tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8494024784324680939.post8489097793719961046..comments2024-02-25T02:53:17.882-08:00Comments on The Goalie's Anxiety: When things don't go as planned: *&^%$#@!Scott Abbotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01782322856303315648noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8494024784324680939.post-29236284257658135462007-02-05T16:59:00.000-08:002007-02-05T16:59:00.000-08:00Scott,
I'm not too sure I can navigate the warbli...Scott,<br /><br />I'm not too sure I can navigate the warbling feelings I am having in this moment. I dont much like communicating like this, I am doing my best getting used to this sort of faceless expression of my guts. As a 59 year old Integrated Studies student I have a knack for wearing both eyes on which ever side of my head is creative the moment I have a meaningful thought. Yes, I been known to do my best and most meaningul work as a flounder. Maybe I do appreciate this forum, maybe I'm better off, no one can see tears as I feel things in the writing of others. I feel like I have a fur-ball goiter in my brain, so much to feel and say; raspy, flem muffeled ideas seem to be the most meaningful. sometimes. <br /><br />I had an experience last week in my modern dance class. I love creative movement and I love to dance life's edge. I have chosen Modern Dance as a medium for exploring deep inside myself. I have worked on sorting through traditions inherited from ancesters for many years. I'd like to get better aquainted with myself, my foibles, wants, desires and core intentions. During dance class last week I had a vision of my DNA strand interwined with a thick gooey strand made up soley of tradions. You know, traditions that dictate things more pertinent than hair color, body size and shape. The discussion we have been having about Martin Luther King and his letter from Birminghan Jail has really stuck in my craw. I'm interested in getting through to the core of my identity. The place where inherited tradions such as prejudice, fear, and anger have a foothold. So here's a poem I wrote expressing what I felt as I experienced my DNA strand all tangled up with tradition such as prejudice and fear.<br /><br />GIVE ME LIFE OR DEATH BY TRADITION<br /> <br />No craggy mountain peak--<br /> <br />Mean<br />As tradition<br />Laced<br />DNA<br />Chain--<br /> <br />Snaking<br />With<br />Attitude<br />Hair texture<br />Lip Size<br />Sexual preference<br />Religious prejudice--<br /> <br />All pass--<br /> <br />Generation-to-Generation--<br /> <br />Through lofty <br />Delusions of grandeur--<br /> <br />Financially stubsidized<br />stableized--<br /> <br />Wind swept--<br /> <br />Water chiseled--<br /> <br />Face Lifting<br />unconscious<br />Tummy Tuck--<br /> <br />Of yesteryear--<br /> <br />Tattooing<br />Hearts <br />With<br />Indelible<br />Mark<br />As if<br />Beastly<br /><br />Thanks for listening,<br /><br />Michael Morrowmichael morrowhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18410891595453473987noreply@blogger.com