Creative Movement as Therapy.

I don’t know about you but change feels much too intense. At a daily level, change is fast but still tolerable. At a macro level, when you read about how the big tech companies are trying to make us all into cyborgs and how quickly they are getting there, and how governments are starting to play with the idea of manipulating sunlight to counter climate change…it’s a little less so.

So my problems seem so tiny. However…

Yesterday was a difficult day. Again. It was one of those days in which I battle myself: who I am, how I am. The endless battle of “Why am I not like everyone else?” “Why don’t I fit in?”. It’s the same old tune that has been playing in my head since I could speak.

This time it was the simulation of a sales interview where I’m supposed to meet with a client and sell them my wares by going down a 7 bullet point list (or the ten commandments of sales).

The simulation derailed because I tried to play out a scenario that is so far fetched that it open the floods to what I despise the most: faking. I’m not good at role playing. I can’t pretend. I can’t lie and pretending is lying which is why when I’m bored I fall silent because I can’t pretend to be interested when I’m not. I respectfully listen but I can’t participate.

So in this case, I was playing a role and it went downhill. Which in this case it just woke up all my monsters that love to sing in a high-pitch note: you are not made for business! you should get a job! what you’re doing is a hobby!

I left the class with a hole in my heart. I wanted to abandon everything. Truly. To sit there and “pretend to be interested in a person that doesn’t exist” was grueling. I want to believe that if I was sitting across a person in a real situation, I would be interested. Because I usually am, I am curious about the other, I want to know. I’m open to listening and probably I will not take many notes because I rather look at the person than thinking how to use what they just told me to make them trip up.

This simulation was a practice, the real one is next month. I will be sort of “graded” on it. Nevermind that it’s in French and feeling wobbly in French is not cool, let alone pretending in French. So I was demoralized and profoundly sad and as the day went by things got worse. I felt like I wouldn’t get out of bed the next day.

But I did. Despite reading a bit of Pessoa and perusing all my favorite existential Twitter accounts.

My day started again with a gigantic SHOULD. I should work out… maybe I should take a bike ride…no, you need serious sweat, you had a donut yesterday… do Tonique.. Tonique kills me… I suddenly remembered an old DVD I bought a while ago.  Shiva Rea’s Yoga Dance. I put on a pair of my leggings and chose the Dance Flow routine where you just dance with your eyes closed while you beat on imaginary drums. I danced like a lunatic for 31 minutes and ended with a brief meditation.

I loved how she says: Dance for nothing at all…

Shiva Rea Yoga Trance Dance

I’m not a Yoga fan, my wrists are too weak and my shoulders complain every time I do a cobra but this DVD is the antidote to my sadness. I don’t do it often because I don’t want to get sick of it. Only when I feel very sad, unsure and ready to give up.

I don’t know anything about Shiva Rea, never googled her, I don’t want to know or go down any rabbit hole. I don’t know if she’s a good instructor or not, the only thing I care about is that the music is good and her voice-over is so soothing and comforting and subtly motivating.

Promotion is difficult and slow in my world. Today I believe again that what I do is good, that my watercolor work has come a long way, that women with a curious soul recognize the fluidity, the poetry and will want to wear it.

And that everything comes in good time.

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