NEW YORK SNIP539 – Dance Architecture & Fashion – FESCH.TV

NEW YORK SNIP539 – Dance Architecture & Fashion & FESCH.TV:

What did momentarily wake me out of my torpor which I’ve been enduring all week but especially this morning as I was determined to win one solitaire game on my small iPod, as if my very right to exist depended on it?
Such reflections, memories, from the mid 1990s, when in a hostel in Belgium, as part of an American Senior Sports team competing in Europe, I was also battling with solitaire on my MacBook laptop, as if my own personal aspirations were a parallel or predictor of my courage, determination, wisdom. Really? Have I kept statistics for 30 years? I remember them to be at average 10%, meaning that one out of ten I would be a conqueror of the universe, in control of my own …Oh, God, consciousness is such a curse.
What would it be like to be an animal with very clear needs and clear answers! Hungry? Hunt for food! In danger? Seek protection! Determine the enemy’s capabilities and measure them against mine own, their speed, their cunning and their stamina.
I must have been battling the digital cards for more than an hour before being awarded a congratulatory slap on my back, a sign that I’m still a capable human being able to determine my goals, in the immediate and in the near future, and going about methodically engaging and wrestling them to submission.
I was in that conundrum, when I managed to do my in-bed spine stretches, and torso-hip twists, etc …finally on my feet, my body unsteady, my eyes searching the ways in which I must face the challenges of today’s life. That is when I switched on the radio, the through the air waves transmission from WKCR and heard the voice – the defiant sound of Eunice Kathleen Waymon, aka NINA S., determined to make a place for herself in her marginalized Black universe.. I was suffused, absorbing those self-actualizing sounds emanating from her body and…
Today I had a tumultuous morning in bed (alone!). I was the second person in this dream who performed a dance of a hybrid type (mixing movement with speech) which turned out that way, parallel in the context of my current life dilemma as represented in this dream.
I did have a tumultuous dream this morning, and that was trying to explain in movement and voice the unfathomable issues inherent in the cessation of life, the involuntary disappearance of Jan. The search for a way of accepting that reality. The best so far I can muster is the following – make room for that newer brighter smarter more alive generation that generationally follows me. It will energize the unconscious collective homo sapien specie to survive more perfectly, evolve beyond my own evolutionary efforts, marching …rather dancing onward singing the blessings of the electro-chemical gifts of consciousness! The finest evolutionary mutation developed over millenniums and continuing to develop until we are one family, brothers and sisters, living in peace on Planet Earth.
So the dance I was doing during the morning hours for some undetermined time, perhaps 10 minutes, perhaps just 10 seconds, since dream time is strangely different from conscious cognitive time, just as thinking time is strangely different from speaking or writing time. It seems and is from another level of consciousness which is not measured, and if measured, then not with the same parameters, or whatever the word is that describes a way a dream is experienced, a thought transpired.
(Google: A parameter, generally, is any characteristic that can help in defining or classifying a particular system used in evaluating its performance, status, condition, time, duration etc.)
I don’t know whether the dance was exclusively in my mind, the movements imagined rather than physically executed, but I was going through a great deal of motion and emotion and I was naked. I was standing, breathing, lifting my chest activating my shoulders energizing my arms expressing my longing to understand how I could possibly accept the termination of my cognitive existence. I was speaking: “Where did I get the notion that this life was forever when I see or hear daily about the passing out of this life notable people in the news-worthy world…
I sank down to the floor in disappointment with my incomprehensible cloudy and vague notions of how my cognitive functions will shut down …then rising tentatively, consoled, at my experienced brightness of young children, to my replacements. Then in anger at the frustration of understanding so little about the machinations of my life, this life, blinded by need for recognition …driving myself to hide in a crouched fetal position on the floor. I thought I was doing all this physically. I doubt it. I think I was immobile under the covers.
I do know now this was all an expressive manifestation of the life of …this old man as a dog. The portrait of an artist as a disappearing man, with little time to find his way in this world.