Reasons to keep at it

in this last crucial phase of the completion and making of Migritude.

There is a moment of insight that comes only after I’ve hauled myself to the studio, unpacked saris, plodded through motions of the script.

Keeping at it terrifies me. And compels me. I have this ideal of the one thing that will save me.

There is a poem by David Whyte about the digger wasp, who kisses the tarantula, digs its grave, lays an egg on its belly, then buries it. The twist is that the murderer is the digger wasp, when we all expect it to be the tarantula. I would keep at it if I could bury something every day, with my egg on its belly, my hatchling to feed on its body.

It seems though, that everything outside us is the opposite of keeping at it. Survival comes from adapting to constant change. From variegating, diverging, being the mutant strain. Keep at it and you die when the waters rise.

I try to keep at this business of being awake. Of meeting fear, again and again, noticing her colours. This morning I realized I don’t want to live without fear. Good thing that, because I have no choice.

I do want to overcome my aversion to fear – my freeze, duck, switch off, go to sleep response. I want to see fear for what she is, embrace her, let her move through me, feel and breathe what she brings. Let her set me in motion.