Story making.

"I had always felt life first as a story - and if there is a story, there is a story teller." - G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

I've had this quote on my mind since returning from the Willow Creek arts conference last week. Willow Creek is the only arts conference that offers a track for dance in the church, and Paul and I felt really fortunate to attend. The church is a sight to behold...is it an airport, a church or a convention center? Am I exhilarated or confused or disgusted by its vastness (with my father's disdain for country club churches ringing in my ears)? What is happening here?

All of that baggage aside, it was a pretty inspiring deal. I felt excited to be an artist. I grew in the delight of combining my love of dance and my passion for dance therapy inside the walls of a church. I was genuinely touched by the honesty and truth presented in so many venues, through the eyes of so many types of artists. I learned that Twyla Tharp wrote an amazing book on being creative as a Christian, and it is now next to be read once I finish "Body Theology" (a-maz-ing). My story right now is drowning in dance, dance therapy, and this thing we call the body - and how it can possibly blossom within the institution of the church. And I'm not gonna lie, I'm pretty much wetting my pants about it all.

We left the conference to head straight to Minneapolis for a wedding weekend. I was a bridesmaid in my friend Surbhi's wedding, a traditional Indian affair. Let's talk about story, I was entrenched in the amazing culture, traditions and food. It was pretty incredible. And being back in the Twin Cities made my heart smile...literally. Ah, I miss that place. Got to see the girls and my precious godparents and it was good, good, good. Why are they there when I am here?

And I came back home to create yet another story...the story of my first bicycle crash since beginning my bike commuting. After catching my front tire in a hole and braking much too suddenly, I flew over the front of my handlebars and landed hands first and then chin. No broken bones, but I did manage to crack my cell phone screen and bruise my pride pretty deeply. Ouch.

I think the bandaids covering my chin will be an especially nice touch when I have an interview tomorrow...the first of a couple coming up in the next weeks. Hoping that one is the one and trying to be patient (I'm very poor at this) as I see what the story teller throws my way next...