Monday, August 26, 2013

there is no movement without rhythm

Africa has been calling from the depths for many years, I feel the call coming very close to the surface. African rhythms awake my body like no other sound, and movement unravels by itself. I hope soon to set my bare foot on African soil...and I trust that where and how to begin the exploration of this vast continent will reveal itself, just like dance.

Friday, August 23, 2013

Time Loop

After a few months of cyber silence, I return through the same route I left... Rumi.
I have just returned from a very interesting workshop -Moving Arts Lab- at a beautiful place -Earthdance-
Movement and nature opened me up and I had many feelings bubbling inside, on the day I was meant to depart and enter the city I asked Rumi for a poem for this state of mind.

- Rumi -

Spring, and everything outside is growing,
even the tall cypress tree.
We must not leave this place.
Around the lip of the cup we share, these words,

My Life Is Not Mine

If someone were to play music, it would have to be very sweet.
We're drinking wine, but not through lips.
We're sleeping it off, but not in bed.
Rub the cup across your forehead.
This day is outside living and dying.

Give up wanting what other people have.
That way you're saf.
"Where, where can I be safe?" you ask.

This is not a day for asking questions,
not a day on any calendar.
This day is conscious of itself.
This day is a lover, bread, and gentleness,
more manifest than saying can say.

Thoughts take form with words,
but this daylight is beyond and before
thinking and imagining. Those two,
they are so thirsty, but this gives smoothness
to water. Their mouths are dry, and they are tired.

The rest of this poem is too blurry
for them to read.