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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The story of my signature style, Tejedora Dance, is HERE
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