what s/he wrote

my fellow theatre-maker and creativity coach tamara kissane posted this last week, titled how to fall like a cat. i'm a sucker for how-to posts, and i'm hoping to write a few myself sometime soon, so i was excited to read this one from the start.

both the post title and the idea of watching an animal for clues about ways to be in the world are very cool. but the part i've been thinking about over and over is tip #3 about what to do mid-fall:

Tip 3: Orient yourself. It’s easy to get caught up in the HOLY SH!T of falling and remain overwhelmed by it until you’ve hit the ground. However, if possible, and as soon as possible, orient yourself. Which way is up? Which way is down? What’s the landscape and where are you headed? What can you do? What resources are available to soften your landing? Understand what is happening in the moment. Orient yourself so you can land feet first. 


my first thought after reading this was: how do you know where the ground is? but now i'm thinking: how do you know what the ground is? is the ground the loss of the job, the bad review, the betrayal? is it the first time you can't pay the bill, the second weekend when the audience is only a quarter full, the packing of your stuff? or is it the first day of the new job, the moment you start to make a new show, the night you get dressed for a new first date?

how can you hope to feel oriented if you don't know where or what the ground--the bottom--is?

maybe, just maybe, hitting the ground is the good part of a fall. maybe it's the part where you finally feel oriented, the part where you know what's the real hard stuff and what you're just imagining to be bad and scary, the part where you feel the dirt between your toes and go from there.

maybe when falling, i should try very hard to remember that hitting the ground and being grounded often aren't very far apart at all.

i'm super curious: when have you been most grounded in your life?