Pay total atttention to every movement

This morning I woke up to a 2 Aleve, 2 Aciteminiphen, ice pack kind of day. My back was screaming from overworking from last night's performance.
Pay attention to me.

Even a long hot shower didn't help enough, so I scheduled an appointment with the acupuncturist where I stayed for over an hour.

By the time that Amy arrived  for the warm up I could move well enough to dance with modifications based on the pain calibration scale (1-10  1-3 okay 4-6 be careful, 7-10 not a chance).
Too much sitting and standing 6
Bending over to pick up the piano bench   8
going down to the floor  8
Getting back up   10

So, we decided that I wouldn't sit back down except to play the piano and wouldn't go to the floor. It even was going to be hard to walk fast enough to get the Snapple in time from the refrigerator, so we put it on the counter.

And so it went during the warm up. Adjusting, revising, noticing the muscular boundaries. I found  a playful yet subdued, fulfilled yet cautious side. In some sense I had always been marking the dancing, moving from the outside in. Tonight was from the inside out

The question tonight: What did it mean to pay total attention to every movement, and fullfill that movement instant by instant?

Remarkably, I had more fun tonight not pushing outward, but being contained and true to what was possible.
Playing and storytelling came easily. The doorway dance more subtle and carefully crafted.

The food tonight was a bountiful feast, each dish carefully prepared and chosen to honor the evening.

A woman told a story about how her life was changed dramatically when  her entrance to kindergarten was delayed because of a lunch box thermos. Another found the piano storytelling reminiscent of her daughter plunking an imagined story from a picture in a music book.

Several people clapped after the very first piano piece. They all laughed at the overlap of recorded and live playing.

I was offered this poem after the performance

As swimmers dare

To lie face to sky

And water bears them

As hawks rest upon air

And air sustains them

So would I learn to attain

Free fall and float

Into creator spirits deep embrace

Knowing no effort earns

That all surrounding grace

                          -anonymous

Things unsaid to be left answered

Two dress rehearsals and two performances, 4 startlingly different experiences.
the first two: friends  Lots of laughter and recognition. In fact, at least half of the audience  had participated in at least one of the stories. Some had been primary actors in several. My friend who came with me to the hospital after my accident. My friends who came and cooked and cleaned for me. My friends who celebrate with me in my home and at the ball park.

young dancers just arrived for the Headlong Institute.
"I moved here a week ago".
"I moved here yesterday."

I am touched by what touches people.

Coffee drinking, doorframes, summer camp, joy from tragedy, cats, piano playing. Things unsaid in the piece that leave so many questions left unanswered until the potluck.

The piece in some ways is still a mystery with very different aspects revealed to me each night.

We  may talk about the theme song from our households, and everyone chimes in to wistfully sing Joni Mitchell's song Circle Game. Or we  may talk about our summer camp experiences, our cats and what we love about our neighborhoods.

One woman who has just moved here says "I live in Spruce Hill' which in fact is not an actual neighborhood, but I am delighted. If I can make up a holiday, she can make up a name for her proximate set of streets that cozily surround her.

One man shares the pain of losing a parent.

One shares that his wife is adventurous and he timid, then she tells a wild and hilarious story about walking on glaciers.

Someone wants to know what happened to the rabbinical student. That is a story for later.

I feel that I am talking too much. unleashed, as Amy would say.