This past Tuesday I taught a 90-minute Soul Motion™ class in Berkeley. I'm one of three local Soul Motion teachers-in-training
Zuza asked to hold space during her time away from her weekly class, and the level of anticipation I brought was matched only by the temperature in the dance room--but more about that later.
I invited the group of 20 to join me in the center, introduced myself to the 2 new-to-me practitioners, and spoke briefly about generosity, and how we might use the practice to be open to more possibilities by being generous with our attention. I introduced the soft gaze and the echo as ways to take in and respond to more than just one close-by dancer: I invited dancers to walk evenly and with ease through the room, cultivating a wide and broad view as they passed other dancers. When called, they could walk with another, side by side, next to, around, in many directions and ways of relating physically. "Drop this partner, for now, and walk on your own. And where's your next partner? Can you be with them without looking for them, without looking directly at them, and still be aware of the entire room?"
Reflections: My voice felt strong and clear in this segment. As the group wove through the room, I struggled a little in balancing my suggestions with my attention to what was really happening in the room. I wondered (and still do) if we would have benefited by spending a little time grounding and aligning into the back body in the circle before going into group movement.
As the group weave wound down, I noticed two dancers moving together at one edge of the room, and pointed to the possibilities that the echo might provide. I spoke/named what I saw with as much SM languaging as I could: How the dancers were picking up gestures from one another, using different levels, body parts, etc, offering and responding to one another with the generosity of their attention. "You'll never be bored on the dance floor again!" I quoted Zuza. I asked another dancer to join the two already moving, then brought the music up as I introduced the passage of open movement that followed.
Reflections: I wonder, in this echo demo/instruction, how much I was speaking words I had, in advance, thought might be appropriate, rather than really being with what was
. I wondered if I went on too long with the exercise/demo, how my pacing was, etc. I was really wanting the echoing to go a certain way, and my desire to have a clear expression of this point of view dominated how I spoke of the practice. My agenda! Did dancers really get
what echoing was, and were they willing to try it on for size? Was I patient enough in the uncertainty to see
the answer?
I did my best to allow the passage to unfold, with the intense temperatures inside the room seeming to sometimes dull, sometimes enliven the movement. I saw dancers engaging with one another in duets, mostly close physically to each other, eyes meeting eyes or eyes to the floor: where was the soft gaze, rshti, full room presence I spoke of? As time passed and the music picked up, exhaustion seemed to set in; simultaneously, it seems, and directly proportional to the heaviness I imagined filled the room, I felt anxious, a bit trapped, powerless. Did I think I was supposed to feel power
ful?
In control? Hah! How generous was
I able to be with my
own attention?
Dancers engaged with each other, sometimes forming small circles; others sat on the floor or leaned against a wall. (Witnessing, I hoped to myself; anything but dropping out!) The room asked for structure, and I saw openings/opportunities to risk: split the group to opposite walls, and direct each to move towards the center? Fade the music down to silence, then notice and name and suggest from there? I wish I had had the courage to take these risks and try these structures; I am disappointed in these unclaimed opportunities. At one point towards the end, I did notice a ring of students forming, seated (witnessing, not dropping out!) at the room's periphery, and suggested the option of witnessing in the seated or standing place at the edge, or moving into the center as impulse called. The room seemed to shift just a bit into focus.
It was also impossible
not to notice one practitioner chasing another very young one giggling through the room, out the door into the hall, then back into the dance room. Was this the practice? I wasn't really sure how to respond to this distraction; the most I could do was, towards the end, move slowly around the gigglers, lightly touching the air around them, containing, commenting. What else to do with my anger? Yes, I guess I took this behavior personally: If I'd been holding space with a clearer, more open and loving presence, everyone would have been doing the practice. Yes, yes; I know...
Reflections: Acting upon opportunities to enliven the room proved extremely challenging. I learned, yet again, how risky it feels -- how much I feel out on a limb, on my own to fail or succeed, be effective or humiliated -- to interject. Old inner enemies dusted off their lances, and smiled as they drew blood with a casual, knowing air. I aspire to let go of my expectations, return to viewing all in a field of love and interest, forgive myself for being human, and begin again.
Applause came as the music ended and we gathered together in a closing circle. Interestingly, I again felt strong and clear in seeing all dancers together in the circle, as I had in the beginning. Hmm, I know it's not about how comfortable I feel at any point. And I felt a calmness and a clarity in that closing circle.
