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Posts tagged ‘body memory’

Safety

I finally stole a moment for my practice today amidst the chaotic situation I currently and uncharacteristically inhabit. I was alone in the house for 30 blessed minutes. Music played. I danced. And I thought about safety. I had stolen time, yes, but the room was not entirely safe. My antennae pricked up for the return of a car. I didn’t want to drop too far in and be abruptly disrupted or, like a molting snake, be discovered in a soft open condition. Intrusion. Interruption—these are very treacherous for me. Read more

Five Things

The hardest thing for me about this past week is starting a new life. I’ve gotten reasonably good at this in my own sphere—projects, locations, content, people—but returning to visit my parents in my childhood home has been, for better or worse, changeless. Today I sat with my father at Spaulding Rehab Hospital observing his speech therapy. He relearns the language of counting to 5. How to touch five blue wooden blocks and count, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. How to look at the numeral ‘5’ and say five. Sometimes the therapist puts two blue blocks on one side and five blue blocks on the other and holds up a piece of paper with the numeral ‘5’ and says Which one is five? Read more

Songs in Skin

I wrote these reveries during last Summer Movement Monastery.

The first set came from focusing on skin as we moved, then writing from the feeling.
The second pieces are from my journal.

Read more

The Rosebush and Rapid Method

The most Rapid Method of spiritual development? Keep reading. Here it is.

My teacher called his Sufi training method Shattari—the Rapid Method. It was a wild ride! This is the spiritual lineage of Dervish Dancemeditation. Embodied spiritual development moves us quickly and fully through the stations of spiritual path. This is because it is embodied, and body truth is not the same as mind truth. Bodies are complex, ahead of any game the mind can devise. The body’s doorways to the mystical center are infinite, swift and full. Read more

Inviting Curves

Emailing with friend, Maggie, about the recent Dervish Dancemeditation weekend in Asheville where 5 Rhythms is regularly practiced—she mentioned that she loved Lyrical—I wrote this in agreement: I find the Curvilinear Flow—my preferred descriptor for Lyrical (the 5 Rhythms aren’t actually rhythms but textures)—is certainly my native movement habitat. Since it benefits the entire fascial system, if I had to take one movement arena to a desert island, it would be Curvilinear Flow. I shot that off in email, then afterward got to thinking about verbal cues for movement and what they invite. Read more

Life & Death & Awareness

We are born to die.

The usual verbiage is that we are born to live and die, as if existence is an arc, but as far as the body is concerned, living and dying are integral. Like a snake we continually slough off skin, layer over bone, rip connective tissue and re-solder it. Living, at the biological level, involves constant dying. Life and death are not just cyclical but simultaneous. Life and death are one. And the same. Our culture gives us so little affection for small, daily deaths. Read more

Aftertaste

The other day I had a call to make, one I dreaded. The person is perfectly kind on the surface but I knew, from past interactions, that afterward I would feel as if I’d donated blood. More than a pint. Much more.  I debated not calling. How to get out of it? Or how to get something out of it?

The aftertaste is what stays with me longest. Read more

May Day-ly Practice 7

Your dance will heal you.
– from my mentor, Phoebe Neville

It was utterly gloomy here this morning. When I first woke, in my leaden lower body I remembered Grandmother. She lurched slightly as she walked, her bowed legs, which eventually gave at the knees, wrapped in a kilt or wool skirt. She loved to walk in the woods, stop and watch the birds which she knew well––all their names, male and female colors, and their songs. Her lower body, to my child-eyes, was a vast, tipless pyramid. I never saw her thighs. Ever. Not in pants. Not in a swimsuit. Not naked by chance. This morning my legs felt like that.

Then I slept. Sleep, like rain, melts away the crusty points of pain. I repeatedly forget that sleep is not only about psychic rest but also about mending torn bits. My legs are back again with all their distinctions.

I will performing a dance dedicated to grandmothers this Mother’s Day as part of Echo’s Mother’s Day Celebration in NYC. So perhaps this sleep gathered my own Grandmother to me. Or let her out of me.

My dance will heal me. It will. It does.