Aaron's thoughts from the 27th

I shifted my agenda today. Broadened it to focus on engaging unapolagetically with the people and geography of the hill. I feel myself coming to know this little slice of the market, its pimps, business men, tourists, druggies, flower carriers, workers taking a smoke break, drinkers up at the Virginia Inn. Each group has their own energy and potential, but I feel too clumsy to fully milk those potentials. As I get to know the space better I come to see and feel its ebb and flow. It moves in waves of excitement and activity, one lift after the next for a buzzing cycle, and then dead and grey and seemingly over for good until the next rush of circumstance brings a sense of life to the place. It was the same way driving a cab. Some combination of my timing, and my shifting confidence and perception created an image of the city breathing in and out, filling up with energy and emptying out of it in bursts of varying length. When I think about it, improvisational dance is often the same; bursts of intensity and spans of reflection or even boredom as we follow our naural patterns of being.

Back to the lift I think of the highlights.
An awkward time sitting next to an old man on the driftwood bench half way up, unsure how to tap into the rich well of his experience. He shuffled off.

Dancing after pushing the exuberant large man up at a run. Translating the movement of his flesh across his back into luscious gyrations as I leaped and skittered my way back down, slashing my right arm with a feather I had found in its cuff.

Looking up the hill to see KT dancing, sad and poignant to my eyes, conveying a shared experience of struggle and half found release.

Helping a man with his cart even though at first he doesn't want help, I notice a scrawled sentence tucked into the chaos. It reads "He's at his limit." It touches me poignantly as coincidence often will do. An openness to the universe might be another way to call it, but how can I can convince people that it is worthwhile to have such an openess.

Watching what I assume to be a pimp and a prostitute arguing. He gets real agressive when Adam the photographer joins me, but we don't back down. They move off just before some bike cops arrive. Adam says he gets stuff like that all the time because of his big camera

Pushing the girl who gave me her full weight up at the end. I could have stepped back and lifted her into the air. I had her stop and she continued to give me her weight as she looked up at the sky. I must admit, such trust is sexy.

The exuberant large man and his entourage appearing time and again, almost like a reoccuring theme in a drug trip, each occurence more surreal than the last.

I struggle to put these moments into a larger framework and feel like we are making a mark. At the same time I hold on to these as moments of gratification withing a very difficult project. Without the joy and craft of movement to buttress my doubts, the project seems naked and open to question. When people ask why we are doing this I wish they would stop and really discuss whether it is worth doing because I am not sure, but they move on pretty quickly and it is all I can do to get out a line about openness to strangers or trying to shift the way you experience going up a hill. Carrying on seems like the most important thing. Its what seperates a momentary idea from its experienced execution, even though the reality never turns out like you expected.

heres to carrying on

aaron