one by one...
like the fingers of a monkey being pried off something it wants...
(have you ever felt how tight a monkey's fingers grip? lemme tell you... its tight.)
so here i am in paradise... my monkey-mind (jumping from thing to thing, idea to idea, obsession to obsession) - still holding on to things i didn't even realize i should be letting go of.
my identity.
how ironic? our burning man camp is called "IDENTI-T FARM"
We give out iced tea and 'playa names'...
Some people call themselves by this playa name year-round. Others dust off their name tag for the festival and then store it back away with their goggles, el-wire and various leather & furry things until the next year's creation of Black Rock City, Nevada.
My name is Phoenix.
I think i was given that name because of the "rising from the ashes" aspect of my life.
I went to Venice Continuation High School for a semester. Its called "Phoenix High" on Zanja Street in Venice - by the 99 cent store.
I remember that first day dad drove me over there to start school.
(I had lost my license - part of the reason i was sent to this school anyways)
My dad did that reach-around-behind-my-head scratch/pat ending with his giant hand cupping my neck - just holding my spinal chord in his mammoth grip as if to say, "I gotcha, pal. You're gonna be okay."
With his hand on my neck he said to me without taking his eyes off the road,"Hmm... Zanja. 'Ja' means 'yes' in German. ZAN - YES! This is gonna be good for you, nannoo."
I could read the unsure, but hopeful energy through the corners of his mouth,
Here i was starting at a new school... again.
But this time, it wasn't because my Dad's career had lead us to another city, it was because I was a disaster.
I had quit dancing ballet (my one and only dream & passion) because of an injury and i was subconsciously on MISSION DESTRUCTO.
How out of control could i spin in contrast to the highly structured, technical based art form i'd been submerged in for so many years?
It's funny that i remember my Dad driving me to Phoenix High that morning, because much of that time period (around 2 years) is just black. I have little to no memories at all and often i am told stories about myself that floor me and make me cringe.
But i came through it... winding up in a pre-school. (full circle metaphor? anyone?)
I remember "waking up" as though my mind finally said "ok.. NOW we can start being present." a little boy named Finley was skipping across the floor as my mom taught creative movement.
I had gone back through another round of mainstream school only to spiral harder and faster and more wildly and ended up being expelled again.
I didn't leave my mother's side for months as she detoxed me herself.
I don't know how or why... but i just kept on rising from the ashes... emerging from the smouldering embers of my self-destruction time and time again.
I'd chilled out (finally) once i was married and a pre-school teacher... right?
But then i was stagnant.
...and not really all that in-love
and my future looked reeeeeally long and boring.
And so i found myself at this magical place called Burning Man, being gifted the playa name "Phoenix"...
Carolyn Casey says "Magic is the willingness to cooperate with everything."
and i went with it.
I let the dust storms surround me and blind me.
I let my everything melt off... and let everything i knew as "Zani" or "Zan" or "Xani" or "Alexandra" just slough off.
And i became "Phoenix" out there in the magic desert world.
But then... isn't that an identity too?
How is "The Phoenix" of me not something that i'd wrap my monkey fingertips around and grip on to...
scared to let it go.
A bunch of girls from my burning man camp got matching tattoos... Almost branding that identity onto themselves.
I think it's beautiful... and of any identity we have, i think the identity we fall into on the playa is the most authentic and beautiful...
but nevertheless...
I am on a mission right now to let go.
But its the hardest thing i've worked through so far...
Letting GO of my identity.
Letting GO of mattering somewhere to someone...
And just being ME.
Because as long as i am the only one existing in my existance right now, well.. then... why would i need to identify myself to myself?
It's okay not to matter.
Because at the end of the day we DO matter...
cuz that's all we are anyways, right?
just 'matter'
So i know that i matter because i AM matter...
but i am letting go of mattering to YOU... and HIM... and THEM.
and it's really really hard.
So i renewed my subsrciption to yogaglo --- 18 dollars a month and you get unlimited yoga downloads and you can go take classes in santa monica...
(which obviously won't be happening for me for a while)...
But i can take calss from Elena Brower and Kathryn Budig and Dice Iida-Klein and so many others that i love love love.
Maybe then i'll figure out who i am... and how to let go of it once i figure it out.
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