Writing beginnings: Undercurrent

As part of my course Writing the body at Trinity Laban, I want to share the outcome of a writing practice I took on this week. It was introduced by Dr Kristina Kapadocha .

It consists of:

15min of movement practice

15min of free writing

30min of re-visiting the writing and re-arranging for someone else to read.

Please feel free to leave some comments hereunder.

Undercurrent

Sometimes the body is so loud that I cannot see, feel, hear, listen. Tell her to shut up and she will. I somehow think it is ok but it is sad. Maybe because the treasures are all there, hidden inside and within, latent.

 

After following my impulses for a while, getting lost in my thoughts and not registering them…….

……I started to follow the undercurrent……………ffffffcccchhhhhhhhhhhh…….

 

I became aware of my hands dancing and drawing the space, feeling the light of the sun on my face, sensing the warmth of my breath. Before that I was blind and deaf to my own body becoming ever so loud. My soma full of meaning and resources I could not grasp. So blind that I thought my body was silent, empty. An emptiness vibrating with a sense of fear with bottomless echos. 

Now this light and soft undercurrent is given a voice, a timid flowing joy. 

Trusting the resonance of its rightness, of its purpose, of its pace. 

Not stopping, again it is a question of speed and momentum. Willing the river to run. 

Do we say Run about a river? or flow? or pass by? Or fly pass? is it waiting for an invitation to be welcome?

 

The river seems to be continuously unobstacfully (obstacle) avoiding rocks and stones. Snaking its way to the shores of my Esperance (hopes). I somehow like the surprise, the finely perceptible shocks and the dynamic potential of these splashing collisions with life’s obstacles.

Buddhism says obstacles are opportunities. 

But when the river is reduced to random drops in a streamless drought, the rocks appear like giant mountains with no leading path to ascend or skirt around. 

In the shadow of these mounts, I tell myself I should become as vast as the ocean. 

Only Now I can see the water being retained behind the dawn. 

Waiting in this uncanny silence that it may break out and the water would escape and overflow and, for a moment, swallow all life around before it settles and lays itself on a peaceful green landscape. 

 

I should not stop there waiting in fear for the dawn to break. But rather trust……

trust what? 

 

From all our collective past lives. Our trillion cells indefinitely re-inventing themselves since ‘la nuit des temps’ (from the very beginning).

It is always the same. Life after life.  Attempts after attempts. Breath after breath. The undercurrent. Emerging from the water at the unexpected time of needing to take the first breath to take the air in. Birth. Rescuing us from drowning. 

Taking place at the exact moment when water is not There but water Is all around and within. 

At that instant, where do we place ourselves?

At the center of this earth? At the center stage of life?

 

The Blue Planet. 

Where are the green trees?

The white ducks….bathing in black oil. 

Are they swimming or breathing? 

Humanity is facing extinction. The earth has no Visage. 

When shall we start mapping and tracing our existence on earth?

Extinction, resurrection. 

For sure we will be back. In another form, another modality. 

Containing the same ancestral water that has always been there. 

Life after life. The liquid and its molecular memory. 

For sure we will be back, we will re-form and re-shape, mould and adapt. 

 

Waiting to be re-born.

With the undercurrent of our ancestral lives flowing in our veins.

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