And your very flesh shall be a great poem.
~ Walt Whitman ~
I started something new this past week: exploring movement in a dance studio close to my home, light and sky pouring through the top floor windows onto sprung-wood floors.
It's curious to me that after about 8 years of only my cells and ideas dancing quietly within me with no outward dancing-choreographing, I am moving within a new language of textures, atrophied muscles, and spaciousness for old self-judgments to fall to the floor.
Whitman's line ~ And your flesh shall be a great poem ~ wraps around and through me. I am reminded that merely by being present in the studio, inquiring into the ways in which my body desires to move and express, is more than enough.
Silence breathes between limbs rising, shuddering, crawling, spiraling....my torso shakes, undulates, sinks, curls....I leap, swing, slither, tiptoe, sweat....Rest.
photo credit1: Matt Parker; photo credit2: me