I Saw Mars Last Night

At the time, I didn't know it was Mars, it was just something near the Moon, shining brighter than everything else. It caught my eye and I couldn't look away. 

I wondered if it was a star, a satellite. Kris suggested it might be a planet, a theory I didn't prescribe to until he sent me an article about it late last night that I woke up to see in my texts.

What a magical thing! Had we not been sitting outside in our chairs in the yard after our walk, waiting for Heather and Palmer to drive by after she picked him up from daycare, I doubt I would have noticed it. There we were, sitting around and agreeing how good it felt to sit around in our yard, staring up at the sky with little else to do for a couple minutes. We agreed that we should really do more of that. Easy to think, harder to do.

I'm taken by how magical it was to really not have known until this morning what it was that drew my attention last night. I just did. It was just WORTH it to sit there and stare up at it and WONDER.

Gratitude Overwhelm

This morning, I started drifting awake thinking about all the shots we maybe 'should have taken' and didn't yesterday during my dance company Rhythmically Speaking's first-ever (and outside in MN January, mid-pandemic, 11 hour) screendance shoot. It shook me awake, starting to dream up shots I probably wouldn't have before being there, in the moment, with all the dancers and the videography team. I can't help but start post-morteming before a project is over: I just don't want to miss any chance to learn something and take note of it for an even better next time.

While I haven't seen the footage yet, I am CERTAIN it will be beautiful and more than enough to make a beautiful screendance. Knowing this does not stop me from thinking through 'woulda-shoulda-coulda's, but as long as I can keep these thought processes in the territory of 'learn from' rather than 'torture thyself,' I think they can be productive!

So how does this connect to gratitude? Pretty easily, actually. Worries about missed shots shook me awake, but very shortly after getting myself out on my morning walk - back into nature without an agenda - I started to feel the gratitude collecting within me. Looking at the trees in my neighborhood, I was shook by how incredibly fortunate we were to have such a beautiful and rare natural event - rime ice - happening on the very shoot date we'd set months head. Earlier this week, I was lamenting the forecast, thinking about how we wouldn't be able to capture a beautiful sunrise or a beautiful sunset - many of which we've seen happen while rehearsing out at the beautiful land at which we were so fortunate (there's that word again) to practice and shoot.

I got over that lament pretty quick when realizing the trees were going to be just coated in soft yet prickly snow-ice that . . . I just can't describe the beauty of this. Wow. The best I can do for a visual right now is a screen-shot of a video I grabbed at rehearsal on Friday:

Beautiful in it's own right, but unable to capture the magic of yesterday. 

I was so absorbed in simultaneously managing my producer, director, choreographer and dancer roles that I didn't capture anything! I know Kris got some shots, but he too was balancing too many jobs - the slate, the music, keeping us on time, carrying equipment - to really get much of anything to document the ABSOLUTE SPLENDOR of nature that we were so fortunate to get to make art amidst yesterday. I really don't think anything could have. The footage we captured for the screendance will have it's own magic, just like the experience as a whole, itself, has it's own. 

So, WOW. GRATITUDE. After my heart and head could process the gratitude surrounding the nature of yesterday's art-making experience, it drifted to the people. WOW, the people. I told Kris yesterday that I'm not sure how I got lucky enough to work with such talented, kind-spirited, funny, focused, TOTALLY BRILLIANT humans. From the dancers to the film folks to my ever-adaptable, willing, supportive and capable dude Kris, trying to write this sentence of gratitude has me sitting here, alone on my couch at 9:30am on the Sunday following such a crucial, long yet quick and thick day, sobbing. Just sobbing. Soundtrack of John Prine's last release "I Remember Everything." Just sobbing. I'll remember everything. At least I'll really try to.

I'd like to think that 'how I got so lucky' - really, fortunate - to get to work with such incredible folks on the regular has something to do with the work I put into being a kind, joyful and supportive person willing to dream kinda neat art dreams :)  Whatever unique circumstances and chemistry (and ok, HARD WORK) brought yesterday together, it was quite the recipe.

My heart-swell really cannot be captured in words (or visuals!) here, but I tried, and it's helping me process it all to be able to move on to other items that are calling my name. WOW. I feel how I feel after closing a show: an overwhelming sense of gratitude, a particular and familiar feeling both striking and comforting. It's weird to experience this feeling knowing there is still so much work to do (i.e. editing, color correcting, release), but I suppose the day after show-close, there is always still quite a bit of work to do (wrapping up the budget, post-mortem meetings, etc.). All the same . . . these feelings are sure to buoy me for a while, and I'll be sure to hold them dear, preserve them and check in on them when I need them.

WOW.

Gratitude overwhelm.

You'll Just Have to Believe Me

This morning, the lights from the lamp posts around my house shone columns of brassy orange: they looked like citrus-tinged space ships tipped lengthwise. I'd never seen anything like it before!

At first, I was convinced the apartment complex near us must have gotten new lamp posts, as they are different from the St. Paul city fixtures throughout the neighborhood. Then, I turned around and saw that the city fixtures looked like citrus-tinged space ships tipped lengthwise too! It was then that I noticed the dense, tiny glitter hanging in the air, swishing at the slowest pace I think I have ever witnessed. I've seen snow-glittery air before, but not like this. Without better equipment and training, I knew I couldn't catch a photo that would do it justice.

Crude attempt to capture the magic . . .

You'll just have to believe me.

It must have been thanks to the fog advisories we've had as of late. I'm surprised it took me until recently, given my obsession with them, to learn that fog is just patches of really thin and wide-spread clouds! I suppose I shouldn't be TOO shocked: clouds have always been a thing of aesthetics for me. I appreciate the science of them, it's just not the source of my curiosity.

The combo of the fog-mist-slow-glitter-clouds and the way they affected the light from the neighborhood lamp posts this morning was a bit too much for me to hold in: my body had to release some water from my eyes in order for me to process everything. Wonder in real-time.

I told Kris the other day that I couldn't imagine what it would be like to grow up in a place with no snow. Shortly after, I followed that up with the guess that there are plenty of folks that couldn't imagine what it would be like to grow up without being able to see the ocean each day. All I can say is that this fog-mist-slow-glitter-clouds got my day off to the right start.

You'll just have to believe me :)