Day Five
day five, we received a love note about accountability. fair enough. message received, loud and clear. and, really, 2013 has started off as the Year of Accountability. i've tried to make myself create a personal yoga practice, and so far am very delighted to say that i've only missed a few days of this new year. generally, the practice is small - often only 15 to 20 minutes a day - but it is growing and my enjoyment and love of it is too.
and so, i hope, that with my body stronger and mostly healed from the injury that took me out of dancing two years ago, i hope that i will be able to do the same with dance and rediscover my love of this art.
tonight i read most of the other love notes before starting. some really spoke to me, some i skimmed through, mostly because i have a lot on my plate tonight. the silence one intrigued me and i decided to dance around my house in the dark. this is pretty dangerous, as our living room is fraught with furniture that i soon discovered my night vision didn't make out. but other than a few bumps and bruises i did pretty well. i also decided to dance without any music. i set my timer on my computer and began.
i don't have a dedicated dance space, not really. so with the lights off, the only bit of light shot in from the front door window. it's clear stained glass, but as the night approached it threw a clear bright ray of light into almost like a spotlight. as i danced, a story unfolded. a battle began, between the inky blackness of the kitchen (the room directly inside the door) and the little pool of light in front of the door. i didn't bellydance, not really. but instead what came out were leaps and lunges, pushes and pulls as the light fought the dark for the little dancer trapped in between. i have no idea where this story came from - imagery inspired by some of the love notes i guess - but at times i'd be dancing in that warm little circle of light, arms outstretched, bathing in joy...and other times i'd be sucked into the shadows in the dreary kitchen, hunched over, head hanging down, struggling to get back to the light. my steps were leaps in the light, turns and joyous bounds of gratitude for the light shining on my skin. in the dark it was a fight, dynamic tension and sorrow. i would press up against the door, reaching for the light, stretching up to absorb it. or i would slink into the night, cover myself in shadows, and undulate in the shades. the emotions were different and it was so intense to feel this come out without any music, unbidden.
this was a really amazing experience and, while not necessarily the bellydance practice i was hoping for, it was fantastic to let my body just MOVE.
and so, i hope, that with my body stronger and mostly healed from the injury that took me out of dancing two years ago, i hope that i will be able to do the same with dance and rediscover my love of this art.
tonight i read most of the other love notes before starting. some really spoke to me, some i skimmed through, mostly because i have a lot on my plate tonight. the silence one intrigued me and i decided to dance around my house in the dark. this is pretty dangerous, as our living room is fraught with furniture that i soon discovered my night vision didn't make out. but other than a few bumps and bruises i did pretty well. i also decided to dance without any music. i set my timer on my computer and began.
i don't have a dedicated dance space, not really. so with the lights off, the only bit of light shot in from the front door window. it's clear stained glass, but as the night approached it threw a clear bright ray of light into almost like a spotlight. as i danced, a story unfolded. a battle began, between the inky blackness of the kitchen (the room directly inside the door) and the little pool of light in front of the door. i didn't bellydance, not really. but instead what came out were leaps and lunges, pushes and pulls as the light fought the dark for the little dancer trapped in between. i have no idea where this story came from - imagery inspired by some of the love notes i guess - but at times i'd be dancing in that warm little circle of light, arms outstretched, bathing in joy...and other times i'd be sucked into the shadows in the dreary kitchen, hunched over, head hanging down, struggling to get back to the light. my steps were leaps in the light, turns and joyous bounds of gratitude for the light shining on my skin. in the dark it was a fight, dynamic tension and sorrow. i would press up against the door, reaching for the light, stretching up to absorb it. or i would slink into the night, cover myself in shadows, and undulate in the shades. the emotions were different and it was so intense to feel this come out without any music, unbidden.
this was a really amazing experience and, while not necessarily the bellydance practice i was hoping for, it was fantastic to let my body just MOVE.