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…
