Saturday, 5 November 2016

October 30th Halloween

Clare's notes

Radical responding
Respond to everything outside the self and body
Try and have the body disappear
Only respond ( Only connect E M Forster)
to outward elements
What does the air, earth, water around you inspire
What do the trees, sky, road, sound, weather, shapes, animals, insects, grass, leaves, stones, colours sing to you
What music do they all speak to you
all senses( see, hear, touch, smell, taste) but in response
Examine that music, that unworried form
How do all theses things ’sing’ (back) to you

William Blake’s  Seeing angels in all the trees, visions

In place/meadow respond to other dancer, see them as of the place, respond to that
in poems of movement, music of movement

Put your thoughts into the natural world, see what it thinks

Quotes
Martha Graham via Zadie Smith’s new book about writing and dancing
There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. it is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. MG

The Wind
It’s like the light, -
A fashionless delight
It’s like the bee, -
A dateless melody.

It’s like the woods,
Private like the breeze,
Phraseless, yet it stirs
The proudest trees.
Emily Dickinson

Basho: Go to the pine if you want to learn about the pine, or to the bamboo if you want to learn about the bamboo. And in doing so, you must leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. otherwise you impose yourself on the object and do not learn. Your poetry issues of its own accord when you and the object have become one - when you have plunged deep enough into the object to see something like a hidden glimmering there.

Friday, 23 September 2016

18 September 2016 Skin

Sophia's Photos


 The skin of the trees show its medicine.
The strong muscular bark of Hornbeam is for stress, to relax.
The flaking skin of the Silver birch is for skin conditions as exma .
The rough wrinkly look of the skin of the Oaktree is for toning and is highly astringent.



Restriction
Sensation
Touch 














Texture protection




Smooth, rough, spiky, fleshy, soft, hard,shiny, vibrant, dull, fresh and dry skin textures













Looking in through the layers














Our skin provides a nourishing home to a 1000 species of bacteria 

Researchers say that "hairy, moist underarms lie a short distance from smooth dry forearms, but these two niches are as ecologically dissimilar as rainforests are to deserts."










Wednesday, 13 January 2016

13th December 2015

Bee's words and photos

Ivy

Bushy, transforming bare tree into giant prowling armadillo
Woody arteries rivuletting up and round tree trunks








Monday, 19 October 2015

18th October 2015

Clare's words

damp dew on leaf reaches my hand
I take moisture from you 
leaf, with your eye looking at water from the bridge

finger -touch rain on
each leaf, bramble, rose, bracken, beech
moisture, like source, like that

oh tall fizzled oak I watch your brown leaf fall and come to ground and bring it as one more

deer races silently across our path, intake of breath
messenger guide
soundless joy touched by light
we animal to earth under us and breathe the same air and moment
swift beauty
 I saw the deer slide by and be with us  a mutual reckoning and acceptance
I lie down where deer crossed to be in the air of its feet sliding though, sharing


a de-lived deer carcass goes by red and headless on a quad bike
life and death of a deer
 wildness, a funeral march then after the birth of light
cars go by like strange mourners
now keen, bend with sway as I think of lying in the tear grass, sky tear, tongue tear forehead sea, eyelids wetten
my face is covered in ground tears, my eyes carry my sea out

I lay my hand on soil
a mole’s earth
 it is warm as heated skin 
I sigh with surprise 
I trip on the shape of a horseshoe and feel the horse in my body 

birds, imagine your eyes on me as I sway

flower of purple I take you with gratitude to crown what is missing

a double leaf from the long open crossing of the flower meadow empathy embodied in their mutual hold

I lie on the road to get close to a puddle place my fingers in the cool water watch crows high up in the reflection, place the mud on my clothing, hands earthed now, carrying their skin too

one bindweed lifeless and one pure white a n offering of the present moment

I saw a leaf falling caught by another held in a simple rocking
horsetails now I know they are prehistoric and a tiny dinosaur land rises to my left

when I walk like this I see every bird that crosses my path
and my breath flutters with them 
are they always there and I not able to see them

thank you seeing warriors accompanying me, you comrades 
open all my eyes, sharing this is as simple as a shared instance
or as wide as the world 
open cracking  crosses borders even the borders we don’t share or understand

Bee's Words

the others are rubbing their waterproof clothing and I hear the flapping of birds wing
I rub my own palms and my skin turns to fabric