Life is a dance, and the dance is new and strange and takes time to learn. Music is not only notes, the silences in between are just as important. Likewise, in this dance when people don't move, stand frozen, petrified, it is all part of the play. When people become experts, real adepts at their particular dance they seem to vanish, become invisible, disappear completely from the field of vision of those less adept. Some people stand in the wings, looking on, frozen in frustration, others move compulsively, shaking their limbs in spastic moves, ranting and raving all the while. At some moments all (or most) of us have had our hour of glory and executed some of the steps as well as could be expected; everyone looks on in admiration (unless you did them to perfection, then hardly anybody notices, you kind of vanish) and mostly we ourselves. It might have been a flash of inspiration or a "peak-experience". Then we usually falter and go back to shuffling around hesitatingly, haltingly.
The dance is a constant form of play, of interpretation and pulling back, going with events and retreating from them or trying to twist them (you might get your tuxedo all creased that way) Penetration and pulling back, the game of men and women. Absorption and expulsion, the game of women and men.
Spring 1975. Kyoto.
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