Everyday I introduce myself to space,
To the full soft space of breath,
To skeleton joints, opening gateways to movement, 
To the moment as the breeze touches a sky of birdsong.

My mind does not know space, it longs to. 
It knows only to give way to the spaces between its own coming.
In those spaces, 
It humbly rests,
While my senses translate.

Observations on dancing in a class, May 15    

Today I was in a dance class, the leader said over and over, “Release your jaw, soften your tongue.” This is music to my ears, how many times I had dancers come and ask, “What’s with your mouth?” Or my friend Art reveal his secret dancing name of name for me is fly catcher. But still, I can’t jump on my response to hearing those familiar words, if so, I’ve already hurdled the moment and missed myself. I have to take it new; my jaw, my tongue, softening, down my spine, open jaw, open hips. As dancers we have to listen again, not to what we ever knew, but to what is here now.

As I entered the room, I noticed my response to see a woman that I barely know but had a mix-up with long ago, I found myself imagining her eyes – her view on me. The word ‘bad’ appeared. I had a brief wondering, could a ‘bad’ person be an authentic dancer, could one with no integrity listen and trust and move and reveal? I danced beyond the question, where there is no-one in this dance, where there is no one owning these sensations. The question itself fell away as a falsity.  

Sometimes the leaders’ words impinge upon my actions, usually only when I hear a statement that appears to exclude what I’m doing, when I hear a statement that seems to demand something other to happen. I once heard a teacher ask us to notice if we were making ourselves ‘special’ by not fitting in. I loved the sweet confrontation of this question. Now I remember, I can re-hear the statement, the invitation, and include what I’m doing within it.

Reflections on a committed series.    

Some reflections on our Tuesday committed explorations.

Sometimes we arrive to the sound of ocean waves, or rain, chimes. Sometimes we focus on dancing alone. Sometimes the conversation is kept alive by switching between crayon ‘markings’ on blank canvas, back, forth, marking, moving, reflecting, responding. Sometimes we dance from ground, pushing up and falling down through space from forgotten surfaces across the body. Sometimes we hear the sound of being alive amidst silence.

Sometimes we dance in partnership, sometimes we think we can’t and sometimes we find utter joy in the presence of another set of unique movements around us. Sometimes we see how relaxing space is and throw movements like liberation. Sometimes we listen into small space and it cushions like life-juice of amniotic sac. Sometimes we play in the centre of the room as community then diffuse through the room alone. Sometimes we rest.

Always I do not know what will happen. Sometimes I’m scared by that. More and more I notice the extraordinary landscape of daily creativity as leadership approaches. Usually I remember to relax. Always I’m inspired and amazed by the Infinite and Infinitesimal potential of movement and scores to play with.
Sometimes I’m sad to be so far away from the teachers and community who taught me to explore this vast world through simple leadership principles called Soul Motion. Every time, I’m grateful to stand at the beginning of a fresh path carving new ways with you.


January Stillness    

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