Real Living.

Recently there was an eighty-one year old man that came to speak to a group of artists. He was a professional tango dancer, and had been his entire life. He danced, he performed, he toured, he taught. He talked to this group about dancing, form, art, posture, and living. In this brief lecture he said that after his performances many people would come up to him and tell him what an extraordinary dancer he was, and then they would ask him what he did for a living. He would tell them that he indeed danced for a living.

When he told this story there was a kindness but also an in-credulousness to the telling. Well, of course, he danced for a "living". He did what he loved, he did it everyday, and this is how he got so good at it. Why is there a separation between what we do, and what we do for a living? What we love, and what pays to do what we love. Mind the gap. There should be none. Do what you love, that's it, that is the "Real Living." 

Same Love.

Working with children. I sit, I listen, I mend, I heal, I fix, I laugh, I learn, but mostly I just try to care. A child turns to me, he runs over to me actually. He is four. He nestles his head on my stomach. He climbs up on my lap. He leans over to my face and puts his hand on my cheek. He comes to my ear and tells me calmly and quietly he loves me, he then leans back and looks at me and asks me if I am a boy or a girl.

It doesn't matter does it? He just asks because he is curious. The love is there regardless. I am at peace. And, in that moment I am reminded to check my vanity at the door. How dare he not know I am a girl, look at me? I am...eh, who cares. Love is love, it's all the same. The love is accepted, there is no ego any more.