Benediction

The air is crisp and the sun is bright as it glistens on the lake. I watch ducks make crash landings, the gulls soar low over the water, scoping out their dinner, the rooster sings in the background, (in fact I saw a sign for fresh eggs across the street today), the gnats skim the water's surface, causing rings to radiate from the center, (as things have a tendency to do), where they lighted upon it, the crows caw, and I feel like I am the only one privileged to witness this moment. I breathe in the fir scented aroma of someone's fireplace and there is a palpable stillness, however the moment is cut short by the buzz saw of someone clearing the trees from their land. I put on my headphones, although I did not want to miss nature's song, but felt I had no choice, if I was to continue to enjoy the moment. The song that came on was Jami Sieber's  song, Benediction. Of the 63 possible songs in the shuffle, the perfect one came on to seize that moment in time. I thought about the meaning of Benediction...... something that promotes goodness or well-being.....the utterance or bestowing of a blessing.......an invocation of divine blessing...... the state of being blessed........indeed............

Courage

During my chiropractic appointment today, we spoke about the life long message I had always been given, that "you are too nice, you are too sensitive". Laura offered the possibility of reframing that message into it being a sign of being courageous. Being brave enough to stand up for what you believe in your core, as being the right thing. It is something that has been unsettling for me, this past week. I intuitively feel, that the work she was doing on my hip, feet and legs, which are still causing me pain, was meant to ground me in my body, in my convictions, to root me in myself and feed that courageousness. It is not easy to speak up for what you believe in, and not be rattled when others confront you with sometimes, rather harsh rebuttals. To not take it personally, and let it make you feel weak, or question what you believe deeply in your gut and heart. To accept that everyone does not have to like you, or agree with you, and that it does not make you into less of a person. On the contrary, I think these experiences are opportunities to grow out of your comfort zone, and hold onto your integrity, to make you feel stronger, more rooted and grounded in yourself, and more courageous. It is easier to stay silent, but that does not make me feel as if I am being true to myself. The CD, that softly plays in the background during the treatment, is of birds quietly chirping, reminding me that soon it will feel like spring, and that I will be ready to move through and out of my personal winter, where I have felt stuck. It makes me feel a bit more hopeful.

Long Weekend of Richness

Well, it all began with the energetic, hectic culmination of the Community Warehouse annual table & Chair Affair. The turnout was amazing and the usual rainy evening did not keep patrons and artists away. Tonight, I will get some of the numbers which I have been told exceeded our expectations, so I will be happy to report that news soon.


Friday night I saw an incredibly powerful and moving White Bird performance Kidd Pivot performing "Dark Matters". It presented me with many questions, emotions and room for possibilities, and trying to figure out some answers (a life long process I might add). It spoke to me about fate, who is the puppet and who is the puppeteer in our lives, how much can we control, how much choice do we have controlling our destiny, and how much do we just have to surrender to. To add to this emotional piece, was the realization toward the intermission, that I was in the Newmark Theatre. I wondered if the plaque I had ordered to honor my mom and her passing, and to celebrate the wonderful memories of attending the ballet and live theatre in NYC throughout my childhood with her, had been installed on it's seat: H for her last name and 5 for the day she gave birth to me. I went to the other side of the theater butterflies in my stomach, as I reached seat H-5. I was glad that the patrons in the audience, had left the row for a bit, and I gazed down and lightly touched, honored if you will, the plaque that bears her name and loving mother and grandmother on it. The poignant moment was so deep, sweet and painful yet filled me with great joy in the remembering. I was glad I had attended the performance alone, so I could just take this all in without words. I returned to my seat, and felt her presence with me as the dance reached it's crescendo, and knew that had it not been for her, I would never have developed my deep passion for the dance, as an observer and as a dancer. I felt spent by the end of the performance, and as I left the theatre, went to give the plaque a goodbye kiss with my fingertips.


