Ephemeral Movement

Tag: dance

  • Fantasy

    Fantasy

    Today, I climb a small step ladder to gather chokecherry, pulling branches towards myself, pulling myself up onto the fence to get even higher to the fruit nearly out of reach. I finger the stems to release the ripe berries into the stainless steel bowl my toddler was wearing as a hat not an hour before. I repeat beneath the elder bush, looking skyward in the hot sunlight of the early afternoon.

    I duck beneath the black walnut tree and pick from the ground, green orbs, checking for rot, walking in circles as more allow me to see them in the verdant grass. A game of I Spy. I sit on the front stoop, said toddler with a home-made popsicle, and breaking the outer husk against the concrete I’m staining my hands with the floral and resinous flesh of its insides. “It smells so good”, and the little one leans in with his nose, “smell good”, pine, citrus, and floral notes spinning around our faces.

    I’ve been reading these delicious and hooking fantasy books and it leaves me, not craving for a fairy lover (though hello and thank you mirror neurons) or to live in a different world, but to live more fully in my body in this world. I stretch my body out on a quilt in the backyard and when I can no longer move because my toddler has deemed the stretching “done”, I sit quietly with my eyes closed.

    How do I let myself hold me? How do I carry myself through the day?

    I slowly shift my body until it feels right, alert and relaxed, a natural curve to the spine, a golden thread gently pulling my crown towards the sun. The breeze touches me across my head and shoulders. The sun kisses me just the same. A sweet ache, to just be.

    I dance a lived fantasy this afternoon during toddler nap-time. I spin, step, slide, and soothe an ache through movement. The fantasy books I’ve been reading fuel my lust to fill full. I move with supple limbs that drag through the air around me. I crave my own body in motion.

    A sense of freedom is here in my dancing. I am free to move however I wish and to love every moment. I won’t waste any energy judging this body or the shape that it makes as I glide. I just move to the next incarnation. And the next. And so on until I am down on the floor rolling back and forth feeling my body against the floor, dropping into the earth, letting it hold me.

    I dance love and lust, temptation and desire, though it’s so subtle I don’t think it could be seen. Maybe it could be felt. It’s a glimmering, a glow and flow, until I feel complete.

    Today, I live and dance a fantasy, transforming what fantasy can mean through the alchemy of embodiment.

  • Respite: Little Doorways of Awareness

    Summer heat waves.

    Wildfire smoke.

    Late nights, early mornings.

    The never-ending to-do’s.

    I am tired. I can barely drag myself out of bed in the morning and conjure up a snack for the toddler. It takes all of me to pour a cup of coffee that I can barely even sip.

    I slowly gain speed through the morning, hitting dips of lethargy and then wondrous moments of energy that are notable due to their rarity. Like how I rally to make breakfast or get out the door for an errand or adventure. I feel like a heavy, water-logged and sunken canoe.

    So far, it seems like some of the most nourishing moments are those spent at the river. We pack snacks and gear up in the cart and find a nice spot with a sandy beach and plenty of rocks to toss. I dunk myself into the cold waters and the little one wades and keeps testing how close he can throw the biggest rocks.

    When I dunk myself in the water, it wakes me up and clears away the stagnant energy. It makes me feel supple and young again. I feel connected to source, a timeless giving energy. When I dunk myself, I ask the river to take away my worries, my illness, my fatigue. I feel embraced by the river banks, the grasses and willows and sand and wind.

    Being in nature, the more untouched and wild bits, is rejuvenating. It resets something in my brain and soul. Even though I’m still tired, I don’t feel as heavy. I feel purified.

    And of course, the river is great because it’s a perfect playmate. It tuckers the little one out for nap time. And then I can escape to the basement and find my way to embodied play and exploration. I often only dance for 10-20 minutes, the latter being more rare and exceptional.

    Lately, my body pulls me downward and I’m trying to dance the dance of air, of levity, of wakefulness. Grace feels far from me as I lumber and heave myself through space seeking respite from gravity. This postpartum mom bod is heavy. I love her, me, that is. I do by best to take care of myself through remembering to eat or trying to do vigorous dance videos or yoga flows on youtube in the living room.

    But, the play and practice in the basement brings me somewhere the youtube exercise videos cannot. It brings me into the wild nature of my own animal body and allows me the spaciousness to practice letting it be how it pleases. Like a cat that stretches and plays when the time feels right, I expand and contract exploring movement that fills the corners and crevices of my being.

