Well folks, it has happened…and it only took eight days, I am plum out of things to write about. Okay, that is not in the least bit true. It is just that today I am fresh out of ideas. I have plenty of half started writings, but part of my commitment to posting everyday was to actually write everyday. Simply reading through, editing, and adding a few things to something I wrote a while back does not count. So here I am in a pickle. What do I tell you today? Perhaps the problem is that I really want to be choreographing, my creative juices want to move and not write at the moment.
I have no stories to tell you through words today. I have stories to tell through my movements. I found myself drawn to skimming through Bill T. Jones’s book Last Night on Earth this evening. I adore his choreography. I was struck by a passage I have underlines many time before: “In it’s beginnings, dance was something that we, as a community, enjoyed. It was a way we told our stories. It was a way we expressed what we wanted and what we feared. It is still a ritual, a system of signs and gestures, but we have separated those who dance from those who watch the dance.” Before the internet and cell phones and planes that allowed us to cover great distances and connect without a second thought we lived in communities, and we shared our stories with one another. We shared our stories through dance and music and art. We let our hearts and souls do the talking. And tonight I travel back to a time before blogging and the internet. I travel to a place my heart wants to go. I allow my body to do the translating, the storytelling. Tonight I dance and leave the words for another day.