"But I'm just not creative!" It shocks me now, every time I hear it uttered. It shocked me when it used to come out of my own mouth.
"And there was a huge explosion," my little chapbook reads, "which, as you know, is the quickest way to get things done. The explosion was not the beginning-- just the next change . . . We are all divisions of it, down to an elemental level. We change it changes itself."
Several days before Halloween, which is a delightful way to begin a story, I received a question. Onça’s message asked why I believed that we, as a subculture of dancers, have felt drawn to incorporating a womanly sacredness into our lives. And the question cut to the heart of the maze of words I’ve been walking lately.