still waters

A few nights ago I entered my movement space for some night time practice. The cold of the day had pierced its way into my bones and the space, unheated, greets me with a chill embrace. Turning up the heating, I layer up on clothing and lay myself next to the radiator with the desire to rest and warm up before any other activity can take place.

A delicate journey through imagery, passing thoughts and dream-like associations begins, and leads me to encounter a quality of timelessness. The entire physicality infused with this quality, I open my eyes and instead of looking into my rehearsal space, I find myself in an empty swimming hall in the very early hours of the day, gazing into the pool filled with water standing still. The walls are of a simple tile structure, the ceiling high, the windows somewhat small, straight ahead of me but quite far from where I stand. There is light streaming in from outside, but I can sense the hall has another, innate source of light that fills the entire space with an ethereal, translucent, yet bright and sparkly quality. It seems as if every atomic particle composing the space and everything in it from the air to the walls to the water has within a miniature source of light, radiating.

I recognise myself as a being consisting of many layers and that this is a place where I have come to let all those layers diffuse and indeed rest for a little while. In a land far away I can hear the train of linear time humming its way forward and I know in a short moment I will need to jump on board.

Photo (c) Laurent Hoffmann