    How often do we leave whole zones of our body out-of-touch? How tender it is to notice and fill the space with presence. I lend these places my compassion, my witnessing. “I see you, let me hold you close”.

    Sometimes, this dance feels like taking myself by the hand and unconditionally loving all the little bits of myself. The invisible, the uncomfortable, the ashamed, the tender places of fresh growth.

    These little moments, at the river, in the basement, on walks to the park, sitting out front eating homemade popsicles: life-giving. I aim for them, seek them out, magnetize my awareness to the fleeting glimmers. Each one an opportunity to arrive anew.

  • Pivot

    Doing new things is hard.

    It’s grand. It can be spectacular when you hit a stride, when you feel like you’re manifesting into reality a vision that is bursting to be realized. And of course, that kind of magic takes work to achieve. It takes resources, connection, community, vision, endurance.

    False starts. Bumps and turns in the road. These are inevitable. If you pack anything into your survival kit, pack TRUST.

    Trust the process to reveal the result. Trust that the outcome should be as it is. Trust that all the pieces make the whole complete. Trust the lessons to teach you ways to improve. Trust the players and the stage in which your sweet theatre of life unfolds. And trust that you can pivot when the occasion calls for it.

    Which means, ultimately, to listen.

    I’m in a listening pivot. I’ve envisioned and offered up a 10 week course of Ephemeral Movement and it’s unlikely going to play out like I originally planned. The 10 week model was going to allow a depth of practice, a more detailed epistemology, a structured container, and the power of group support that the drop-in style couldn’t quite provide.

    We are just a week out from the first class and it’s going to be cancelled unless more people sign up. (If you have been planning to sign-up, the time is now to keep the course alive).

    If it doesn’t fly, I won’t let it injure my pride. Not in Leo season.

    And so, I listen.

    And I hear, it’s too big of a commitment. For something that’s unconventional and difficult to pin into understanding without trying on, I get it. For 10 weeks in this current cultural landscape? I get it. For something outdoors, rain or shine, and in public? I get it. It’s a lot for a new thing. I completely understand!

    And so, I am planning on offering a weekly, drop-in style class. However, I am considering making it an indoor class to offer a conventional space for exploration.

    I’m curious, what would you be more comfortable with: class outdoors in a park OR indoors in a movement space.

    Details for the time and location are in the works as I get more of a gage on where comfort and interest overlap, so keep this in your peripheral to pick-up again when the time is nigh.

    I trust that this practice I offer is going to be meaningful for other bodies, just as it has been for me. I trust that the people who need it, will find it.

    Together, we can play, recover, and discover in the upcoming weeks.

    And so, we pivot.

  • Dream Retrieval

    Today’s movement spun last nights dream into memory.

    I used to keep a dream journal and court my dreams into lucidity. I’d have long, magical dreams that would linger into the day and make me feel connected to the liminal spaces of manifestation and medicine.

    I’d also have stressful dreams that taught me of my fears and past traumas. All in all, I’ve had an impactful relationship with my nighttime consciousness.

    I don’t remember my dreams much anymore, what with having a baby and all the scattered sleep and before-I’d-like risings. I wake and am in mom mode. I wake and drop sleep for hugging my little one close.

    What once was a delightful partnership with dreams is now a required recharge. I’m not complaining. I still have a love affair with sleep, it just looks different for now.

    More recently, I’ve been able to grasp a glimpse or two of what transpired the night before. As soon as I go vertical it tends to all drop away like vapor flowing out from dry ice onto the ground.

    Last night particularly, I had some clear images that hung over my pillow while a slow-rousing was possible. I woke with at least three moments of embodied images and then was only able to remember one, the last.

    That is until I did my movement practice this afternoon.

    Spinning.

    I was spinning in my dream like a whirling dervish.

    One hand extended up towards the heavens, the other towards the ground, like the magician in tarot. My feet stepping, arch outwards, matching heel-to-toe forming a tight square beneath me.

    I was becoming weightless and lifting off the ground until I had to use my hand as the pivot point on the ceiling above me and it started to feel like gravity had disappeared.

    I remember a sense of power in self and spiritual connectivity and also a bit of fear and loss of control.

