In this episode, we talk with Ellis Elliot about creativity, caretaking, what it means when we face a “break in the field” as she did, and living in freedom.
Today we discuss:
- The Iceland reunion! How Ellis, Kate, and Betsy met in Iceland and how this experience shaped them.
- How Ellis’ early years as an only child were spent mostly in solitude, and how movement, dance and writing helped Ellis make sense of the world.
- “Break in The Field,” Ellis’ new book and its exploration of shared humanity.
- Mothering six sons, three of her own and three stepsons, one of whom has
- The transformative relationship with her stepson Julian and its impact on Ellis’
perception of everything.
- The experiences that allowed Ellis to feel free in her own skin.
Ellis is a published author and poet, dance teacher, and yogi. She has blended a family of six grown sons and lives in Juno Beach, Florida with her husband Tim and dog Mabel. She’s a facilitator of online writing groups called BeWilderness and teaches adult online ballet. Ellis has an MFA from Queens University and is a contributing writer for the Southern Review of Books. She has been published in numerous publications, and her chap book “Break in The Field” was a finalist for the Two Silvias Press Wilder Poetry Book Prize.
Nureyev at the Orpheum
Two men sat in the row in front of me near the aisle; one, in a sapphire cardigan had his arm around the other, pulling him
close as they both sobbed. We were watching Nureyev, who was nearing fifty then, and known as one of the greatest ballet dancers of all
time. I was young, just out of college, and didn’t
understand their tears. I thought it could be be- cause the famous Russian defector was past his prime. His coil and spring less precise,
and the flagrant fling of his crimson cape imperceptibly off tempo. Or, it might have been
the nearness of beauty, the push and pull of legend etched in every articulated muscle. Now, as my body begins its own slow defection, I sit between those two men. I rest my head on the one free shoulder, as we all feel the cape of our aging bodies begin to slip to the scratched wooden stage floor, an into a puddle of what lies between beauty and loss. It is a place so beautiful, I weep.
This is what I’m looking for, the SuperBrainOmeter to produce a ticker-tape explanation of him. Use soothing words ,please, like lullaby and sugared violets. Not like hemorrhage and thalamus bleed. Although they have a slight allure.
He has no smile or grimace
to illuminate my way, only clear, hazel eyes. One fixed, one following. May I have your attention for a minute? I ask the fixed eye, I have a few questions. The answer is clear burnished copper, with a jade
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“Break in The Field”
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