a sense of place/ a place of knowing

sometimes i keep myself too busy or distracted to accurately know or care how i'm feeling. in so doing, i falsely assume i am emotionally detached--robotic heart and soul (not an ironic reference to the rigid manner that song is usually played on the piano)--it's not that i'm not feeling, or that i can't know how i'm feeling. usually, it's that i haven't made the time to know. is there a greater disservice to oneself?

when i'm in this state it seems that physical acts awaken the spiritual. when i pick up my material possessions from their proper place and pack them into the back of my parents' '98 hog, that tedious physical act shifts something real and spiritual within me; when i sing, the physical force of my vocal cords coming together turns the melody and words into visceral, palpable waves, spiritual entities; the physical flurry of a previously unnoticed sculpture in the rampant wind takes on realms of spiritual symbolism; the shift of a tassel on a funny hat from right to left (never mind that the majority of us were incorrectly wearing the tassel on the left side of the cap for the first ceremony...the power of group-think, even as near college graduates...)feels physically trivial, emotionally momentous; the weight of my knees into the floor in prayer, the settling of slow breaths to the bottom of my lungs, converts physical habituation into spiritual profundity.

so i graduated, yes.



and like a funeral or a birthday party physical acknowledgement gives way to closure.



i'm not a very demonstrative person. i will probably go to great lengths to avoid touching you. but i am a physical person, in love with the laws of motion, empowered by this body i've been given and its ability to translate physical into spiritual.



on thursday, when i sang hold me holy, i explained and understood, perhaps for the first time, that this song is about losing a sense of place--whether that be a sense of place in another person, previous enlightenment, self, or a physical location. to sing these words on the deathbed of my logan existence never felt so real:

what are you gonna do when your world grows feet,
learns to run, to call someone else honey?....

you answer a question with one of your own,
buying time in her eyes, but they're a piece of map going once
yeah, they are a piece of map going once, going gone.

i did spend the last week or so buying time in the eyes of logan, UT and the eyes of the lovely people i have grown to adore who reside there. things will be different. and that's okay. i just want to feel the difference and learn my limits.



i'm learning i can't do that without writing and reading. in my black notebook i wrote this on 2/13/11:

today it occurred to me that i have rarely come to an understanding of my place in life without writing about it. the talking heads have this concert dvd called "stop making sense." i have been thinking about that title and what it really means. for me, i think it means to stop over thinking and "making sense" of every little detail immediately--essentially it may mean to sacrifice my urgent need to know. regardless, i think there must be a balance and this is my place of making sense. at the umea conference colleen asked me if this was a recipe book. at the time that was a humorous comment, but i think it really is a recipe book with just a single long-winded recipe for sense-making.

upon arriving in salt lake city last week with foreign nostalgia in my bones for the things i left behind and a healthy amount of anxious anticipation to wake me up each morning, it's the talking heads who usher in reassurance with reckless abandon in this fitting song. goodbye, logan, and all that you encompass. hello, very naive melody. yes, this must be the place.

(at least watch the incredible dance break with a floor lamp--4:25-5:00)

this must be the place (naive melody)

Home is where I want to be
Pick me up and turn me round
I feel numb - born with a weak heart
So I guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It's ok I know nothing's wrong . . nothing

I got plenty of time
You got light in your eyes
And you're standing here beside me
I love the passing of time
Never for money
Always for love
Cover up say goodnight . . . say goodnight

Home - is where I want to be
But I guess I'm already there
I come home she lifted up her wings
Guess that this must be the place
I can't tell one from the other
Did I find you, or you find me?
There was a time Before we were born
If someone asks, this where I'll be . . . where I'll be

We drift in and out
Sing into my mouth
Out of all those kinds of people
You got a face with a view
I'm just an animal looking for a home
Share the same space for a minute or two
And you love me till my heart stops
Love me till I'm dead
Eyes that light up, eyes look through you
Cover up the blank spots
Hit me on the head