    Today, when my movements had me turning, I suddenly remembered those feelings and embodied a confident spin until I felt firmly grounded, graceful, and elevated. I didn’t whirl like a Sufi today, but I found my own turning.

    I took that sense of lack of control on the ceiling in my dream and alchemized it into lightweight and embodied twirls. It felt right to consciously turn with that collected sense of connectivity.

    And something shifted in me, a picture coming into focus, an embodied wisdom, a generosity of acknowledgement to the abundance around me.

    I’ve been thankful for the many blessings, the literal dream I am living. But, maybe you can relate, it can feel disembodied a lot of the times. Probably because of exhaustion or endless task lists or feeling “on” all the time.

    So, I wrote a goals list for the rest of 2024. Then I walked away. I revisited it later in the day and realized that more than half of the list was already happening. In process, in progress. That’s a success!

    Plenty of work to do ahead, yes. It never ceases.

    To take a breath and break in the moment to acknowledge I’m on track, if even in the smallest ways is a win.

    And, to connect beyond, through play… it’s necessary. This dance, it’s play for me as much as it’s also a contemplative embodiment practice.

    It’s all a practice until it becomes effortless. Then, the meaning behind the word “practice” shifts. There will be moments of ease, of connection, of frustration, of all things. And we keep coming back to what ever it is that makes us feel alive, grounded, and authentic. Maybe even playful.

    Wishing you patience, compassion, and resilience for the work that makes you glimmer.

  • Eco-Somatic Movement Lab

    This August I’ll be offering a 10-week Eco-Somatic Movement Lab based on the principles of Ephemeral Movement. This will be the first time I’ve ever offered a comprehensive experience of the epistemology of my work. Each week we will be covering a different core theme of Ephemeral Movement.

    Classes will be facilitated in a group container with guided meditations, exploratory somatic movement, and creative expressive practices to process the work. No experience is necessary to join. The aim is for each participant to walk away with not only a deeper sense of self, place, and inter-relational growth but practices and experience to keep exploring.

    Classes will be hosted outdoors in a local Fort Collins park with access via the bike trails or by car and sidewalk. It’s suggested to be prepared for outdoor work with sunscreen, water, comfortable clothes, a meditation cushion or pillow and/or blanket, a lawn chair if needed, or whatever will make the space most accessible for you.

    For more details and to register, toggle over to my Offerings page. Please, reach out with any questions.

    I look forward to practicing with you!

  • Rooting into Rest

    The current astrology (eclipse season) has been telling me (and maybe, you, too?) to rest. It’s been advising me to clear out the excess in my schedule and prepare for unexpected delays. No one would have to try very hard to convince me to take it easy. I DO know I need a lot of rest. I have worked very hard at resting more because I have come to understand my own flow of action and stillness more thoroughly. When I am in “go” mode, I can accomplish in a few hours what would take other people days. Not to say I’m the fastest in the west or anything, though who knows, maybe I am. I am, at least, sometimes the most precise-in-action in the room. And if nothing else, I can have some really fantastic bursts of creative and motivated prowess. As for the current astrological sky, I know this important rest has to do with some new offerings in the works for Ephemeral Movement (among some other channels). I’ve got a very serious creative and logistical mountain to climb and it’s one step at a time. For now, this time is for dreaming it up, laying it out, and laying myself out to go as slow as I possibly can before I take to the proverbial trails and ascend this new, uncharted territory.

    This space I’m cultivating for rest will see not only my projects, but my overall health and wellbeing through to the other side. With that, my creativity is protected so that it is able to flourish. I speak of creativity as an essential need in my life, and ultimately in yours, because it is what drives humanity to connect with the world around us. And it brings a special something to our souls. A common and untrue sentence that devalues our self-worth is, “I’m not creative”. I’ve heard plenty of people say this throughout my life. This is NEVER true. We are all innately creative. Skill-craft, dance, song, storytelling, art were all culturally entangled into the daily lives of humans before the industrial revolution. What differs is where and how we focus our creative energy. What differs is how much we have cultivated our creative skills. Problem-solving is one of the most basic creative actions, and all of us, every day, in all of our different skills have to use problem-solving to get through our work, our passions, our meals. Take creativity beyond it’s daily necessity for survival and we enter the realm of creative expression. This is the realm of open possibility. One thing holding us back is a mind closed to change, to transition, to the natural unfolding of discovery. Another thing in the way is all the do-ing.

