I awoke this morning to a twitching lip…seriously. And rather than wonder what strange, mysterious trick my body was now playing on me, my mind went straight for the ailments of muscle abnormalities (to the extent of my very limited knowledge, that is). And of course from there, I can no longer work, am bored to distraction- voila! I’m parked in a nursing home for the rest of my hopefully limited days. And damn, I haven’t figured out yet how I’m ending it all. Unprepared again!!
Surely the fact that I make my living with my body that ages in spite of the number of headstands and grand jetes I do, I am hyper sensitive to the encroaching years. But this is beginning to get on my nerves. Forget that I dance better than any of my students, every ache and pain signals distress, causing stress, which- probably true- is the leading cause of death in this country. Second only to senior suicide understandably.
I read a poem in the Ram Daas book I’m reading, Still Here, to dance more, laugh more, go barefoot, be silly, etc. I’ve got most of those covered given that I’m still supposed to look and act like an adult the majority of the time. I’m just not sure how to make the voices in my head that fear the future stay quiet and smell the roses.