Saturday held more richness, as I shared the Mark Rothko exhibit at the Portland Art Museum with my daughter Jenni. We learned a bit about his life and how it paralleled some of our immigrant relatives. My father having come to the US from Russia, as an infant, around the same time Rothko did, and then his time spent in NYC where my grandparents and parents also lived. I never knew that Rothko then lived a great deal of his life in Portland. We walked together, sharing our reactions to the paintings and our favorites. Jenni's comments left me with lots to think about, and helped me see the paintings through her eyes. It brought back memories of our frequent trips to the National Gallery of Art in DC when we lived there, and how the highlight of her day, when she was little, was the sweet little turkey on croissant lunch she savored in their cafe! It also got us very excited about our plans to see Red, at Center Stage the following day. We also were quite blown away at the unexpected amazing exhibit and films by John Frame, an artist that I had not been familiar with. In the dark rooms of the galleries, he created a world of wonder, as if stepping into one of his dreams, or possibly his nightmares. His 3-D diorama like work, spoke to me of some the same thoughts I had watching Dark Matters. The puppet and the puppeteer images, where ever present in his finely crafted other worldliness. After seeing these two exhibits, we were both on visual overload and decided that we had seen enough to satiate us for the day, (not without of course adding to my obsessive art book collection- I couldn't leave without taking a bit of John Frame home with me!)


Sunday completed the richness of the weekend with the amazingly powerful play Red. We also stayed after the play, for the discussion by a psychologist who attempted to give us a bit of insight into the man behind the paintings, Mark Rothko.


This was followed by an unbelievably wonderful dinner at June, a far cry from the lunch at the National Gallery! I truly feel like my cup runneth over with the richness of art, dance, theatre, family and memories.

Tomorrow is the BIG EVENT!!! The 2012 table & Chair Affair is Here!!!!

Well after months of working on my chairs and with the other artists on my team, the 2012 table & Chair Affair will finally come to fruition, a culmination of months and months of planning and work. The event will no doubt come off seamlessly, but the behind the scenes work of what puts this event together are huge. I am honored to be part of the Community Warehouse team. The Hot Seat cocktail hour tickets are SOLD OUT!!!!!!!! Amazing! There are still a few of the Reserved Seat dinner tickets left so this is your last chance to join in this amazing event. The over 100 artists and their phenomenal creations are even more outstanding than last years so check them out on line and be inspired. I am so proud that my three kids and their co-workers have been a part of the event this year. The Grishman's plus have created SEVEN items for the auction this year!!!!!!! Maybe you will think about joining the dinner party or think about making something next year.  


This gives you and idea where the funds have gone this past year. It also makes me truly grateful  that I have a home complete with everything I could ever need or want. Other ways to help are just by donating the used items that you might have to find a new home for at the Community Warehouse. There are lots of ways to get involved. Donate used items, volunteer in the Estate Store or the Warehouse, attend the Chair Affair or make a tax deductible donation. Either way you will feel good and sleep better knowing that others will now have a mattress to sleep on as well.

STATISTICS

Community Warehouse provided household goods to over 5,000 people in 2011. Here are some of the items we collected and redistributed to neighbors in need.

Mattresses	1,939
Pillows	2,188
Armchairs	795
Dressers	981
Sofas	798
Dish Sets	3,826
Pots & Pans	3,235
Lamps	1,773
Kitchen Tables	827
Microwaves	385
TVs	771

Dance, Dance, Otherwise We Are Lost

That is the subtitle to the film, Pina, which I just had the amazing privilege of seeing. Although difficult to sit pain free, I just had to see this film before it left the theaters, and I plan to see it again as soon as possible, in between upcoming healthcare appointments. I can't wait to return to dance, because I too have been feeling the title of the magnificent film on Pina Bausch. Without dance, I have been truly feeling lost. I was totally transported during this film, to a place that I needed to be. I only hope that I get the go ahead from my doctors, to begin to dance once again as well. This was the first time I have seen a 3-D film, so it truly made me feel as if I was on stage with the dancers, or maybe it wasn't the 3-D that did that for me but the craving to be amongst the dancers. One dancer spoke about her initial fears in the dance, and Pina's response to her was not to be afraid, but to dance what she yearned for, what she craved. Oh, how I understand that feeling. Reading up a bit on Pina, I feel compelled to share a bit of what she said about the dance, which really spoke to me. She was quoted as saying:


"When I first began choreographing, I never thought of it as choreography but as expressing feelings. Though every piece is different, they are all trying to get at certain things that are difficult to put into words. In the work, everything belongs to everything else -- the music, the set, the movement and whatever is said. I don't know where one thing stops and another begins, and I don't need to analyze it. It would limit the work if I were too analytical. I'm not interested in how people move, but what moves them."