    Why, then, can rest be suggested as a doorway to creative expression? We need to slow down and reduce stimuli to get to an integrated place where we are experiencing our mediums fluidly. In our modern culture we experience nearly constant stimuli and stressors. Having a pocket device that is an alarm clock, a planner, a computer, a camera, a phone, a game system, our social exchange, and more, means we never truly turn off. Most people I’m around have their phone ringer on at all times, and many have app notifications set to alert them as well. My husband has reminder sounds–so I have to hear that he’s gotten a text twice, if not more times, when his phone, watch, and iPad are all in the same room. Personally, that would drive me insane (and, for the record, it does). My phone is mainly (not all) just that: a phone. I have my ringer off and only accept notifications from an astro app I enjoy the mindful reminders from. But even I struggle with picking up my phone and mindlessly checking my email or social media. Supposedly, the average American spends 4.5 hours on their phone a day (I heard teenagers spend upwards of 7 hours a day).

    FOUR AND A HALF HOURS. That’s 2 movies. That’s a seminar. That’s probably meal-planning and making those meals for a week. That’s how many chapters in a good book? That’s how many hours of your vitality doing what? That’s definitely an entire sewing project making a pair of pants. Just imagine what you could accomplish if you saved up all that time for something that puts your creative brain into flow state? It’s an amazing amount of time. What if that was just four and a half hours of rest throughout the day; 5 minutes to spritz the face and do some light facial care in the morning to wake up, 10 minutes of watching the light change out the window while you drink your coffee, 20 minutes of lazy journaling, 20 minutes for an afternoon nap, 45 minutes reading a book after lunch, 20 minutes of doodling and daydreaming, 10 minutes sipping a cup of herbal tea, 30 minutes of stretching and 30 minutes of exercise, 30 minutes for a dreamy phone-call with a good friend, and 20 minutes to listen to some of your favorite music while you lay on your back in the living room. That’s 4 hours. That is a speed of life that I know so many desire. How do we get it?

    Can we really just reach out and touch a slower life if we put down our phones and stop scrolling? But, and how? When we get such an immediate dopamine high from a device and we feel we don’t have a lot of time, it’s the easiest fix. When there is always a project, chores, work, or someone vying for our attention, how do we say, “no, thank you, not today”? And if you’re a people-pleaser, this is probably exceptionally hard for you. Can we compartmentalize our people-pleasing? Maybe if we acknowledge we aren’t very pleasurable when we are feeling foul from being exhausted or we’d rather be doing something else.

    It’s simple to suggest that it would be easy to take that time we spend on our phones or completing some fantasy-of-importance task and turn it into rest. It’s an interesting experiment to attempt. I’ve read over 6 books in the last few months because I’ve been trying this out (reading is typically my right before bed practice and was replacing TV time). That’s a record for me in the last handful of years. Of course, there are seasons in life. What season are you in? Are you ready to embody a more creative life? I wonder how rest would help you do so?

    The month of April is about going slow to gather energy for the next big, life-changing to-do’s of the year. Empty the calendar where possible. Take a little off the plate. If you’re joining in this practice my only advice is to breathe into your roots and root into your resting. Whatever that means to you.

    The following is a practice to try.

    Root into Rest Practice:
    Find a comfortable position, seated or laying down and take deep, relaxed breaths until you are naturally breathing comfortably on your own. Locate and elongate your spine. Envision there is a golden thread rooting downward through your pelvis into the earth and the other end is lightly lifting you up towards the sky, the top of your head floating effortlessly. Allow your tongue to sit relaxed at the top of your mouth, release any tension in your jaw and eyes. Breathe into this space you’ve created in your body. Imagine a golden, glowing light throughout and radiating outward. Each inhale you bring up through the earth and each exhale more golden glitter puffs out around you, dancing in the air like dust particles in the sunlight. Breathe like this until you and the space around you is well-dusted and immersed in the golden, glowing, glitter and you are comfortably rooted to this restful place on the earth. Be here as long as you like. When you feel done, take a few breaths to return to a more active body and witness the space you are in. Look around at it, releasing your head and body back to a pedestrian state. Maybe some toe wiggles, shoulder rolls, head tilts. When you’re ready, you can get up and go about your day taking this restful moment with you.