I haven't worked on any of my stories nor the book this week. I even had to trade in my Tuesday morning writing.
To steep myself in poetry.
Tomorrow I will be interpreting poems from the old masters to the new rising stars, on subjects ranging from - well, everything that poetry is written about. Meaning, life and death and birth and imagery, love and anger and rebellion and alliteration, and life. Poetry. Has consumed my week. And it will again next week, with a mostly new set of poems, if the Deaf contestant makes it to finals.
This week my writing has been purely business. And in my head, in the corners not taken over by translation and reading and practicing the poems for Poetry Out Loud.
I also believe that being steeped in poetry will help my own writing. Soaking in the words well written and absorbing their power and spirit and energy. Reading enhances writing, no? Yes!
And now I must return to said poetry, although I will also be doing 30 minutes of step aerobics at the same time, thanks to Wii.
I love my profession. Especially when it let's me be steeped in performance and literature, like now. (I've also been connecting with several other performance organizations; but I will hold those details until more decisions are made and confirmed.)
"Where the hand goes, the eye follows; where the eye goes, the mind goes;
where the mind goes, is the heart; where the heart is, lies the reality of being."
- Bauhinia Adriana, The Mirror of the Gesture (ancient dance treatise)