For me, dance is my spiritual practice, it is about what moves me, rather than how I move, that is why it is so difficult to show up to dance and be limited by my body's restrictions. It puts me in my mind rather than my spirit. Not the place I want to be, yearn to be, crave to be. 


Although there where some subtitles of the dancers talking about their experiences with the dance, and especially dancing as she choreographed them. I loved that the words appeared below their faces, with their voice in the background, without their lips moving, so one could look into their eyes and read so much more than the words could ever translate. I know many of us dance the things we cannot say. The dancers did not really even seem to be choreographed because the movements seemed so spontaneous, as though they rose up from some place other than the external prompting. What also struck me was the complete surrender and trust that each dancer had that they would catch and be caught, held and supported by one another, and at times, becoming one with the other dancer/dancers. The connections were palpable. Each dance seemed more like a performance piece, rather than a specific choreographed dance. The elements of earth, water, air and sky where omnipresent in each dance, and it really was wonderfully difficult to know, where the dancers and the environment began and ended. The dancers sculpted the space so beautifully and the sparse props seemed to be an integral part of the performances rather than outside elements. There was an anthropomorphic quality to the settings. The chairs sculpted the space and became dancers as well.  Everything seemed so integrated in the film, I did not want it to end. I felt tempted to hide under my seat (yeah like that is something my back would allow!) and sneak a stay for the next screening. It was that captivating for me, and maybe, just maybe, the first step in my dance back to my dance.

The Strength of a Tree Lies In It's Ability to Bend

A number of months ago at an artist show, I picked up a little hand made jar with the quote "The Strength of a Tree Lies In It's Ability to Bend". I have it sitting in the little kitchen window bump out in Shelton, and I look at it every morning, as I work at the sink. It sits under another artist piece, a blown glass piece, that is suspended over the open jar like a pendulum. Each time I read it each morning, I try to take in the full meaning of it bit by bit. Laid up with my back yet another time, I am reading it more deeply and trying to reach that place of flexibility, of surrender that a tree must allow, especially with the winter winds.


 A few weeks ago, one of our trees at the lake was uprooted by an unusually heavy snow, while I was back in the city. When I arrived at the lake, I saw the small casualty of the tall, lanky, young evergreen laying on the ground, it's root ball popped out of the ground. After some professional advice on the best strategy to save the tree, Michael propped it up slightly on a can, and were told that every month for the next six months, we should move it bit by bit, until the tree was righted. Wow, six months till it is upright and hopefully solid in the ground and ready to stand tall to meet the autumn and possibly another tough winter!? Six months. What if I were to think about my body the same way I am thinking about the downed tree? Could I give my self time, and little by little, month by month begin to right myself and become more rooted, grounded and ready to withstand whatever challenges I am faced with next? We were told that if we tried to force the tree totally upright immediately, the tree might be traumatized and more unlikely to survive. We had to approach it gently, gradually, slowly and carefully. This seemed like a very logical approach, although I would be lying if I said I did not want to, with my impulsive nature, put the tree up straight and tap down the soil, possibly stake it and hope for the best right now. But this was not the most practical approach that would insure the best possible outcome for the tree. I accepted that this is what the tree needed.


So, I ended up stranded, so to speak, at the lake for a week in pain, and had to miss the 1st Thursday opening of our Chair Affair, because I was unable to make the drive back to the city. I had to deal with disappointment and resentment. I am not sure what caused my back to go into such painful spasm again, just when I thought I was on the slow road to recovery, feeling so tired of constantly feeling broken inside and out. Before my back's decline, I worked on a large scale drawing. It felt so luscious to feel the smooth, resilient Stonehenge paper on my fingertips, the soft graphite sticks in my hand, double fisting with the brand new fresh white block eraser. I had forgotten how long it had been since I had drawn and "sculpted" with graphite on paper. I cherished every moment of laying down layer upon layer of graphite, while simultaneously "drawing", "sculpting", by removing areas of the graphite with the chunky eraser as images began to emerge from the paper. Carving away at the graphite as I removed it from the paper with the eraser, is much the way I manipulate, move  and remove clay from the mound I hold in my hands, and wait for the image to begin to emerge as I sculpt.  I listened to some old music that I used to draw to, that transported me back to that place I loved. The place of becoming one with the paper, the graphite, the eraser, blackening my hands, till I could no longer tell where the paper, the graphite, the drawing, my hands, my heart and spirit started and ended. That precious time, when you become so totally absorbed in the moment of the process of creating, and seeing the paper come to life and become the unexpected. As I worked on it, listening to Rusted Root and Morphine, the sense of aliveness filled me up more than I can begin to express through words. I stepped back after dancing with the drawing for a while, to see what it revealed to me. The image had begun to come to me in a vision when I had awakened that morning, and began to come to fruition by surrendering to the drawing process. The drawing began to tell me a story. It helped me to work out some of the grief I have been living and helped me to surrender to it through creating. 

