is that a mini-snake?

asked the same friend who asked me for my “animal” instead of my email a few weeks ago. Technically, it was not a mini snake, it was a millipede.

But hey, we all see the world differently so if she saw a mini snake, she saw a mini snake.

It is sort of the same with post-modern/experimental/post-post-modern//next wave/call it what you will/ DANCE.

Some people see a mini snake. Some people see a millipede.

One is not better than the other.

For example: You go to see a post post post post modern dance performance with a friend.

You see a story about women hitting the glass ceiling over and over again. She sees a portrait of her grandmother.

You see the wild of the world strutting toward midnight. She sees a war that will never end.

You are bored out of your mind. She is riveted and spellbound.

You see a mini-snake. She sees a millipede. And the guy sitting next to you sees a squiggly line on the ground.

That’s just sort of how it goes.

The people in the front row might be laughing their asses off, while you are sitting very still, holding your chin in your hand, contemplating the images swirling in front of you.

Trust it.

There is nothing to get or understand or figure out. Just feel what you feel, let it take you where it will, and trust your own experience of this world that is being created just a few feet away.

Then go out to dinner and talk about what you just saw with your friend. You don’t need to figure it out. Talk, listen, and stay curious.

Seeing live performance is a bit risky. You can’t switch channels or scroll down to the cute cat video. You can’t skip ahead, or go back and read it over. You most likely won’t walk out,

(Full Disclosure: I did walk out when the performer was taking huge bites out of a struggling to stay alive very large silver fish. I would suggest walking out when you are witnessing something of this nature)

and you most likely won’t be eating a snack,

(Full Disclosure: I did eat bacon one time that I had hidden in my pocket. I would suggest bringing bacon if the performance is over 3 hours long).

So this basically means that you will just be sitting there, watching what is unfolding. You might not like it. You might be bored. You might be angry or sad or uncomfortable or confused.

You might be elated. You might be surprised. You might be delighted, enchanted, and captivated.

The performer or performers might be having an off night, or they might be so on that the room is sizzling.

That’s the risk you take. You just don’t know.

I believe this is a risk worth taking because the pay off is enormous.

Something profound and far reaching happens when we see live performance.

Cells reorganize in our bodies, bodies reorganize in space, and then the space we inhabit becomes more vivid, arresting, and remarkable.

What has been borrowing underneath the surface of everyday activity emerges into the light.

Like a millipede. Or a mini snake.

Napping in sun. . You have two dance missions this week:

The first dance mission is to dance for one minute before you go to sleep tonight.

The second is to see a live dance performance with a friend. Go out to dinner afterward and talk about the show you just saw.

Write about your experience or post a video on the blog:

or on Facebook:

Either way, I would love to hear from you. On another note: Thank you to everyone who came out to see dirtland these past two weekends. We had great audiences and it was a pleasure to share this work with you. With Warmth, Joanna of Joanna and The Agitators sweetly agitating/persistently upending