In these forested hills above the valley of San Jose, wreathed in morning fogs and sudden afternoon downpours, I have had a meeting with a brother in arms – Erik Dalton. To be fair, it’s quite a stretch to try to make a revolutionary encampment out of the manicured gardens, endless fresh fruit, and Watsu pool of the Pura Vida retreat, but we each pick a battleground in this life, in the end. Me, I fight under the flag of the kinesthetic, the proprioceptive, the bedrock expression of the fascial net, and the sense of motion in space – the power and value of the culturally ignored inner sense of self.
I wrote about Erik and his work a number of years ago in my abortive “Body Language” series, but here was the first chance for us to work together and see close up what the other was about. And similar we are: driven to share, entrepreneurial, sensitive, easily hurt, contemptuous / arrogant about other methods / people not measuring up, antsy because we are aware that we don’t measure up either, bad boys at night, enthusiastic small boys in teaching – we each have wives of full heart, each a talented daughter on whom we dote, each heart would rather be working outside, but both our heads are addicted to the connectivity of email and the rush of affecting large numbers of people. In both of us, the language of music lies behind our way of thinking and presenting.
