As fate would have it, in the midst of “Mirrors” I’m finding myself in an especially major bout of reflection. The dig is deep these days, my insides are hollowing themselves out, seeping through every pore for my observation. But the tricky thing about reflections is they are just an echo of the inside, just an impression, a shadow of the space taken up by the real thing. Much like a memory…
Our brains are incredibly complex gizmos, engineered with railways of apt tissue to trigger every thought, idea, action, and response. So much of this organ dedicates itself to function, learning, tackling new tasks. But one special little part of the brain is made specially for hanging on. Tucking away moments, years, entire lifetimes in its dark, cozy corner.
The problem with this system is the interruption from the heart, who also has a habit of holding on. Only the heart isn’t quite as adept at sorting as the brain. It keeps what it likes- what feels good. It hangs on to its favorite image and lets the rest slip away with the wind of time.
As my twenty-seventh (!) birthday approaches, I am making more time to reflect. Space to bring my head and my heart together and remold the memories. It’s coming up in the miles I’m walking, the nostalgic songs I’m studying, the journal I’m filling. In the studio, I’m pouring myself into the rehearsal process, letting it take me into those raw places where the subconscious and the soul connect and find physical movement that shines out through my chest. I’m remembering, reflecting, and refracting. Rebuilding, renewing, reawakening.