Category Archives: the body

listening

from “Agua” by Pina Bausch

Steve Hassan said recently in a conversation, “The meaning of communication is the response it elicits.”  Yesterday when I was teaching an improvisation class at Boston University, I demonstrated a movement twice.  The first time, I performed it “empty” without giving it any dynamics or bodily feeling.  The second time, I did the same movement, but waited for an impulse to arise in my body before moving.  Then I had them to do the same process, and asked them how they experienced the difference.  One young woman said that it was “emotional.”  I encouraged her to think of it more as “full,” rather than having a specific emotional color.  At the same time, I acknowledged that the emotional feeling could be there for the dancer as they inhabited the movement, but if their performance became to full of their own emotion, there was less room for the audience to have their own experience.

That got me thinking again about movement and expression and what response I want to elicit from my dancing communication.  What I really want is to ignite a bodily response.  I want them to be moved – bodily, sensually.  To be delighted.  To breathe deeper, to feel awakened, engaged.  Looking back over the decades of watching performance, those are the moments that I remember.  Watching “Agua,” or “Stomp” or Kazuo Ohno, or RIDE, and most recently, irresistibly, Crystal Pite’s Dark Matters,  I remember moving in my seat, having to remember to breathe, bodily feelings like waves rollicking through my body, or a deep, tender stillness. I also remember as a young dancer how important it felt to show my feelings in dance, and how long it took to navigate into deeper waters.  Steeping is a process.

I am reading Sherry Turkel’s Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other.  Her observations on the disembodying effects of technology, obsessive texting and digital life in general are troubling.  On the other hand, teaching at B.U. this week, I am heartened by students’ willingness to dive into the body, to try anything, to attend, to engage and to play.  My theme for this week  (and this life) is how to feel our own inner, sensual landscape, and how to feel its connection to the landscapes around us – even the rushing, noisy urban ones – maybe especially those.  They are game, they are brave and I love them for it.  So I am finding the meaning of my communication this week:  beautiful dances, wild surprises and heat in the room and the body.

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where my body’s been

hiroshi nonami

Keeping Things Whole.

In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces

where my body’s been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.

Mark Strand

mark your calendars!

Embodied Horsemanship Workshop!

Sometimes the reason we were first drawn to horses gets lost.  In our hurried lives, we can lose touch with the playful, joyous part of simply being with our horses.  We can get automatic and fragmented in our relationships with them. The rush of preparation, the push of riding goals and the pressure of competition sometimes comes at the expense of our first and most precious desire to savor and enjoy their incredible grace, strength and beauty.

Learning to slow down, focus our intention and become more present not only improves our horsemanship, but we can recapture that original dream.

This workshop will also show you how to:

  • Keep your horse ‘tuned up’ mentally, emotionally and physically
  • Prevent injury by stimulating the natural flow of oxygen in your horse’s body as well as your own.
  • Enhance flexibility, softness and resiliency in your horse and in you…no matter what disciplines you want to master.
This workshop is for those who would like to become more attuned, mindful and improvisational in their relationship with their horses on the ground.   We teach a simple-six step practice that you can use with your horses on the ground and in the saddle. 

 

 By expanding mindfulness, embodied consciousness, softness and authenticity, and learning basic movement awareness and listening skills, you will create greater physical and emotional balance and ease for you and your horse.  AND…we believe you’ll discover how this practice can bring a greater sense of attunement, harmony and presence to your relationships with the other four and two-legged creatures you have in your life.

 

This is an unmounted workshop for those with all levels of experience.

SIGN UP HERE

big sea

 

This morning on the beach in Aquinnah – the fierce face of the sea mother.  I could hear her roaring when I woke up, and could not wait to see her wild self.  Jacob, my autistic godson, felt her too.  All day he was turbulent, changing, moving.  It felt like there was no real trough in which to settle – all crests and foam.

I am feeling stormy some days as well, but more and more I am finding the depths, the sea floor stillness in myself.  I like to think about that – the fury above, and the holding quiet far below.

Mary Oliver always has a way to see.

I Go Down to the Shore

I go down to the shore in the morning
and depending on the hour the waves
are rolling in or moving out,
and I say, oh, I am miserable,
what shall—
what should I do? And the sea says
in its lovely voice:
Excuse me, I have work to do.

Breakage

I go down to the edge of the sea.
How everything shines in the morning light!
The cusp of the whelk,
the broken cupboard of the clam,
the opened, blue mussels,
moon snails, pale pink and barnacle scarred—
and nothing at all whole or shut, but tattered, split,
dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture gone.
It’s like a schoolhouse
of little words,
thousands of words.
First you figure out what each one means by itself,
the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop
       full of moonlight.
Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.