It is this time of year at the pre dawn that a river of gurgling high pitched watery noise comes with the light. I lie in bed awakened to these sounds and textures so soft a transition from the world of bed and blanketed silence. Birds singing early morning – how do you describe it – “song?”. It’s an entry to the day that feels so right for me.
The eternal commentator disagrees calculates how few hours we’ve slept how many we “need” where we have not done it right, not done the night thing enough, looks to make me wrong, it’s an old old habit ….
I get up and head outside. Flow avoids inertia in round one of a contest that has been know to last all day.
Outside part of the scene is the river of birds sky light trees colour flowers, and mind wondering if description is possible this is a visual landscape a musical one a tapestry of lifetimes of ingredients. There is a strong urge to record the beauty
Words are beautiful, they have given me so much pleasure in poems and plays in songs and speeches in declarations and declamations, on the radio and overheard in buses and airports
but but but and this is why i dance – perhaps – they confine they reduce they limit they stop presence
and what about ted hughes, blake, ee cummiings were they limited- it’s your lack not the words, it is all describable and you have fallen short……in your head head in your heah aheh head (what song is that??)
and still i love and appreciate revel in and am fascinated by the truth of polarities so that all that closes opens and all that limits frees and and so on yet this morning in wanting so much to find a way to describe the birds the awakening the light the softness of this gentle “organic” (and that’s a word that trips me into a whole other room) transition i am as a man who wants to hold the sea in his hand and finds nothing of what led him to grasp
i think this is why i am in dance spaces so much, it’s the music, the movement, the installation, the bodies and spaces between – there’s a texture that is replete with sound light sensation and the mystery of the unspoken yet deeply communicated. perhaps this is what “communion” is pointing at – a sharing of the mystery as the birds the sky the light and “me” this morning.
Moving the unseen into consciousness is the way that comes to me, there are no playlists no lines, no steps for the dancers, no fill in these boxes for the installation makers that i work best with. It’s why it’s so hard for me, like a slap of the tramlines when they ask, “what was that track you played” – the art historian perhaps wanting to know the exact shade of yellow in vincents sunflowers – it’s a whole, its a moment , its a sand mandala that dances me, images come tunes arise, memories of sounds dance in the space, fingers grapple with keyboard and the sound waves to the dance mixes with the movement moment and goes again, this is the way of life, things come , things go and that is the nature of all that lives and flows. it’s the opposite of such formal education as i was confined by, it suits me, deep down it’s a welcome outbreath
To pen the words, to make the plan, to decide before the happening is not the way that flows in this body. so many ways for so many people, so many styles of being. so good to get to recognise our own, to approve it, to follow it, to see where it leads. I look back over more than half a century of being a student of something or other – each time i was stuck was when i tried to be something that i’m not. Dance has taught me to trust my feet, to follow where they lead, to fall into the flow of things.
Then like one of the morning birds to a fig tree branch, an old set of words from some wordsmith lands somewhere in me “don’t pretend to be who you are not, don’t refuse to be who you are’
the birds have stopped, the light is here, the day has begun , the magic has slipped behind the layer of another morning on planet earth