Now these aren't daffodils, but these flowers make my day every time I see them. Some of you know why. People who have left us really do come calling, really do watch us. That little kernel of knowledge is one of the best things in life.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Best things
Just finished reading Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones - highly recommend it. I won't ruin it for anyone who hasn't read it, but I will say that it prompted me to ask what kinds of things I love and might have forgotten about or be taking for granted. I'm talking about little things like the feel of the pages of a book and the joy of discovering new worlds in those pages. And of course, people who share great books (Thanks, Mom! I needed to be reminded of the joy of reading something other than the news and the reports and memos I read at work!).
Now these aren't daffodils, but these flowers make my day every time I see them. Some of you know why. People who have left us really do come calling, really do watch us. That little kernel of knowledge is one of the best things in life.
Now these aren't daffodils, but these flowers make my day every time I see them. Some of you know why. People who have left us really do come calling, really do watch us. That little kernel of knowledge is one of the best things in life.
Monday, August 13, 2007
what do you carry with you?
What a transformative experience on Saturday night! Through the magic of costume, makeup and dance, I was one of the Fairy-Light Circle Dance fairies who flitted and danced our way through Stanley Park in Vanier during Lumière Festival 2007. What a thrill to see thousands of lanterns and thousands of people all lit up and glowing!
It was beautiful - a balmy, starry night with the sounds of jazz drifting by. We "flitted" down the paths in the park, and met fairy after fairy, sporting both lanterns and grins from ear to ear. In the darkened grove of trees at one end of the park, lanterns hung from branches, and strains of French melodies played on an accordion graced the breeze. The tennis courts were transformed into an outdoor movie palace, and a labyrinth of lanterns set the baseball diamond aglow. Stilt-walkers strode by, storytellers told tall tales, and fire-weavers whirled and dazzled with their flaming batons. The wild drumming circle could be heard ever-so-faintly throughout the park, electrifying the atmosphere, along with the Perseid meteor showers overhead.
The transformation wasn't just about the costume. We fairies were not to talk for the entire performance, which ran from about 7:30 pm to just before midnight. The only thing we could do was gesture or use the bells attached to our costumes. I wondered how on earth I could go for so long without saying a word, but despite my trepidation, dance and bells worked beautifully. I was pleasantly surprised to find the musician in me appreciating more of the surrounding sights and sounds. The things we never knew could delight us!
On the fringes and sometimes within the crowd, the occasional doubters or deriders tried to get performers to come out of character, to slip up. The very air around them was full of mischief (and in some cases malice or the kind of false bravado brought on by too much wine, or by staying up past bedtime, in the case of some of the children who stayed late). They seemed to have abandoned faith in things unseen, the belief in the power of magic, and seemed dulled by this doubt and disbelief. I wondered why they burdened themselves thusly, but remained my fairy self, sure of the magic I and my fellow performers were weaving. As the doubters melted away, confused by their inability to break the spell, I felt a little sorry for them.
We danced until nearly midnight, and I delighted in hearing our audience's constant exclamations of "Look - fairies!" and "Oh look - angels!" People vyed for our attention, to snap a photo, or as one tiny girl ladybug managed to do, get a prized hug from a fairy (our choreographer/leading fairy dancer, Natasha aka, Moon Fairy). But as I already mentioned, the real magic came not just from looking like fairies, but from connecting with breath and body, the places, the sounds, and most of all, the people around us (even the doubters!). We drew in fairies, wizards and magical people of all ages, and the magic came from offering our energy to all of them. The energy that they offered in return confirms my belief that the energy we give out is the energy we get back. That kind of magic is something I will carry with me for the rest of my days.
It was beautiful - a balmy, starry night with the sounds of jazz drifting by. We "flitted" down the paths in the park, and met fairy after fairy, sporting both lanterns and grins from ear to ear. In the darkened grove of trees at one end of the park, lanterns hung from branches, and strains of French melodies played on an accordion graced the breeze. The tennis courts were transformed into an outdoor movie palace, and a labyrinth of lanterns set the baseball diamond aglow. Stilt-walkers strode by, storytellers told tall tales, and fire-weavers whirled and dazzled with their flaming batons. The wild drumming circle could be heard ever-so-faintly throughout the park, electrifying the atmosphere, along with the Perseid meteor showers overhead.
The transformation wasn't just about the costume. We fairies were not to talk for the entire performance, which ran from about 7:30 pm to just before midnight. The only thing we could do was gesture or use the bells attached to our costumes. I wondered how on earth I could go for so long without saying a word, but despite my trepidation, dance and bells worked beautifully. I was pleasantly surprised to find the musician in me appreciating more of the surrounding sights and sounds. The things we never knew could delight us!
On the fringes and sometimes within the crowd, the occasional doubters or deriders tried to get performers to come out of character, to slip up. The very air around them was full of mischief (and in some cases malice or the kind of false bravado brought on by too much wine, or by staying up past bedtime, in the case of some of the children who stayed late). They seemed to have abandoned faith in things unseen, the belief in the power of magic, and seemed dulled by this doubt and disbelief. I wondered why they burdened themselves thusly, but remained my fairy self, sure of the magic I and my fellow performers were weaving. As the doubters melted away, confused by their inability to break the spell, I felt a little sorry for them.
We danced until nearly midnight, and I delighted in hearing our audience's constant exclamations of "Look - fairies!" and "Oh look - angels!" People vyed for our attention, to snap a photo, or as one tiny girl ladybug managed to do, get a prized hug from a fairy (our choreographer/leading fairy dancer, Natasha aka, Moon Fairy). But as I already mentioned, the real magic came not just from looking like fairies, but from connecting with breath and body, the places, the sounds, and most of all, the people around us (even the doubters!). We drew in fairies, wizards and magical people of all ages, and the magic came from offering our energy to all of them. The energy that they offered in return confirms my belief that the energy we give out is the energy we get back. That kind of magic is something I will carry with me for the rest of my days.
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