While on Vacation: Reflections on New Dance for Philly

We're in the Poconos on a breezy day that has just turned hot. I meditated briefly while my daughter napped. I imagined black beetles scurrying under my skin and consuming me from the inside out. Like locusts, they left nothing but dry stalks of bone. Far from an unpleasant sensation, it felt wonderful: calming and cleansing. I have been much experiencing death imagery in the last few weeks. It comes to mind when I turn off my inner critic and just listen. Yet it is not imagery about separation (from home, family, familiar things…); rather, it is imagery about connection. I see myself connected to the Earth, my flesh being renewed and incorporated more directly into life. Renewal naturally contains an element of destruction. We are renewed when we surrender to life. We are more truly ourselves when we relinquish ourselves.

This is another insight into my beliefs about winter. Winter, by sweeping the landscape of dead things, by holding off new growth, by demanding the recuperation of the soil, paves the way for a new harvest. It is a rebirth from death. So, too, we are forced to recuperate during winter: to come home early, to stay inside more, to be less productive. I have always resisted this side of winter. I have striven to accomplish just as much as before. On vacation, too, I am pulled two ways: glad to take a break, but unhappy, wishing to be back in the studio.