Day 666: The Devil's Dance?

Oooh, it's Devil Day today. In Tarot, the devil has all kinds of meanings, from sloth and hedonism to the full enjoyment of the power of sexuality and the force of nature (that's from the druid tarot, that is), as well as tinges of procrastination and the potential for freedom from chains that is not yet taken... So good morning, then. Enjoy!

The Devil too is love

I am all high on Butoh. Thanks to lovely Susana, my Swiss-Peruvian artistic saviour, I got to go along to a performance/demonstration of Butoh dance in a quite magical house in the bowels of Lima (San Miguel), somewhere I'd never have made it to alone through sheer not knowing - not only would I not have heard of it, but I'd have had no idea how to get there and little confidence. 

I'd had the warmth and hospitality of lovely Susana the evening before, when she invited me to join her at a celebration for a friend's birthday. That was lovely, and she was fascinating and funny. And once again, her generosity and openness had her invite me along again. I commit right now to being more like that in the future. When people I know have friends visiting wherever I am and I can be of any help or welcome, I shall. Thank you for the lesson, Susana. It is gratefully absorbed. 

So off we went. We arrived at a residential door marked with a number and followed someone in. There was a big open space and paintings on the wide, white walls. They asked just 5 Soles (about a pound) for entry and in we went. There were people in comfortable clothes lounging and stretching on the floor. Not quite the formal theatre performance I'd been expecting. Finally, the projection started (not metaphorically, for a change - I mean the film). There was a Japanese guy who'd been doing the practice in Brazil. Can't remember his name... and then these incredible, playful, brilliant women: Doro Doro Quarks... Honestly, take ten minutes with them. They rock.

Metaphor

Four films in all, and then it seemed to be over. There was a man who didn't seem to like eye contact fiddling with his water bottle throughout, making noises with the bottle and the plastic label that he'd rustled off during the videos. Annoying. Then it was all over and the thing I'd picked up an inkling off as we arrived - that there'd be an element of participation later - started to happen. A swathe of people from the floor flocked to the back where there were mics and objects and started making amplified noise. It was very avant garde and quite wonderful. A woman started speaking and instructing us over that. A combination of the noise and the language meant that I had little idea what she was saying, but I was almost last in the circle, so by the time it got to me, the explanation had been danced by others.

Loving this incongruous image game

Still I thought there'd be a few circle exercises and a thank you and then we'd all trot home having intellectual chats about Butoh and presence, but no... from the warm-ups, we were all in. Somewhere between two and three hours later, covered in sweat, happily exhausted and glowing in the face, we ended up all lying on the floor. Hats off to the waterbottle guy. He made some amazing sounds with that thing, complementing the didgeridoo, the weirdy thundertunnel thing and someone making voice noises I didn't know were possible.

I'm not sure how Butoh my Butoh was - I think it was more ActionTheater/5Rhythms inspired stuffage - but it was just what I needed. Physical movement, spontateity, shared creation, physical contact and connection with lovely people, dance, music, flow and belonging. Just for that moment. Being part of something. No concern whether it's 'good' or not. Just flowing. God, I'm grateful for this, and for the last few years of play that allow me to show up at a situation like this and enjoy it fully. 

So thank you, thank you, thank you. You have outdone all the touristness of Lima tenfold. Thank you for letting me be part of this. And remember to check out those Quarks.

PS - two dog fixes today: a one-eyed mongrel and a sweet collie cross who did a bit of doggie dancing with her owner and was on her back, belly out, within seconds of our meeting.

Day 665: PeruCat

This is not a park cat. Or real.

So far, where Guatemala was the land of dogs, Peru (or Lima, at least) is the land of cats. In Kennedy Park, just a few blocks from where I'm staying, there's a veritable (lovely) plague of them. Skinny and confident, most of them. They lounge on the grass as if on a lap or a sofa. They allow people to stroke them, but they don't seem to care whether they do or not, really. They occupy the park as their home and they give the place taste. I like them.

Peru is the country of horn too. Not like that (not in my experience, anyway). There's a huge amount of bipping and swerving on the roads, and yet a polite sweetness about it nevertheless. Drivers make noise, but they don't mow each other down and when you look at the people who've just made the noise, you don't see waving fists or furrowed foreheads, just people in their cars, smiling or not, getting on with their day. The beeping is just part of it, that's all. 

Also not a park cat

It's not just drivers who make noise. Where I am in Lima, there's noise everywhere. The tv is always, always on, in every establishment. It's totally acceptable to watch TV on your tablet wherever you are without headphones and with the volume up high. And the drilling (not like that). There's drilling and boring and crashing and banging everywhere. The hostel i'm in isnt' really closed in - it has roofish parts, and the rooms themselves are actual rooms, but I can hang out on top of the building and not be encumbered by having to open doors. That makes the noise more ... noisy. 

I came to Peru partly to get out of London and so far, I've made the choice to spend a week in Lima kind of just being here like I do in London, only without the friends, the pond, the greenness of the city and right now, the sun. I'm interested in why I've chosen this, and i have, and it's fine. All will reveal itself. And it's becoming clearer and clearer that while I can exist in a city, I want to live in the country (probably in the mountains), where the light is clear and the air is too.

I spent a very entertaining evening with a new friend last night, lovely Susana, artist, performer, committed creative. We were in a bar for a friend of hers' birthday. There was a lot of laughing and shouting and some lovely people. I spoke to Cuban Liz - stunningly beautiful, warm, confident, friendly. She told me about her love of cats and how many she has already adopted from the Kennedy cat-run park. Maybe this evening, I'll go and see a Japanese Butoh show. In Lima. Cool.

* Cat Explanation *
I have discovered that I can reuse pictures from previous blogs. I found some cats. One is bigger than a startrooper and the other is dressed as a princess. 
Bonus.

 

Day 664: Light

In general, I am brought to my knees by the gratitude I feel. Over the last few weeks, it's been almost more than I can handle. I've had SUCH a nice time. It's contrary to the nature of this page to summarise - specificity is part of the heart of gratitude, for me - but fuck it, I shall. 

Over the last few weeks, I have felt more loved and appreciated than I can remember in the whole of my life. Perhaps nothing has changed - perhaps the appreciation has been there all along and I just wasn't quite the right way out to take it in. Or perhaps I am constantly surrounded by truly lovely, loving people who express themselves freely and make it impossible for me to keep stopping the love coming in (nod to KT Tunstall there for her juicy song). Either way, I'm grateful and glad and determined to go on this way.


I can't tell you how much better it's made my life to be able to trust the people who say they love me. For years, my first thought would always be 'what do they want from me?' or 'why are they trying to trick me?'... or in even more negative moments 'what are they, idiots?'. And now, I see that they're not after anything or trying to make a dick out of me and nor are they in any way stupid. They're just seeing what I couldn't see before, just as I see things in others that it seems they can't always see. That feels beautiful, and I am, unsurprisingly, deeply grateful.