I couldn't wait to work on the additional three pieces of large drawing paper that I brought with me, but my body had other plans for me. I suppose it is a slow process to right something, to root something solid enough, to hold itself strong and straight, reaching up to gain strength from the sun and the rain that will keep the ground and the root ball moist and alive, readying itself to take on the next season of it's life. Yes, the strength of a tree does indeed lie in it's ability to bend, to be flexible, to be patient, and trust that in time, if treated with gentleness, tenderness, compassion and not pushing it beyond it's present limits,  it will survive and be as strong as before, maybe even stronger having had to withstand being knock down. Therein lies the lesson, the time, the listening....

Cannibals Gallery Update

Since the sudden, unexpected and unfortunate forced closing of Cannibals "physical" Gallery site on NW 22nd Ave, the Cannibals online gallery is still up and alive and thriving, so keep checking the link as the new physical gallery, possibly a pop up shop or more permanent space is in the works, but we are still Cannibals and Pammela is doing everything she can to find an even better location for the gallery. Knowing Pammela, it will be very special and unique like her, so check back soon!

Artists in Action

Check out my fellow LCAC member Kate Powell and me at work in this youtube video as we transform our once neglected chairs into works of art that will be auctioned off on Mary 15 at the 2012 Chair Affair to benefit the Community Warehouse!

Proud Chair Affair Mama

One of my passions is truly The Community Warehouse and the annual Chair Affair event. An even greater passion is my kids. This year's contribution by Adam and Tiffany is as wonderful as last year's Hungry Caterpillar rocker, which by the way was one of the only chairs to get top bid the first night of the event. This year they wow with the wonderful The Chair At Pooh Corner. I am so proud of their efforts for such an amazing cause. I am sure the auction of their chair will raise lots of money for the warehouse once again! You can also check out their chair featured on the Community Warehouse's facebook page 

The Tao of Tete-e-Tea

Left Coast Artist Collective

I am so thrilled to be a part of the new sister organization of the Portland Artists Collective that has just formed called Left Coast Artist Collective. Check out our blog that I will be managing, as it grows.  It is such an amazing group of proactive, inspired artists, looking to create community. The work that they each do is so diverse and wonderful and I am really looking forward to the evolution of the group as we learn more about each other, inspire, teach, exhibit together, collaborate and show that the whole truly is greater than the sum of it's parts!

Generosity

Yesterday after my chiropractic visit to try to get this back problem resolved, I went for a walk as recommended by my doctor. It was the first non-rainy day so I headed to walk in the Pearl. I passed Antiques and Oddities at 1605 NW Everett St. and peered into the window. There I spotted a few antique tea pots and cups. Just what I have been looking for, to complete my pair of chairs for the Chair Affair (once I am able to work on them again and feeling frustrated as we are getting down to the wire on finishing them). By the way, I am not someone who works well under pressure or leaves things for the last minute. That is way out of my comfort zone, and with feeling like there is no light at the end of this back pain tunnel, I am forced to allow this to be right now. I have no other choice. I went into the store to browse and keep my sanity a bit and found just the little set I have been looking for. Right style, right colors, higher price than I wanted to pay. The thrift stores have not come even close to having any prospects for pots that would be an asset to my chairs. The owner, Steve Wolford, saw me looking and asked if he could be of some help. I got onto my Chair Affair/Community Warehouse soap box and poured out my heartfelt passion for both. After a lovely and lengthy conversation, Steve said, " you are so passionate about this so how about $10" and I responded "that's practically free!" and took him up on his offer. Wow, all you have to do is put it out there, and you never know what you are going to get! He also said that he always has lots of chairs in is warehouse that are a bit beat up, needing some lovin, and that he would be happy to offer to next years event too. Well my back still hurts, but my spirit is filled with the generosity of spirit that shows up at the most unexpected times. If you are ever in the neighborhood, please check out his amazing shop of wonderful finds and support a local business owner that knows the meaning of giving.

