Brandy and I met during a Donna Mejia workshop, and it was her honesty-- her raw, unformed questions about what we were learning-- that entranced me. It was her divine cackle that left me draped over my steering wheel, wiping away laugh-tears. It's probably simplest to say that Brandy brings joy into my life.
When I lay all seven Touchstones out, side-by-side, Circle is smack-dab in the center. In an ideal world, we would be able to have our shit figured out before we sit in Circle, and yet we wake up there, messy, in media res.
"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.
These women are glamorous, articulate, and opinionated. They're dancers, musicians, visual artists, aerialists, and circus performers who capture my very imagination.
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.
Recently, I crossed a writing milestone: 40% complete with my rough draft. I only wish I could calculate how much of that has involved a Siamese fur barnacle purring against my left leg.
