Again.

Want to make change?
First you’ve got to make history
Out of the fantasies in your mind
Out of the thick air where you draw
Ghosts of some past to inhabit you
Who see ruins of pillars in the cobblestone
and say to rebuild
what always wasn’t
Again.

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Rules Of Conditional Acceptance:

They’re so glad to have you here
So long as you’re not too much of what you are,
And can fit yourself inside their narrow outline for one of the good ones
(Exactly one of the good ones).

But now you notice it’s feeling tight
And you’ve spent your life climbing up their pedestal
So you can be a prop:
One season change away from going out of style,
One slip away from getting knocked off.

I don’t want to be one of your good ones anymore.

The Fantasy Pedestrian

I find it a little bit funny when dance people, usually of the postmodern sort, use the word “pedestrian” to refer to their cleanly-crafted arrangements of steps, lines, and gestures. As if that could be placed in the the same category as the confused and unruly gaggle of walkers who complicate the walking path from the train to the studio.

Inside that pristine world, pedestrians move with intention and a clear, deliberate focus.

Out here, only half the pedestrians seem to really know where they’re going. Most of the rest bow their heads down their Google Maps for guidance, making the occasional 180 when they realize that the pointer on their screen isn’t quite oriented to this earth.

In there, pedestrians use simple movement to demonstrate an awareness and skillful use of time and space.

Out here, pedestrians walk way too slow until they realize that they need to pummel through the crowd in a fit of lateness. They walk on the wrong side of the sidewalk. They stop to think about how they’re on the wrong side of the sidewalk. They spend seven seconds deliberating over whether they can cross that crosswalk in time, and five seconds actually crossing it (the last three to a chorus of impatient car honks).

newyork_dontwalk_manhattan_1073023_o

In there, pedestrians cross each others paths calm with acknowledgement, drawing intricate floor patterns which just so happen to fall into the open spaces between their peers.

Out here, pedestrians manage to bump into each other even when they’re going the same direction, setting off a sprinkle of curses and dirty looks.

In there, all pelvises hang in a delicate “neutrality,” the kind you engineer through years of careful micro-engagements and releases.

Out here, pelvises sway and slouch and jut and twist and teeter and bounce and jitter. They’re pelvises that hold histories and pains and desires and fears that might tip them on way or another–and who’s to say if they ever knew a default state before all that weight?

In there, we imagine that pedestrians walk with no affectations down a street with no name and no homes and no real estate. There’s no fairies or princesses, but don’t be mistaken: we’re looking at a distant fantasy land.

The Awkward Moment When (Month 4)

You’re homesick
but you’re not sure where for

And you decide you want to be a normal person
almost as much as you really don’t

When you’ve forgot what you’re running to
and start wondering what you’re running away from

and what if you sat back and let it catch you this time?

Keep the Change

I want to change the world one day!

That’s it? You can do that in the next 10 seconds.

How?

Scootch your chair in a bit.

*Scootch*

And thus, the chair distribution of the world was altered.

That wasn’t much of a change.

You’re right. That was a small change. You’ll make more of those than any other kind.

As long as you keep scootching and talking and touching and buying and using and exhaling and appearing–or not–I guarantee it. Some for the better and some for the worse and some for neither.

Sometimes you won’t be able to tell which is which, and I’m not sure there’s always an answer, but I hope you keep remembering to ask. Even if you go looking for bigger changes to make: don’t stop seeing how you are always changing the world, and always have been, and sometimes get to choose how.