This spring has been fierce.

I arrived from overseas back to Nova Scotia at the beginning of May, and went into rehearsals for Human Desire Machine III: Extant. Extant is the opposite of extinct, and it has been the fervent word-prayer in my mind and heart this whole spring. It feels like we are walking on the edge of an era.

HDM III is the third hybrid work I have made with Christopher Spencer-Lowe. A ritual composed of live and recorded sound, action, and video projection. We are two creatures called from the future to return to a time when “there was still possibility.” We dance around a cauldron, to remember what it is to be embodied. In 3 cycles of 10 minutes, we pull in a deeper sense of our bones and of our connection to the Earth, we sing vibrations to expand the voice of our souls. We call out to the universe. We remember when there was a web holding together all life on our planet Earth. We call out “to revive, to remember, to return.”

The weather was unnaturally cold for May. It has been a rich time – a time dedicated to Doris the cat, my dearest friend. Doris passed away at the age of 19 years, on May 21 at 10:13 in the morning. We had a beautiful sweet last day together. She led me to all her favourite spots in the garden, and to purring sessions on my pelvis. I am heartbroken at her passing. I will miss her terribly. 

Doris, December 2018.

Doris, December 2018.

I am grateful she died naturally and that I was able to hold her gorgeous body when she passed. I am grateful for our most exquisite relationship. Doris gave such deep joy. And I know I gave her so much love and pleasure too.

The death of being reminds us (even through pain) of the great treasure that is an embodied life. To feel the grass. To touch the wind. To kiss. To breathe. To move. To dance. To cry out as we feel deeply. And, to love with open heart is a risk. I want to risk again and again. Oh summer! Come in, come in and warm our bones, as we give thanks for what we love the most.

Doris, May 2019.

Doris, May 2019.