My dancers were not getting the right idea. They were dancing from their preconceptions. I had to show them what I meant.
Although still recovering from a very serious injury, in which my pubic bone had separated, I stepped in to dance.
The main point of the dance is to be in communication—in as responsive a state as possible. Yet the dancer is not subservient. She dances from a state of equivalence. Thought to sensation, body to land, molecule to molecule. Respect your skin, the ant, your breath, a shadow.
You will note I am not bending low, or stretching out my legs, as at that time I still could not; but there is communication throughout the whole of the body. This is what matters—that the information flows: receive, direct, release, respond. The wind is a child who wants listening.
The dance lasted five minutes.
At one point, my ancestors walked in. Europe’s feet crackled the dry grass. You can see the old dark crone, growling her memories. She left as quickly as she came. Everyone laughed. There is no possession.
I walked away from the space. The arena amongst the trees met me more fully than anything else I had ever met. But I heard it deeply as well. That is the reciprocation.
Participants on this page: Claudine, Hellene, Ellie, Geoff, Patrick, Zsuzsi