Dying/broken/forgiven.... now I begin

Born: 17-06-56....gemini.... monkey
re-born: 3-09-80
born again\found: 14-04-08
other notable dates: 10-03-68; 03-09-87; 23-03-96;
1-05-98; 31-01-02; 5-04-04

Interests: movement, stressed/transgressive embodiment, lived experience (body\space\time\relation)
expression ( word, dance, text, image, story, music, poetics)
learning, yielding......

Hopes for the blog:
offer up the wild intersectedness of lived experience and engage others in creative, expressive, perhaps irreverant, hopefully playful, and respectful encounters....
enact kindness
create moments of pause for disclosure, discovery, stillness

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Do you mind if I ask you how old you are...

So this young guy looks me in the eye and asks me this....I wonder why this might be a question worth asking at all; he mutters something about being in pretty good shape for a woman my age
( which he does not know yet, by the way...). I want to inform him that I'm in pretty good shape for a woman --or a boy-- his age....but I am not going to wield body or intellect as a weapon today; today I am feeling generous.
You need to know that in one of my lives I am a competitive body-builder, so being in shape is not something I do...it is something I am. I have been knocked off my schedule with my recent bouts of traveling, but not a week goes by that I don't do something intense and exhausting in the service of being in shape. As I age, it gets harder. I wish it weren't so.
Right now, writing this, I am so sore ....I feel it everywhere....I feel its unfairness! how can someone ( this someone would be me!!) train this long and then have just a few variations in equipment during two workouts cause this much soreness...there is no justice. Body-builders: so melodramatic.
Back to the young guy. I tell him my age. At first his face registers grudging respect; he has obviously been taking note of my workout this day. Then I see a look of , well, I can only call it
horror as he blurts out that omigod that makes me older than his mom. I give him a long, hard look and then .... I ask him about his mom.
After all, I 'm feeling generous.

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