Shamsi

ouf’da.

I have been a ‘mess’ of “I don’t wannas” for the past couple of weeks.  An irritable child with a bad case of Summer Vacation blues.  I want days to luxuriate on a blanket in the park with nothing but books I want to read and empty journals and drawing books with colored pencils, pen brushes and the like.

Today is different though, today I want to do the things I’ve scheduled, that are ‘on my schedule.’  Today I am excited to be passing Reiki attunements and I am excited that I will be at the studio for my Skyping Dancemed session with Kate. 

It is a later time than we typically practice.  I’ve had the entire day to spend with Shelly, lazily fixing breakfast, drinking coffee (I know I shouldn’t, but it’s Sunday,) flipping through the television channels and eventually puttering around the house.  I like the evening practice.  I like not being in my house to practice – Shelly’s band practice will just be starting up at home.  I know it’s nearly midnight (11PM) for Kate, but the idea of being in the empty studio (I can hear someone else’s band practice coming at me from a distant corridor) with space and the only one behind a locked door is radiantly comforting.

I am excited.  The Reiki attunements are completed, everyone has left.  I turn on my computer and open the “Skype” program.  No one online.  I wait.  Shortly I hear Kate beeping in and I accept the call.  She tells me it is cold in London, 50 degrees I think she says… just wow, it’s still in the 90’s here most days.  We discuss, based on our last ‘face to face’ encounter, that one of us will lead the opening sequence while the other follows.  Kate suggests “light & shadow” or “fascia work.”  I ask and she reminds me of the “light & dark” exercise; focusing on and moving from one side of the body while the other stays at rest, then switch.  I like this one; I haven’t worked with it more than four or five times.  Kate then suggests ending with witness dancing.  This is beautiful I tell her.  I was lamenting earlier last week that one of the practices I love, but rarely get to participate in is witnessing.  Kate intelligently suggests a “Plan B” in case Skype or either of us goes “offline.”

I ask Kate to lead the opening sequence and she agrees.  She does some set up work on her side (at first her front is in total shadow and all I can see is an outline.)  She moves her lamp, the computer and adjusts the computer sound.  We begin.  Skype disconnects.  It’s like the needle on a record player skipping; at first I notice something wrong, but it takes a moment for my brain to process.  I go ahead and hit ‘play’ on the CD player.  I’d put a CD in earlier in case Kate needed me to supply the music.

I re-start.  Inhaling, forward bend – slowly this time, I’d been on Kate’s speed until Skype bailed.  I continue with the forward and back until the backs of my legs give way easily in the forward bend.  I twist back and then forward twisting over one knee.  My breathing feels shallow, I being to pay more attention to my breath and feel the tightness around my diaphragm.  I feel like a pillow has been pushed under my lungs and won’t allow me to take my full measure of oxygen.

I’ve left the web cam on… I am experimenting in my own time (I haven’t told Kate.)  I have always been intrigued by the idea of movement with and without witnesses, with and without people; how much of a difference does it make to have another person ‘receiving’ my information?  On any level.  I see myself

I bring my awareness to the room and realise I’ve been twisting back and forth for a while… I move into a gentle forward bend, legs extended, feet flexed, toes pointing upward.  My calves and Achilles tendons feel the pain of this more than my hamstrings or back.  Rocking back, pushing into table, I vaguely wonder whether Kate does this piece any more?

Wide-legged side to side opening, then spinal twist with up and down, gently massaging the spine.  Eventually I roll into pigeon, but extend upward through my torso, feeling the deep stretch in my hip flexors.  I find myself not wanting to do ‘pre-prescribed’ movement, yet my body unconsciously remembers Jana (Jennifer) and how much she totally loved a movement that no longer enters our opening sequence.  I push up on one arm and one knee, opposite leg extended, opening wide through my chest and feeling the stretch take over the whole of my body.  This feels amazing.

