Yesterday I went to the dermatologist, where I left behind a small part of my skin, as is usually the case. Basel cell skin cancer is an acquaintance of mine. It’s not life-threatening like my old friend melanoma, but it’s an annoyance at best. When my skin is numbed (just a little pinch), I accept it as I did every needle point from my many tattoos. I have a high tolerance for pain, I remind myself.
I left the office and treated myself to an indulgent, high-calorie drink from Starbucks and told myself that I should feel better now. At least until I get a phone call that says if I should come back in 4-6 weeks, not at all, or sooner, depending on the severity of this one.
And all I can think of is that damn it, I don’t want to die from skin cancer. “F” that. Not that this one is deadly, I remind you, and myself. But I’m a fire eater. My body should know better.
Dance Makes Everything Better
Last night I spent a long overdue evening in my studio space, hoop dancing to never-ending music until I got dizzy. At that point I sat on the floor, the music ignoring my defiance. It kept playing and then I started moving again, swaying, extending legs and arms until before I knew it, I was dancing again.
I returned tonight, forcing myself to begin with the music even though I don’t feel like hooping or dancing or lifting weights or doing yoga. But damn that music. It moved me, until I found myself laying on the rug where my dog had made herself cozy, right in the middle of my space. I closed my eyes, resting next to her until she got nervous–she’s not used to seeing me lie still–and then I opened my eyes when I felt her stand and walk out. The first thing I saw was a sign I made many moons ago. It was part of an act that I wrote for clowning/fire eating. The entire bit was pretty brilliant, if I do say so myself.
The sign, as shown here, was tilted on its side against my wall. It says “Will she do it?” Little did I know when I made this that it would become like another acquaintance of mine, questioning whether I’ll actually go through with whatever it is at the moment that I’m inspired to do. Write a book, join a dance tribe, succeed, in whatever definition I have in my head at the time. The question is never “what” will I do, but if I will actually do “it.”
So I’m doing it. I’m editing my novel and sharing it with beta readers. I’m working at my professional career like a madwoman because I love it so and I have a feeling that exciting things are still yet to come. I’m joining a new dance tribe that thrills me; I’m sure that before too long I’ll be writing about how grateful I am for the friend who invited me to be a part of this collaboration of dancers with strong and unique backgrounds. I feel like we’re some kind of superhero dance group. More to come on that.
Now answer this: What are you going to do? Will you go out and do your own “it?”
Peace, love, and fire,