The New and Improved Website

After much tweaking by my trusty web designer (the amazing Jenni) I am very happy with the outcome of my new website. Please check it out. I am still completing it but it is up and running and I am very excited about it!

http://jogrishmanartist.weebly.com

Working on My Chairs, Another Blip In The Road

 As I savored working on my pair of chairs for the Chair Affair last weekend at the lake, my back went out on me, so for now, the hopes of getting them done early is a mere dream. I still believe they will be done on time, since we actually have until Feb 10 to hand them in. The frustration, however, remains and I have to just be with it, as I am laid up on my back. I do hope to be up to attending the first meeting of our newly forming (yet to be named) new Portland Artist Collective spin off tomorrow afternoon at The Lucky Lab in Multnomah Village at 3 pm. I am really looking forward to meeting a group of like minded creative spirits who want to create a sense of artist community. I am very excited about the possibilities. For now, I rest............ Here are a few before and progress pix of my set of chairs that will be named "The Tao of Tete a Tea".

My New Website Launched

Just a note to announce a new website that I have created that will allow viewers to learn a bit more about my work as a mixed media sculptor and see a slideshow of my current bodies of work. It is a work in progress so enjoy! Please visit me at: 
  
http://jogrishmanartist.weebly.com

The 6th Annual Chair Affair is Beginning to Come Alive!

http://www.communitywarehouse.org/chairaffair

Still Waiting..........

After a endlessly long time "waiting" to do the final firing of the remaining chairs for my "Waiting" installation, and finally wanting, needing to be ready to move on to my next body of work, there was more unexpected waiting. I delicately, lovingly loaded the last family of chairs into my kiln in my basement studio. When I sat down on the floor to program the kiln, I noticed that under my shelf, where all the chairs were drying, along with those already fired chairs, was a lone broken chair. It had somehow been knocked to the floor, probably by one of the interlopers that unfortunately sometimes pass through our basement. I looked sadly at it feeling, oh no, not another setback. I am feeling this need to move on in so many areas of my life right now, but constantly feel pulled back by life itself happening. My choices were, change the number of chairs , from my original intent of the auspicious 108

  BUDDHIST 

Followers use 108 beads in their malas. They implement the following formula: 

6 x 3 x 2 x3 = 108 6 senses [sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, thought] 3 aspects of time [past, present, future] 2 condition of heart [pure or impure] 3 possibilities of sentiment [like, dislike, indifference]


The meaning of the number 108 has been a resonant voice for me that I did not want to stray from. It did not feel true to myself to change it, even after all the "waiting" for the piece to become. I was feeling impatient but a need to be true to my self. I did not want to take the easy way out. My other choice, was to create another chair, after the fact, so to speak, after it felt finished, to be a substitute for the broken one, but I felt that the integrity of the piece, for me would be compromised.No one else would notice the change, but I would, and I have put too much into this piece to compromise now. Each chair was created in a specific order, with a specific intention and story behind it, representing what was happening in my life at the time. My decision was to pick up the crumbled, broken chair and try to mend it, not an easy task. Two of the legs where broken off. Ironically, this is how I am feeling at the moment, broken, trying hard to stand and support myself emotionally,  and trying to mend my heart, again not an easy task. So this is what I was compelled to do. The chair that broke was ironically entitled Disappointment, from when the Waiting installation was not accepted into the Portland Building last year for their exhibit. So here I was, faced with this wounded little chair, like Humpty Dumpty. I used all the tricks of the trade, vinegar, slip, toilet paper shreds , time and patience. It is now, after a few hours of tedious work, back together again, not the same as it was before. Now it is awkward, unbalanced, misshaped, unable to stand on it's own, and not pleasant looking like the other chairs in the family of Waiting, although they are each a bit unique, and have their own personalities. It looks a bit out of place, and there is no guarantee it will survive the firing. More waiting. I will sequester the chair on it's own shelf for the firing, so that if it shatters, it will not harm the other chairs. I scratched off the title from the back, breaking it a bit again, mending it again, and then carving it's new name on the back, difficult with bone dry clay. It is now named Loss and will now be moved, taking the auspicious  spot of last chair, the final one to be finished in the installation of 108. It will hold a small feather that a bird lost, and that I picked up and saved in Florida, during a rare, brief walk to gather myself, and try to take care of myself. Sometimes, things get broken, and they will never be the same again. Sometimes they can be mended, and will still never be the same either. Part of life, part of hurt, part of being human, part of death. Whether it is relationships that are not what you once thought they were, that you thought you could count on and now you feel deceived, or the people you love break and you have to let go of what they were, and accept what they are, or are not, right now. We have to try to give up all hope of a better past, and try to accept and make peace with what is now. Change is inevitable, suffering is optional, so they say. Neither feels easy right now, but it just is. In a few days, when the broken and mended chair is dry enough to join the others in the kiln I will fire it. I have to give up any expectation that it will not break again, will not survive the firing. I will have to wait and see and know that I have no control over the outcome, but trust that the outcome will be as it should be.

