Izzy Writing

........I draw the sign of infinity with my body and my life changes.
.......Drawing with my head, I close my eyes and soar into the ageless, fathomless depths of my ancestral lineage,
the present realities of all those connected to me, and the unknown future. I connect to the Life Source.
....... In the rolling of my shoulders, like two gears on a clock moving through time, I open my chest, throw my
shoulders back, stand tall and gain the strength to lift my head beneath the burdens I have carried for years,
beneath the burdens that others would continually seek to lay upon me. You’re not good enough. You’re ugly. You’re so
duuuumb. You don’t do it right. You don’t deserve to be loved if you’re like this... The rolling of these gears moves me
forward, past those burdens—propels me out from under them and into the truth of self-knowledge.
....... Drawing infinities with my ribcage, I connect to all those other hearts, touching them as they touch me. It
weaves together the breaks in my heart and bridges yawning chasms that have sprung up in the wake of betrayal
and loss. My lungs move more freely and begin to slowly chip away at the stifling asthma I have had since another
driver’s drunken lurch into my life.
....... Drawn with hands, I paint a masterpiece of light around myself, between me and those who surround me. I
beckon to the Eternal Spirit, I call it to me whether I am ready for it or not—of course, I only think I’m not. It
would not come if I wasn’t ready.
....... In the continuous rippling of undulations, my twisted, compressed spine is strengthened; it is stretched so
that disks have room to breathe once more. As the vertebrae relearn how to articulate, I relearn how to stand
up—learn for the first time in my life how to stand up for myself.
.......In reverse, that body-waving infinity sign draws the energy of my own Life Force upward. From the ground I
begin to feel in my guts, then in my heart, then to think and finally to BE as graceful and sure as my feet, as
strong as my dancer’s legs, as fiery and creative as my blessed womanly vessel.
.......And oh, the infinity of hips! Forward, backward, upward, downward, swiveling and swaying in the currents
of life. Little ones, big ones, slow ones, fast ones, moving, standing still. Drawing the sign of Infinity, I could no
longer ignore the voice of my feminine center—first a polite, “Ahem,” then a heart-broken cry, and finally a
bellowing scream that shattered my world—caused me to try to shatter my own world.
.......But I had been drawing infinities for too long and my connection with life was too strong.
.......I continued to draw infinities.
.......Circles too. Endless circles in the whirling and spinning; concentric circles of unfurled skirts and swirling
veils. Around and around myself, until I began to understand the constant circle of life and death and rebirth.
Every year, I am reborn—I tend to shed my skin in the fall. And every month, drawing circles with my
pelvis—big flat circles, tight, throbbing circles, slow lazy circles—my womb is cleansed with the cycle of the
moon and it is reborn.
.......Chest circles—hurt in; hurt out—dumped into the ground to become the fertilizer that it is—fertilizer for
creative crops. Love in; love out—poured back out tenfold so there is room for more to come in. Blood in; blood
out—pumped by my internal drum, speeding under the rhythms of music and body, back out in the exchange with
life’s musicians. Breathe in; breathe out—breathe in; breathe out—breathe in; breathe out. A sigh of
contentment, a gasp of excitement, an exhale of frustration, an inhale to sample a fragrance…breathe in; breathe
out…
.......Curling circles with my hands I wind up the scattered pieces of my spirit like winding the threads of a bobbin
that I have dropped and that the cats have batted around the floor, around the legs of the table and under the
refrigerator. I draw them into me, reunite them with the whole—and I entice others to do the same. Come on,
come on, we whisper to each other in the circular dance of smiling gazes in the hafla ring, or between performer
and audience, or between musician and dancer, and our hands mirror that sentiment. Come with me, take up your
dance—your own dance of circles and infinities. We draw circles in the earth when we link hands and tread the
ground, one behind the other, unbroken through time. It is here that I discover I’m not so alone and strange after
all.
.......Head circles—I work at my stiff neck, work through the pain, open my throat which has been a sealed
fortress for so long. Out comes a laugh, a song, a growl, a bark at boundary-crossers—my truth. Around and
around, winding new pathways in the wastelands of my brain—in the relearned skills of playing zills, in the
circular patterns of memorizing music and choreography, in the patience and diligence of working to master an art
form, I build new bridges across the miniscule gashed rifts created by three separate impacts to my head.
.......Infinities and circles, from top to bottom and bottom to top, spiraling me ever deeper inside myself, ever
deeper into life. I work to train my body and my body ends in teaching me about me, and so I dance to express the
Me I have found and inspire someone else to do the same. And in watching the other someones, I see expressions
and movements that astound me, so I go home to work to train my body, and my body teaches me about me…
.......Drawing infinities.
.......Drawing circles.
.......Drawing my life in the patterns of this dance.

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