its always been this way

Mnemosyne….goddess of memory…the mother of the 9 muses of greek origin…is present now…with this breath….the feel of the woollen wove rug beneath the barefoot soul I extend deeper into it…she is present in the aching of my calves, to stretch this way, that way, extending my limbs in shapes known and ancient…arising from the state of ‘being’, of paying attention, of arriving to my practice destination ‘?’, the intention to open and receive and return home being the map to guide me…music chosen today soft, undulating, reflecting my pulse on this strange humid heavy day…and so I follow, I mean jesus what else can I do?!...and so I follow, and as I pursue in languid fascination the movements of my body, I soften into the edges, opening up a little more into a shaded cavern in the crevices of a city slammed body and mind…breath rushes in, light its friend and I expand…god this feels delicious, and after some time purring contentedly into that shape I feel the impulse to shift, to transform and a new path guides me someplace new…

When I come to my practice with the states of ‘innocence’ and ‘inner sense’ my mantra this is what takes shape….some of the shapes my body responds into, following its own memory, are unknown to me, simply the whispered traces of spirit passing through momentarily..and yet some are known, though fascimiles of the yoga asanas, bound to the memory of my muscle, engrained like habits, serving me well this time (hurrah for ‘good’ habits!), seem older than me, older than the yogi(ni)s first flourishing in forest fabled times..these shapes seem to echo those of my ancestors, my ancients, our ancients, linked through our DNA always and forever, renewing and responding with each new life breathed alive into conscious being…

I am reminded as I practice, and it touches me, that I move in the ways of my tribe…my brothers n sisters of the yoga world, those I share space and sometimes a moment of connection with on the dancefloor of my dance practice, my parents, perhaps dancing their first dance of life on their wedding day, or the dance that created me, the dance of my grandparents (apparently my mother’s folks met at a tea dance at manchester’s famous ‘ritz’ nightclub, a venue I have also frequented and stepped my steps on the bouncy dancefloor (yes really)); the dance of my ancestors moving from lands known to new; the dance of my forefathers and mothers in ceremony, in celebration, for the goddamn pure joy of moving their bodies….

we have always moved..its in our nature…did you know that the familiar shouting out of ‘ole’ in the grandly soul filled dance of flamenco stemmed from its origins in Sufi dance..the twirl and ecstasy of the dancer so provoked the appearance within themselves of ‘god’ that folk would shout out ‘allah’ in recognition and honour of that literally awesome moment…

And so, as my body allows, perhaps for the briefest of moments, a chance to ‘be’ without my head in the control room, my body breath and heart sing spirits unique song through me, linking me with all of life itself…this is why I practice, this is what awakens and wakes me up…my grateful heart rests in wonder as these words roll out to greet you…