Language and the Fear of Presence

Here’s the picture… we are starting to create a new version of a commedia show.   We have come from all across the country to sit in a room together, wear masks, and collectively grow a reflection of what we see happening to our species - on an internal and external level.  

It quickly becomes daunting, as the overwhelming flood gates of issues are opened and the depth of double standards, hypocrisy, and madness of ill treatment and unfairness pour onto the table.  It becomes evident to me how our culture has become so destructive it is causing a global crisis by ripping humans away from a connection to the earth - and yet there it is, still smiling at us (and listening to us) directly, from the tools we are using to reflect it’s false and dangerous reality.   

We use words to communicate, but words and intellect seem to be one of the problems - maybe we rely on them too much.  Could all language could be born from a fear of presence and being not being enough - needing to be “sure” you are getting across your point to something else? 

There seem to be not enough words in the English language to express the beauty of the world - or to discuss love or anger or despair. I feel we have limited our experiences by the limitation of our words. And limited our ability to relate to each other, by relying on words as the main form of communication. 

Maybe this is why we (Tut’Zanni) have all been drawn to physical expression - where not the words, but the sounds of the words, the rumble of the body, and the feeling - not the intellect - prevail.  Maybe the communication, and physic we can bring, is in being present in the moment.  To fight down the fear of needing to explain and reason our way out of this, and get into the truth of the emotion in the here and now.   If we are unafraid to be present - this can be an invitation to come to the present moment.  To be unable to resist joining us in the expansion of the here and now.  

I have heard, it is only in the present that anything can be done.  If we can sit bravely within our own bodies and skin, be unafraid of what may arise, laugh deeply at ourselves and share our joy and pain - is this the medicine we can provide a species desperately trying to remember who we are?  

What day is it?’, asked Winnie the Pooh.

‘It’s today,’ squeaked Piglet.

‘My favorite day,’ said Pooh.

— A.A. Milne, The Complete Tales and Poems of Winnie-the-Pooh

- Allegra