Gradually, eventually, I see the time and move into our agreed upon “Shadow & Light” exercise.  It always feels easiest to allow my right side free reign, and so it goes.  The left side, dully hanging, no energy, I really do feel the sense of “Shadow” as I disregard my left side.  The right side, vibrant, full of movement, full of “Things to say,” extends and reaches, makes shapes, makes fun of the left side for not being able to move… it suddenly strikes me that my right side feels like an angsty, “full of herself” teenager, like a Senior who’s just become a Senior but hasn’t done the work to get there yet…

The web cam changes how I feel.  There is no human being on the other side of the camera; watching or receiving.  There is an eye, it is robotic, it is watching me (it allows me to watch me), I feel the sense of being watched and it takes my attention from inward focus to an outward, more global awareness.  I’m not sure I can explain this yet, but now that I’ve pin-pointed the feeling, I will be more aware of its coming and going.

After 10 minutes I switch sides.  My left side, so oddly wants the interaction of the right.  It feels as though the left almost requires the stimulus – more perhaps it just likes the idea of ‘reacting’ to the right side’s action.  So strange?  I’ve never noticed this before.  The left does well, even if it does feel somewhat rusty – I feel like a lop-sided tin-man.  I begin to move like a tin-man – I see somewhere in my head Gene Kelly moving his arm and leg in exactly the same squeaky, angular patterns.  It is a struggle.  I want to receive information from my moving right side and allow the left to simply follow.  This is such an odd feeling…but kind of like how my life feels right now – a large part that just wants to ‘follow’ and ‘react’ rather than instigate and plan.

I am still struggling with my left side’s movements when I hear Kate beeping back in.  I love being able to see Kate’s face as we speak (everything I’ve always disliked about the telephone…gone!)  We smile at one another; our non-traditional communing affecting us both beyond the practice?  I suggest Kate ‘goes’ first for our witnessing section.  She agrees.  I watch, the line goes dead… again.  We’ve agreed that should the line drop while we are in the middle of witnessing (a simple practice whereby one individual moves, while another ‘witnesses,’ watching, but not becoming engaged in the mover’s drama) that the watcher will simply hold the space and we’ll call back afterwards.  This happens; I am holding the space for Kate.  I lie back on the floor, my knees bent, feet flat on the floor.  I hear someone’s cello? from down the hall.  More noises from the surrounding band practice rooms… I feel light as I imagine Kate’s long form gracefully filling her living room with light, precise, delicate movements.  Maybe her movements are not light and delicate, but that’s what I see in my mind’s eye.  Again, the beep.

“Hullo?”  We’re together again – my video is not transmitting.  Dang technology.  I finally get my video to transmit and turn on my music… trusty ol’ Buddha Bar VI, Angelic Voices remix.  Through my half-closed eye-lids, I see Kate getting comfortable on her stomach in front of her computer, and I let loose of my movements.  I am still feeling this expansion – this need to stretch beyond my skin.  Not to ‘get out’ simply to feel the elasticity of it and to push my skin, my ‘container’ to its furthest boundaries.

The subtlest of ‘blips’ catches my attention and I notice that the computer screen has lost Kate’s image.  Ah well, I know she is witnessing for me, even if she cannot see me.  I love this, taking up space.  Taking up space with movement, in large swaths as though I am a painter with a mile high canvas attempting to reach and cover as much space without ladders or harnesses – just my body – expanding.  Something distracts me; a loud noise?  More band practices beginning… bad band practices… My attention dissolves, I have 3 minutes left of my 10 minute witness dance.

I slowly wind down and realise I am alone.

The starting and stopping of today’s practice has rattled me a bit.  I do not feel all of the ‘grounded’ peace I typically feel.  I hear the beeping of Skype and Kate ringing back in.  Even for the starts and stops, the continuity of meeting of simply “showing up” every week gives me an anchor.  It’s a nice feeling.

My friend Kate Russel approached me at our annual Summer Movement Monestary with an interesting proposal; so interesting, I could not decline.  We will meet weekly via on-line video conferencing to practice Dancemeditation together for her Master’s dissertation.  I am intrigued and excited.

This is our first ‘online’ practice.

