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following myself around

December 23, 2009

I’ve been a bad, bad blogger for at least a month. Maybe longer.

Part of the problem is that I haven’t been writing as much as I usually write. For some people, blogging may be a sign of procrastination. For me, being productive goes hand-in-hand with blogging. When my muse is lighting up the boards with poems, I say more here. Though I admit now, writing this, that I’m not sure which comes first: the poeming or the blogging (it’s the ol’ chicken and egg dilemma).

In addition to having an elusive (neglected?) muse of late, I have been spending too much time locked inside my head. It is the sensation of following myself around. This girl I’m trailing is busy (writing reviews, reading submissions, organizing an open mic, family stuff, household stuff, holiday stuff, teaching Zumba, running, editing poems, sending them out, fielding rejection after rejection, etc.), but me? I am doing nothing. Nothing but watching. So despite all the activity, I feel slow and lazy.

I am the queen — The Queen — of detaching; Suppression is my kingdom. I don’t always go there willingly. Sometimes, I am a prisoner. My muse is probably a prisoner, too.

As I follow myself around, I observe only the dullest, most basic facts: It is cold. My arms ache from working out. I ate too much. But today, there was this: Hey, that’s my back. I recognized it by the tattoo peeking above the shirt while the red head was combing (and I use that term loosely) her hair this morning. If that’s my back, then the red head I’m following is me. (Yes, I know. Queen of Detaching meet Captain Obvious.) I’m hoping the brief noticing is a sign I’m connecting to her again.

I have this same relationship with my body. I am one and the same with her only occasionally. Feeling united with her is one reason Zumba is so powerful for me. Typically, I am 100 percent in my body when I’m doing it. Dancing is one of the only times I am present with my body. I taught two nearly identical classes on Tuesday, and the two different sets of students enjoyed them both. However, I had a lot more fun in one of them than I did in the other. The one that made me happiest was the one in which I got lost in the dance, in my body. And the difference was obvious to me. I knew instinctively why one felt better than the other. I’m hoping this brief noticing is a sign I’m getting closer to being with her.

Movement. Tattoo. These are both physical manifestations. They are of the body, and they have prompted presence. Not uninteresting.

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5 Comments
  1. December 23, 2009 9:30 pm

    Very cool post. Maybe you can trick Queen of Detaching and Captain Obvious into going out to dinner together or something. Or at least grabbing some coffee. 😉

  2. December 26, 2009 10:23 pm

    Now that the redhead has the tattoo, she will be a lot easier to track in a crowd! I haven’t been writing as much either, Carolee, and I saw myself in your description of the the busy woman. It’s good to develop a witness mind. Being detached can be positive, too.

  3. December 27, 2009 8:25 pm

    You’ve got writing sisters with a few shared quirks if not exactly genes. And you nailed the physicality — we are bodies. Meant to motion, to move, to gesture. It was our first speech, and sometimes I think our best developed.

    Love the photo of you & your tat. You are gorgeous.

  4. December 28, 2009 11:43 am

    you ladies are so smart. yes, the queen and the captain should start dating. yes, a witness mind is good, too. and yes, body is a language. love my poet sisters!

  5. December 30, 2009 11:51 am

    Maybe this will help in the stuck writing dpeartment…Sophie could not get over the two Carolees in the photo. “Who is that? Well, then, who is that? I don’t get it. How are there two? Who is in front? Who is looking at us?” Sometimes inspiration comes from the smallest of us who really see everything…

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