In which she danced, Skyped and performed all in the one day

Sunday.

I don't know if Sunday is actually the seventh day where God was reported to have rested from his work or if Sunday is actually the first day of the week so it's all hands on deck and let's get this party started. In my case, last Sunday was a crackingly busy day where I was supposed to be in three places at once. No rest for the wicked so they say, which means that somewhere back in the days of yore I possibly did something positively evil. *insert maniacal cackle here*

Seriously though, regardless of the fact that super busy days are not amongst my most favourite there's something about them that makes me feel alive and purposeful. And, if I really want to be honest, two of the three major things I did on Sunday were things I was really happy and excited about.

The first was a rehearsal with the Weave Movement Theatre over in the central northern suburbs of Melbourne. I was going to talk about Weave in detail in this post but feel that it deserves a more indepth post in it's own right so for now I'll just say that I am so honored to be a part of such an amazing ensemble. It's been nothing short of joy to explore movement and dance with the group and I find that each time I do I come away feeling energised, inspired and thoughtful. I was disappointed to have to leave early but I had already indicated to another group that I wanted to be a part of a Skype meeting to discuss some upcoming workshops and needed to go before rehearsal had finished.

The Skype meeting...........

I think this was my frustration for the day. I found myself wishing that I hadn't dobbed myself in to be a part of the discussion, even though the topic was something I have been passionate about for a very long time and was looking forward to getting my teeth into it and being part of instigating some change.

Alas, no.

Sometimes, I feel as though I'm the crazy salmon trying to swim up Niagra Falls when it comes to certain groups - groups that I have been a "part" of all my life and yet have never really felt a part of things. The group has it's own "culture" as it were and it is so deeply, deeply ingrained that I cannot ever see it changing. I came away from the Skype meeting feeling extremely lost and wondering why on earth I bother even trying to contribute. Still, I feel as though I should still keep plugging away doing the things I do and contributing where I can in the hope that the results will speak for themselves.

And speaking of speaking, Sunday night was all about that! 

A couple of weeks ago I was invited to be one of the guest writers to do a reading of their works at the Writeability Salon at the Wheeler Centre for the Emerging Writers Festival. Sunday was the big event and so it was with excitement and great trepidation that I joined four other writers with disabilities hosted by Carly Findlay at The Wheeler Centre.

Back row: Carly, Fiona, Sam
Front: Giovanni, Michelle, me, Jax, Kate

Let me say that it was such an honour to be up there amongst such fabulous, talented writers, each writing passionately from their own experience. I always come away so enthused after events such as this and spurred on towards taking my own writing further and exploring my own creativity.

I read from my piece It's all fun & games until someone loses an eye. I wasn't prepared for how vulnerable I felt afterwards. It's a very exposing piece, I guess, and I did feel very exposed after getting up and virtually saying to a roomful of people, "I was a bully." I thought a lot about it whilst driving home after the event. It was cleansing too in a way - as though those times from way back then no longer had a hold on me. I guess if you recognise something, own it and learn from it you free yourself from the guilt that holds you to ransom otherwise. 

A group of us went out for a meal afterwards, riding the adrenaline and euphoria of a job well done. It was so lovely to connect with new people and discuss our own experiences and writing journey. I think we were the loudest table at the pub! I loved every second of it and have made new connections as a result. 

I feel as though I've found a place of likeminded people where I fit - people who tell it like it is; not sugar coating things behind forced positivity but who speak about their experience with passion, whether it be with joy, sadness, rage, humour or sensuality; inviting others in. I've found a place where I feel safe to explore my own self and, on reflection, pride at being able to identify as a person with a disability. Is "this" a disability in the truest sense of the word? I don't know, but I don't shy away from the word. I'm keen to explore this notion further.

And finally, I guess that's what Life At My Level is about for me.