As we start I felt sticky, tired, sore and in general beat up.  I let my mind fall on the previous days.  Hours spent in my car driving to and from dancing gigs.  Jumping from the vehicle to the restroom, changing, hitting the floor/stage, dancing, sweating all of my make up off and back to the restroom to change, drive home, wash the feet and face, fall into bed.

I agreed to meet Kate at 9AM my time because I have plans this afternoon.  I brazenly stayed up until 3AM… awaking at 8 to prepare my space and resolve any technical issues before our meeting.  I am beyond tired.  I am exhausted and I feel the age of my physical body and the brutality my spirit, emotions and mind have been through this past week.  I have driven myself too hard.  I long for the safety, comfort of and eventual respite given by the practice I am about to engage; for so many reasons.

I realise as I bend forward, in the first instant, the first motion, how much tension is in my hips, always in my hips.  Gradually, through the repeated backward and forward of the opening sequence, I feel this tightness begin to subside.  Kate and I have agreed upon 20 minutes of opening sequence followed by an undetermined amount of time in spinal work (spiraling circles up and down our spines in three prone positions.)  I hear static in the speakers, my mind turns to the technical aspects of our journey this morning.  My first Skyping attempt.  It worked (I’m amazed.)

We talked, we realised neither of us has an appropriate set list by which to do the movement we’re looking for this morning.  I scrambled through, Kate said, “take your time.”  I am not feeling patience this morning.  I want to be…”there” already and to the movies this afternoon, and… never ‘here.’ Dang but I’ve got it bad.  I pull together a set list based on our agreed agenda – Opening sequence, spinal release/circles…who knows what else.  I know I haven’t properly chosen the music in my haste, but I’m ready to get to it.  I’ve plugged my laptop into the external speakers for bigger sound and adjusted the webcam + microphone so that Kate can hear the music…there is static.  I don’t know if she can tell…  There is static from the microphone on her side + the music from my side which is going back into her location (all mixed together.)  I know this will make me crazy if I let it.  I let it go, we’re here for the work, for each other, for Kate’s project… for some unknown (to me) advisor who will read this later and probably laugh.

I hear the static through the speakers and occasionally peel my eyes open to see where Kate is in her flow… we are off, I don’t worry.  Occasionally I see Kate, hovering in a movement, waiting for me to get there… I begin to worry.  I try to let this go.  That’s not what it’s about, us being the same.  Somewhere I know this.  I feel a strange resistance?  Not toward the work…toward the idea that I have to be aware of Kate, other than that we are doing this at the same time.  My mind flits to Dunya, “when it’s just me and Stephanie, we turn on the music, close our eyes and go.”  Stephanie is another Certified Teacher.  My awareness is ‘too outside.’  I bring it back in, I twist back, I feel my lower back stretching into submission.  I go forward to one knee and my left side rebels.  I can’t go too far forward yet in that twist.  Forward to the side, twisting back, my lower back finally gives, a series of satisfying pops in my spine.

I am also consciously aware that Kate has a different sense of what the opening sequence is.  I studied with Dunya earlier.  More recently (since Kate’s been practicing) Dunya has modified the opening.  I let it go.  I move naturally into pigeon after the wide-stance, side-opening sequence.  I peer up to see that Kate has gone into seated spinal twist with gentle up and down.  I go there later in the sequence…I have been away from the group practice too long… I don’t know, somehow I don’t care, I don’t feel that this matters – we are all going to the same place.

I am in a wide legged ‘Chinese’ split (as my Grandfather called them) leaning over one leg, stretching along my side, moving across the front, low to the floor, around to the other side, coming to the center over my hips and reversing the movement.  I love this stretch, fluidly feeling the tension of my ham strings, hip flexors and my torso’s sides gradually give way.  I peer to see Kate following in this …she is unaware that I could continue this exact movement for another hour.  I don’t.

