes to seed" bags at the Japanese Dollar Store. I bought both with the plan that I'd give the second one away to the first person who admired mine (there is a story behind that plan, it will follow). That first person was Jodi, so once I figure out where to send it, off it goes.

There was a bunch of the tan ones about romance, and there was a pile of burgundy and navy-blue ones. I can't remember what they said, though. I don't recall them being nearly as funny as the first two, but I'm driving past there today and will stop and snap a few photos. If you guys want them, I'll get them. My pleasure. (I just had this hilarious image, like a commercial for jeans or something, a slow motion shot of a row of knitters all walking down the middle of the street laughing and knitting with their little bags on their wrists. Man, it's way too early in the morning for me to be blogging).
----------------------------------------

The Necklace.
(an essay on the fly, so please excuse any lack of editing)

I've had this necklace for a very long time. I'm guessing about 16 years or so.
It was given to me by a complete stranger, a man I met once briefly, and then never saw again.

I used to sometimes visit a church called Glide Memorial. It's in this interesting neighborhood in San Francisco. It's kind of right between Union Square (high end shopping destination and theater distrcit) and the Tenderloin (seedy neighborhood, heavy on the sex industry and the homeless ).

I don't know if I can paint an accurate picture of Glide for you or not, but let me start by saying that it is a spirtual place, it is a religious place, and its walls exclude no one. On any Sunday I could sit down in a pew and have a woman in a business suit to my left, and a homeless person to my right. There was every color person and nationality you can imagine there, and every sexual orientation, as well. I don't belong to the Christian faith, but I've never felt out of place there. Instead of crosses on the wall and bibles in the pews, there were inspirational banners flying. When services would start, the most rockin' choir you can imagine would come out, and the vibrational energy of the whole room would make me feel like a human tuning fork, and I'd almost always get teared up.

Anyhow, one day there was this beautiful man...I'll never forget him. He was wearing this sort of hemp like shirt and a safari hat. He was there with his partner....they were in the row to my left and across an aisle...and they were talking with friends about their recent trip to Africa (eavesdropping, I was). Our paths crossed in the aisle at some point, and I stopped him to comment on his necklace. It was a braid of leather with cowry shells hanging off it, and it looked so amazing with his dark skin and his ensemble. I asked him if I could look at the necklace closer to see how the shells were mounted onto the leather...and he took it off and let me look at it, while telling me about where in Africa he'd picked it up, and about how much he loved it because of all the things it reminded him of. It was a beautiful necklace with a beautiful story.

About mid-way through the service....coming down the aisle towards me, handed from person to person, was a package. It was wrapped in tissue paper that had an old weathered map printed on it, and it was tied with a braid of green cord (I still have the wrap in a specail box). I peered down the aisle to figure out who the package was being passed to, and the man with the necklace was signaling that it was for me. I opened it up, and it was his necklace...and he mimed that I should put it on.

After the services I said, "I can't keep this! This is special to you!"

And he said, "Yes, you can. You see, I loved it so much, that when I bought it, I bought two...and I made a plan that the first person that admired it would get the second necklace. You were the first person who admired it. And I held back from giving it to you. I think somewhere in my head I had planned all along that it would be one of my friends that would admire it, and that it would be some kind of special symbol between us...that as time would go by, I would see my friend wearing the necklace and it would mean something to me. But my rule to myself was to give it to the first person, and I realize now that by not giving it to you, a complete stranger....it totally takes away the reason I bought it. It was meant to be something I would give. It's not supposed to be a mirror that I can see my generosity and happiness reflected back at me."

I love this necklace. Not because of the way it looks, but for what it stands for. I only think I've worn it just a few times, but it has hung from the rearview mirror of every car I've driven since it was given to me. I wanted to be sure to see it every day as a reminder to be a one who gives and spreads love.

But the last few years it has hung from the rearview of a car I dont drive anymore. My dead '71 VW Bus with the pop-top that sits lonely backed into my driveway. The one that needs a new engine so it sits there being a storage unit for my camping gear. The one I'll never be able to drive again if I do get her fixed, because I can't drive a car with a clutch now that I only have one leg.

I see the necklace out the corner of my eye every once in awhile as I park the Volvo.
And recently it's been haunting me.

A few weeks back, my best friend asked me for help. Big help. Daily help with her kid until the end of the school year. A big commitment. A commitment of time. And in this age of high gas prices, a commitment of finances.

In trying to decide whether or not I could accept the responsibility or not, I was talking it out with another friend, and I acutally heard myself say, "Well, it's not like I can just do this out of the goodness of my own heart or something...."

And I was stunned.

I could not believe I was actually saying that.

My best friend needed help, and I can't help out of the goodness of my own heart???
My best friend who lied and said she was my sister so she could get into the ICU so that I wouldn't be alone when my family left to get some rest?
My best friend who has supported me through thick and thin (and we're talkin' both viscous and watery here) and through all kinds of joys and sorrows?
My best friend who was with me while I gave birth to my son?
My best friend of 12 years??
WTF???!!!

And if I wont do something out of the goodness of my heart for my best friend, how on earth must I be treating everyone else??!

I've been thinking about this for weeks.

And I've been trying to make slow and very concious choices to give instead of being greedy with my...well, with my everything. I mean, for awhile there, after the accident, "hoarding myself to myself" so I could harness that energy and use it to heal seemed important.
And legitimate.

But I'm still doing it.
Like some paranoid fight or flight mechanism.

"fear of lack"

I dont want to live this way.

So when I fell in love with the little Engrish knitting bag, I bought two.
Small thing. Big thing.
And one I hadn't planned on writing about...I just kinda wanted to mail it out quietly. This is not about me tooting my horn here. This is not about seeking a mirror for my generosity, either.
So shhhhh about my giving of dollar store knitting bags. I'm not sharing bags, I'm sharing a message.

It's not often I get to spread the good word.
And it is a good word, I think.

And today I've taken the necklace out of The Bus so that it can hang in the Volvo.