Contemplative Dance Practice (CDP) writings/images
from Friday online practice since shelter-at-home Spring 2020.
part 1 part 2 part 3
CDP is a meditation and improvisation practice originated by Barbara Dilley that is celebrated far and wide. The sessions offer the possibility of creative reflection. Our weekly online practice culls word, image, poetry, communing.
Bursting our container, we bring some to you.
part 1 below are pieces from the same day of practice July 3, 2020, by Erik Ferguson, Roger Ellis, Lily Kiara,
Andrea Fernandez, Karen Schaffman, Paula Zacharias, lori B. bloustein, Colleen Bartley, Karen Nelson
part 2 from other dates by terrie yaffe, Paula, K.J. Holmes, Kristen Tsiatsios
part 3 from our first meeting March 2020 by Rosemary Carroll
prelude artist Karen Daly, her memoir is Joy Ride, my one legged journey to self acceptance.
prelude: Karen Daly:: April 10, Kalapuya land (Eugene, OR)
part 1: July 3, 2020
Erik Ferguson
Cowlitz land (Portland, OR)
Restless
Is too small a word for now.
Two syllables for 36 days in a 100 year labor with no epidural
and the streets I knew are burning.
Murals bloom like Hope flowers in the place of glass.
Drop kick a journalist your deescalation training is a joke.
I can’t smell the gas from here but I see you through the eye of your livestream.
Battery running low this isn’t CNN.
Exit to the East is blocked west blocked north blocked
and someone spit on my friend for wearing a mask.
But good day. The goats are here in the mullein and I hold the branch of a tree like a hand. Because Love.
Roger Ellis, (they, them) rogerellis.com
Kiikaapoi, Peoria, Miami, Sioux, Potawatomie land (Chicago, IL)
Lily Kiara (Amsterdam, The Netherlands)
Photo: Ab Baars
breathe me to the left and
i will sing you forward
while the wind blows
softly
then suddenly
into a storm
water water
you
me and
the sea
daily
like feet resting here
there somewhere
did i already tell
you that i care
it makes me
move
lifetimes and lifetimes in
the center of my spine
water water
mother mother
the sea
you
me and
fluidity
i will sing you forward
while the wind blows
softly
then suddenly
into a storm
water water
you
me and
the sea
daily
like feet resting here
there somewhere
did i already tell
you that i care
it makes me
move
lifetimes and lifetimes in
the center of my spine
water water
mother mother
the sea
you
me and
fluidity
Andrea Fernandez
(Buenos Aires, Argentina)
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Estamos quietxs y sin embargo todo se mueve adentro, afuera y entre. Estamos sentadxs en un círculo, cada unx mirando en una dirección diferente. Estamos juntxs. Entramos en el cuerpo, como un pez en el agua. Pequeños sacudimientos y estiramientos en mi corazón. Entramos en el cuerpo compartido. Movimiento adentro, afuera y entre. Solos, dúos, cuartetos y grupo. Sacudimos nuestros corazones y los estiramos un poquito más. Todo se expande a partir de ahí… |
We are quiet and yet everything moves inside, outside and between. We are sitting in a circle, each looking in a different direction. We are together. We enter the body, like a fish in the water. Little shaking and stretching in my heart. We enter the shared body. Movement inside, outside and between. Solos, duets, quartets and group. We shake our hearts and stretch them out a little more. Everything expands from there... |
(note: the non-standard Spanish spellings, with the letter X,
are gender-free substitutions intended by the author)
Karen Schaffman
Luiseño/Payómkawichum land (San Marcos, CA)
"the game is to stay in the body" kaz nelson
the infinite ways to sit
“shakedown”
ritual
(she, NSS, nancy, changed it to “agitating the mass?”)
why?
the questions in this gap of endless confusion
the gap of change - virus
viruses
gaping holes of trauma
mama
a blown out jade mine - fireworks amping up - the quiet before the storm -
the institutional chaos - the subterranean discipline of touchless distances
2D - 3D - we see the details in all sorts of ways.
surprise - carrots come with green tops
surpriiiiiiise, there is a tree with plums on it
surpr-“eye”-s
me with you
you’re so many perspectives
where are you?
who are you
who are you?