Please Vote to Support the Community Warehouse! (You don't even have to leave your house!!)

THE IDEA

Every year thousands of tons of usable furniture and household items are dumped in area landfills by people who don't know what to do with an unwanted mattress, couch, or television. Don't Dump It, Donate It! is a campaign to collect reusable items and redistribute them to families in need.http://www.communitywarehouse.org

THE PLAN

Community Warehouse collects and redistributes donated household items and furniture to individuals and families working to rebuild their lives. As the only furniture bank in our area, we help those who are resettling after crises such as homelessness. Funds will be used to increase our collection capacity, addressing our shortage of frequently requested items while keeping usable items out of the landfill. This project involves community education and outreach, collection and landfill diversion, and direct human service through redistribution. The gently used goods will provide low-income families with the ability to cook whole meals, eat together at a kitchen table, and enough blankets, towels, and sheets along with beds to sleep on.

PLEASE VOTE HERE TO HELP MAKE A DIFFERENCE!

One Foot In Front of The Other

"In the darkest hour the soul is replenished and given strength to continue and endure." H.W. Chosa As difficult as it might be, I am trying to move forward, sometimes not sure if I have what it takes to propel me forward, yet I try. My art gives me solace and when I got a call from Pammela at Cannibals, it was just the nudge I needed to get myself out there, by putting my art out there. My art is an extension of my soul, my spiritual practice, my self portrait, and the opportunity to let go of some of my creations and put them into the world, somehow creates space to create new work, in response to my life right now. Whether it is in response to the beauty of the colors of Sedona and The Grand Canyon, or the darkness that I feel inside, that loss brings. So I have 6 of my smaller mixed media sculptures on exhibit at Cannibals. They are part of the holiday offering, to allow people to considering one of a kind locally created artwork. The sense of art community that Cannibals offers, is one sense of place that will keep me moving forward now, one foot in front of the other. "In release, we begin." ~ From The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo

How To Step Back Into The Dance of Life

Last night I had to push my weary body to take that first step back into the dance of life, by returning to dance. It was not easy and it was exhausting. How strange the struggle is, of going forward with life as usual, when life is anything but usual. How to allow myself to attempt to experience joy, without guilt. How dare I, but how dare I not. It felt like the moving walkway in the airport, that you try to find the perfect moment to step onto, without missing a step. To step back into my old life with the people and commitments and find that opening, because yes, things are not the same as usual. Yet those places of solace, those comforting richnesses are still there, I just have to step into them, to find that opening. How strange to enter the dance space and see the poem that was strewn on the floor, the same poem we were dancing when I left three weeks ago, a lifetime ago. There was a comfort in that sameness. Like in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy awakens from her "dream" to find all is still the same, waiting for her as if she had never left.  It felt that time had somehow stood still, and that the dance had waited for me. In reality, it is the longest Mary Oliver Poem we have danced to date, so I was soothed to see that I was there the first day we started dancing it, and would be present to continue the poem until we were done. The line that chose me last night, did not particularly speak to me, from Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches? My line was, "And I would touch the faces of the daises," but when Winky commented that maybe it meant to be gentle with myself, I felt touched, moved, held, loved. The line my fellow dancer chose spoke to me in a more immediate direct way, the way that I have been feeling " but suffer my devotion."  so I know I danced that line too. This is what it feels like right now. How devotion always seems to bring suffering of some kind. The devotion does not feel like a choice, but is the suffering inevitable? I am trying to figure this one out, to dance it out in my life right now with baby steps, the only dance steps I can take at this moment. And the last line of the poem is, "I climb, I backtrack. I float. I ramble my way home."