I lay back, cueing Kate that we are entering the spinal twisting sequence.  OMG but I haven’t done this in forever.  I need this desperately.  I feel the largeness and impatient quickness of my movements.  I breathe more deeply and feel the movements slow and become smaller.  I am lying on my left side, right hand tucked near my chin, my right leg carelessly draped over my extended left leg, I feel contained.  As the second set of spirals reaches the base of my skull my eyes roll back into my head.  I’d forgotten the near-ecstasy of feeling this movement as it rolls around the top of my spine, releasing things of which I have no conscious awareness.

We have not set a time for this exercise.  I look over and see that Kate has moved to her back.  In some attempt to stay ‘almost’ in time with her, I move to my back as well.  I do not feel as contained in this position.  My stomach is exposed.  The hiss in the speakers increases and I wonder if Kate can hear it.  I know now if I run the music from my side again, I will use my iPod to run the sound and use the big speakers in the room (speakers that are not attached to the computer or the microphone.)  I vaguely think over the ‘manual’ we will write as we invite other Dancemed’ers into our practice…. remember to set the computer and all programs required to engage in the activity so that they do not “go to sleep/hibernate” in the middle of practice.  Use external sound source (apart from the computer.)  This mental check list runs through my head with a vague awareness of having skipped a vertebrae going up while lying on my right side.  I go back to the base of my spine and try going up again… skipped the vertebrae, again.  What is there?  My brain is only partially here.  I think I should have called Ellen about the movie before I started practice… it’s okay.  I wonder if I’m waking Shelly with the sound… whatever, he’s usually 100 times louder than I am, he can miss some sleep.  I find myself still on the sticky vertebrae… in my lumbar, only two down from the thoracic, what is there?  I roll the spiral around and around just that area and finally wind further up my spine, luxuriating again when I reach the base of my skull.

I vaguely notice the static is gone… sweet….  Then I hear a strange beeping and realise Kate’s gone off-line and is calling back.  I stop the music, answer… ultimately okay with the situation, but a bit stunted.

We talk about the remainder of the practice.  Kate suggests free movement and chanting.  I look at the time and try to shrug it off.  I’m too bound by the clock, I just want my process to unfold in its own time.  I confirm with Kate the free movement and chanting… we decide on free movement for a bit and then lying still to process for a bit.  A bit… I wonder about the length of ‘a bit.’  Free movement feels enjoyable, rolling on the floor, spreading wide, opening, extending, something feels so compressed/compressing lately.  The world?  Weighing down on me?  Stress? Contracting my muscles, making my breath shorter, I feel my arms swing away from my sides and reach out, through my finger tips reaching, grasping, shaking off the confinement.  My body feels that it wants to do things I know it cannot handle, I keep myself in check… we move with elasticity from our center and pull back into ourself.  It feels amazing not to have someone following me in my movement, not having to be aware that someone is following and keep my movements follow-able (I feel this is my hesitation about teaching lately… I feel the weight of teaching.)  Somehow I begin to recognize I have not had enough personal practice, because I am feeling rejuvenated, despite exhaustion.  I look to see Kate seated still.  I follow and we both lie down – to process.  “Susurro” has been the music of the morning…mostly.  It continues and drags my brain into soft, light, lacey places.  I do not think, I just feel my body, things settling, shifting, a lump under my right shoulder letting go…I begin to feel weightless and remember why I love this practice.

I bring my awareness to Kate and find that we are looking for one another.  I move to the camera and we smile.  This feels good.  This feels right… so right I know we will continue with the project and probably grow it, expand it.

We discuss briefly what to chant.  I am in favor of “Ya Hadi” (I always am… I think it is my default.)  Kate confirms the front to back motion, but only after we begin chanting to I realise we didn’t discuss inward or vocal chanting.  It’s too late… I’m being vocal enough for both of us.  Then I hear her, but just the last clipped syllable ‘di.’  I think about the annoying lag time in our over-seas/over internet communication and attempt to let it drop.  I think that I am supposed to hear her and her me in our chanting… I am only slightly frustrated when I feel my shoulders drop.  The muscles along my neck and down into my shoulders release.  A wave of energy floods my body from the top of my spine all the way down and across my body.  This is strange.  Usually I feel energy moving upward.  I feel the chanting coming to an end.  We are both quiet.  I feel amazing.