I'm back from my second year at Cave Canem and as the Reverend White says, "My cup is full." I am cleaning house, though right now I can barely drag my tired, deliciously lived in body forward to do so. I am leaning left into the wind, and it has carried me from Greensburg, Pennsylvania - where I was just this morning - back West to Austin, Texas. My cup is full, I am ecstatic.
A body of people moving together in rhythm, hearts reaching for each other, through fear, through veils as Black Girl so aptly named this - this gauze that we place over our wounded hearts that keep us from seeing each other, holding each other - going so far as touching each other, literally. It is a beautiful thing when the gauze falls off, and we hold each other unpretentious and unafraid, completely aware of all that we have to lose and still willing to stand and demand love.
There are a hundred ways to take care of a body, to care for a soul. I am reminded of the balance between solitude and congregation.
The past several weeks, I have been so busy that even checking email was impossible - my communication limited to one or two sentences in response: yes, no - can I get back to you? It's a wonderful kind of busy, full of laughter and creativity, of visioning and activity. Kind of like my past week at CC. Writing a poem a day is a particular kind of focus. By Friday, I was drained. Didn't know if how when what I would do to string words into a coherent image/concept/poem. Poem? Poem...between pushing my own understanding of what constitutes a poem, to actually crafting something that reflects my voice within that entire conversation, adding content and form, I decided to rely on the subliminal state that arrives somewhere between 1 glass of wine and 5 a.m. in the morning: a state which creates a wonderfully high sensitivity to fears, which in turn, serves poetry.
I had fun. Read Tarot. Walked down creek before sunrise. Danced. Laughed. Had intense discussions about walls and starlight. Felt heart beats next to mine. Opened my eyes to Rachel Eliza Griffith's eyes. Breathed. Remembered. Played basketball...like a girl.
And now, I get to continue dipping into this crescendo. This year has just been like that, and I don't see why it should continue to be this way. It's wonderful. It's what I asked for. It's what's mine to do with as I wish. To command into my future. And the ever present present.