the "what ifs" are endless
i stream all over – dip in dip out distract - contract
roll - roll – roll - green green forest
an invitation to the infinite ways to sit
to pay attention
so much information
to witness.
i love this plant - resuscitated - again and again – it has 5 new leaves and 3
on the way. a big family. pregnant in new ways cause the old ways don’t work.
this computer is not a purse.
dizzy. keep rotating this plant, this planet.
where are you?
kitchen - couch – tree - living room-s - i roll roll roll with you for a moment
green cabinet – green city t-shirt -secret city - green couch - green forest - green plant – green wallpaper - oh - green pearls of malachite
upside down – you turn me
inside out - and round and round
Paula Zacharias
(Buenos Aires, Argentina)
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photo: paula zachariah taken during cdp practice 
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July 3rd
3 de Julio 2020 - Volver a casa , después de toda una larga semana de cambios de estados de ánimo. Olvido cuan importante es mantener la danza viva , Pero lo que más se me revela es cuan es esencial es compartirme con otras Danzas, voces, sensaciones, vos Estaré desarrollando un estado de no sensación , sentimiento Como es llevarlas todas ellas sola ? Mi cuerpo y yo necesitan moverse, desesperadamente Me doy cuenta la tensión de mi cuello y hombro izquierdo . Dios mío qué estoy haciendo? en qué me estaré convirtiendo ? Me muevo, corro, salto y eso sacude las ideas que se forman en mí Me hago y deshago a través del pensamiento . Digo, del movimiento Son acaso ambos un mismo cuerpo? Escucho vuestras voces que también me mueven Creo que sin ellas no sería lo mismo. Para nada Es solo en este momento en que siento una libertad de expresión acompañada, infinita. Todo está permitido y por eso todo vale y tiene valor Mi cuerpo vuelve a mi cuerpo , aquí . Esto es volver a casa de nuevo Esta es de hecho mi propia casa Y estoy en ella con todas ustedes que son parte de mi una y otra vez. ……………………………………………………. July 3rd - Back home, after a long week of mood swings. I forget how important it is to keep the dance alive, But what is most revealed to me is how essential it is to share myself with others Dances, voices, sensations, you I may be developing a state of non-sensation-feeling What's it like to wear them all alone? My body and I need to move, desperately I realize the tension in my neck and left shoulder. My God. What am I doing? What am I becoming? I move, I run, I jump and that shakes the ideas that are formed in me I do and undo myself through thought. I mean, through movement Are they both the same body? I hear your voices that also move me I think it wouldn't be the same without them. Not at all. It is only in this moment that I feel an accompanied, infinite freedom of expression. Everything is allowed and therefore everything is valid and has value My body returns to my body , here.This is coming home again. This is actually my own house. And I'm here with all of you who are part of me over and over again. and here i am with all of you that are me again and again . screen shot by paula zacharias during practice |
lori B bloustein (san francisco, CA)
cdp 7.3.20 Viral Ventriloquism
having already gone 100 places,
the thinking machine in my head continues
to suggest additional destinations other than HERE.
hullo HERE. are you lonely?
the Befores and the Afters clamor, the twin engines of Memory and Planning
roar incessantly, laying out picture after picture, bait for the beleaguered brain
which almost always, like a child who never learns, bites.
while NOW, undemanding in its texture, in its essence and existence –
no, not the NOW of current events: urgent, HOT, laser, OVERDUE, focused, UNCOMFORTABLE, necessary, UNNERVING, rectifying, TERRIFYING, unifying, VIVIFYING
nothing disembodied – no! we share this body electric, this body eclectic
your leg, their foot; his hand, her mouth; mis dedos, tus orejas
eyes watching from each black-boxed solo-tude,
quilting these minutes to make a sum of all our senses.
i imagine smelling you for my pleasure stew.
this wish: we are all suddenly FISH,
a school of limbs, heads along for the ride.
a summer swim, delicious in our synchrony,
in our cacophony, in reflected expressions
of turmoil, of joy, of viral ventriloquism.
you speak me,
i sing you.
you see me,
i hear you.
you heal me,
i feel you.
you laugh me,
i cry you.
privately, secretly, calculating:
what i would give to lay a hand
on your warm flesh...
for now,
i give thanks for
this fortunate box where,
on fridays, if all goes well,
i will find you again…
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Karen Nelson
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