The Imperfect Magic of Being Alive

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“I’m still alive and I’m not afraid to die!”

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The strange and delightful cheerleader in the purple wig, spandex, and multi-colored jockstrap enjoined us to shout this together.

We did. All 2500 of us.

I’m still alive, and I’m not afraid to die.

We moved our bodies. We breathed. We said no. We said yes. We said maybe. We let it go.

We were being asked to shake the habitual.

The stage filled with fog. There were rattles. Strange things calling. The holy people were gathering. We were with them.

The drumming started, rolling through us, shaking our fingertips and toes.

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A thought crossed my mind: “My religion is everywhere.” 

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The band – The Knife – brought us into a trance state with drumming, lights, color, and strange sounds. The dancers were moving like a guedra, being ridden by the energies of opening and gnosis. I don’t know what Gods were there, but the spirits were present. Ancestors and future. They filled the rafters along with all the noise.

We were alive. And at least in that moment, we were not afraid to die.

That is what presence feels like.

  • What fills you with that sense of your own vital, glorious mortality?
  • What brings you into full attention, all your senses engaged?
  • What do you allow yourself to be taken over by, subsumed temporarily into pure experience?
  • What makes you feel alive?

The concert wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t 100% emotionally satisfying, not like other shows I’ve been to. Nonetheless, it was grand.  It was ambitious and committed. The performers took a risk, pushing the audience past what may have expected. The magic worked, even with an imperfect execution. Just like some other rituals I’ve been to or made.

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Sometimes we have to allow ourselves to be filled with the magic that is offered…

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…Even when we would do something differently. We have to allow ourselves to open to the joy of being in a room with others, sharing something. We have to let the music fill us, carry us, even if it isn’t always our cup of tea. We have to allow our expectations to be shaken to make room for what is, and what is to come.

We learn new things this way. We leave with thoughts and questions. Most of all, we leave with energy running along our skin.

To say, with all our might “I am alive, and I’m not afraid to die!” requires an opening, a trust, a giving over to the spirits of event. It requires a softening and a strengthening. A curiosity that lives beyond opinion. A letting go of habit.

Sometimes it isn’t always shaped the way we want, but…The Knife Screen-Shot-2013-05-13-via Kubkub.org

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Magic shapes us. If we let it.

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4 Responses to “The Imperfect Magic of Being Alive”

  1. ione

    Hi Thorn. I enjoyed your blog post. I haven’t been to a night like that for ages! I think here of a saying by Walter Pater, “All art constantly aspires towards the condition of music”, music being the only medium where matter and form are indistinguishable and it goes straight to your soul (Id say ‘fetch’). Music lifts me, when Im writing it, performing it, dancing in devotion or just for the pure joy of it. All the cultures of earth from time immemorial from the beats of Mother Africa to Schumann and Sinatra, the music of the Fae, of animals and in nature, from the soul of the earth to the highest consciousness, is just one long musical staff. Best wishes, ione x

    Reply
    • Thorn

      Ione, yes. Your thoughts make me wonder what music is like on other places, with other creatures making noises.

      Reply
  2. Jennifer

    Sometimes we have to accept that less than perfect in the moment will be exactly what we remember and what motivates us when we look back.

    Reply
    • Thorn

      Jennifer I agree with this. We never know in the moment what gets woven into our consciousness, our cells, our lives.

      Reply

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