I just returned from a … lesson/session with Shahar’s group at Maagan Michael. I participate in these lessons as … ahum … a dancer and not as a photographer (so far!).
The lesson started out comforting as it usually does then I seemed to fade away from it, and I was on the sidelines. I sat down on the floor. I was then captivated with one of the participants – her movements seemed to weave an invisible fabric in the space. After some time my vision seemed to turn inward and I began to play around – staring into the space, looking at nothing and letting my attention get drawn to people in my field of view. I kept gravitating back to her. I was then drawn to walk through the space to view her from different perspectives. At one position in the room I felt as if we were actually communicating small choices I seemed to make seemed to echo in dance.
At one point I found myself in a dark corner, eyes closed and my body seemed to build some kind of inner strength and integrity. It grew and grew and then collapsed – after which there seemed to be a new gentle versatility to it. I played for a few minutes with light motion. That part of the session then ended.
After a short break Shahar split us into groups of 3. We were then invited, each group, to select an area in the room where we would work, two viewing one dancing. I was familiar with this kind of work with Shahar though I had never taken part in it. At first there was a bit of tension. I was quickly able to set it aside by realizing that I had a freedom of choice of how far to go and that the others would understand and respect any choice I made. The first person in the group began his piece, he was followed by the second person who picked up an element from his work and continued her own.
As her part came to an end, I realized that I was not backing out. I connected to her work and continued something of my own. I remember that the beginning was very physical and that shortly I was left alone in the space my knees were so tired that they seemed to collapse under me and that became the physical drive of my dance (“my dance” is such a strange and still discomforting concept for me) I don’t remember much else. I remember reaching an end and being completely out of breath. I had to drop to the floor and lie down. My body was racing my heart was racing and I felt a nausea coming on. It wasn’t going away. So I got up and walked assertively to the bathroom where I vomited like I haven’t done in a long time.
When I got home I sat in the car and I was embraced by silence like I never have before. I could clearly hear the silence – it is beautiful.