Read, dance.. love..

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ipak je to vishe od pokreta...

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Everything moves

Everything moves. And everything moves to a rhythm. And everything that moves produces a sound; that is happening here and all over the world at this very moment. Our ancestors noticed the same thing when they tried to escape from the cold in their caves: things moved and made noise.

The first human beings perhaps looked on this with awe, and then with devotion: they understood that this was the way that a Superior Being communicated with them. They began to imitate the noises and movements around them, hoping to communicate with this Being: and dancing and music were born.

When we dance, we are free.

To put it better, our spirit can travel through the universe, while our body follows a rhythm that is not part of the routine. In this way, we can laugh at our sufferings large or small, and deliver ourselves to a new experience without any fear. While prayer and meditation take us to the sacred through silence and inner pondering, in dance we celebrate with others a kind of collective trance.

They can write whatever they want about dancing, but it is no use: you have to dance to find out what they are talking about. Dance to the point of exhaustion, like mountain-climbers scaling some sacred peak. Dance until, out of breath, our organism can receive oxygen in a way that it is not used to, and this ends up making us lose our identity, our relation with space and time.

Of course we can dance alone, if that helps us to get over our shyness. But whenever possible, it is better to dance in a group, because one stimulates the other and this ends up creating a magic space where all are connected in the same energy.

To dance, it is not necessary to learn in some school; just let our body teach us – because we have danced since the darkest times, and we never forget that. When I was an adolescent I envied the great “ballerinos” among the kids on the block, and pretended I had other things to do at parties – like having a conversation. But in fact I was terrified of looking ridiculous, and because of that I would not risk a single step. Until one day a girl called Marcia called out to me in front of everybody:

“Come on!”

I said I did not like to dance, but she insisted. Everyone in the group was looking, and because I was in love (love is capable of so many things!), I could refuse no further. I was ridiculous, I did not know how to follow the steps, but Marcia did not stop; she went on dancing as if I were a Rudolf Nureyev.

“Forget the others and pay attention to the bass,” she whispered in my ear. “Try to follow its rhythm.”

At that moment I understood that we do not always have to learn the most important things; they are already part of our nature. In youth, dancing is a fundamental rite of passage: for the very first time we feel a state of grace, a deep ecstasy, even if for the less tuned-in it is all just a bunch of boys and girls enjoying themselves at a party.

When we become (zabranjeno)s, and when we grow old, we need to go on dancing. The rhythm changes, but music is part of life, and dancing is the consequence of letting this rhythm come inside us.

I still dance whenever I can. With dancing, the spiritual world and the real world manage to co-exist without any conflicts. As somebody once said, the classic ballerinas are always on tiptoe because they are at the same time touching the earth and reaching the sky.

[Link mogu videti samo ulogovani korisnici]

Read about dance ... 'coz it's love.

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The Denizens of Awedville


By The Gypsy River

Erik Saulitis

James Sewell Ballet

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"How can we know the dancer from the dance? "
William Butler Yeats
p.s. ja sam kao mala obozhavala da tako maltretiram moju kucu da "pleshemo"...

Dopuna: 02 Mar 2008 16:53



Let's Face the Music and Dance...

Dopuna: 17 Mar 2008 20:29

Citat:A PLACE CALLED THERE

Wearing the night like a trampoline
the birth of the earth under the moon
joining hands with the common theme
and the landlord of the soul
to enter a place called there.
How as I tiptoe through the ruins do I dance
when the gifts I receive are legal, but not tender
and stay in a place called there?
How in the morning breath of the moon
does the eye know to blink?
No one stops who dares to dance
to the rhythm beyond our ears.
Taking on the world with broken swords
drinking out of ruptured gourds
how do I mend the hole
in my pocket of dreams in there?
The clutter speaks a scream
to amplify the thirst upon you
to enter a place called there.
And there you stay covered in clay
the common theme of where
some of the souls dance and sing
and spread it everywhere.
~Mike Welch

[Link mogu videti samo ulogovani korisnici] <-klik

Dopuna: 02 Apr 2008 22:57

Dancing With Myself

"On the floor of Tokyo
Or down in London town to go, go
With the record selection
With the mirror reflection
I'm dancing with myself

When there's no-one else in sight
In the crowded lonely night
Well I wait so long
For my love vibration
And I'm dancing with myself

Oh dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
Well there's nothing to lose
And there's nothing to prove
I'll be dancing with myself

If I looked all over the world
And there's every type of girl
But your empty eyes
Seem to pass me by
Leave me dancing with myself

So let's sink another drink
'Cause it'll give me time to think
If I had the chance
I'd ask the world to dance
And I'll be dancing with myself..."
Nouvelle Vague

"...Come on little stranger
There's only one last dance
Soon the music's over
Let's give it one more chance..."

ok, ok...ishla sam na koncert i sad sam se zaljubila u njihovu muziku

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THE WHITE MAN WHO WANTED TO DANCE
by Sahedran Ann Shelborne

It was a rainy Saturday night, my apartment softly aglow with small incandescent lamps placed all about the room, golden oldies playing on the radio - while I attempted to teach Michael how to dance.
To look at Michael he is Dionysus incarnate: nearly six-feet-tall, a beautifully proportioned body, the definition of his muscles revealed by the soft, sleeveless shirts and form-fitting pants he always wears, his long hair styled, framing his whole head in an electric halo; a black stud earring in one ear; and eyes that are sensitive and reflective, like deep pools of water. A recovering alcoholic, he has been to the blade's edge of death and his face is old with suffering beyond his years, giving a depth to his beauty. The amber brown eyes are sensual and quietly beckoning - his whole presence emanating an intensely erotic male power.

I moved slowly next to him in the soft light of the room, my eyes downcast, listening, feeling for the rhythm of the music. Then I looked into Michael's face. I have never seen such terror in the eyes of an (zabranjeno). Completely against his will, he swayed a little opposite me, but his face reflected pure fear - like a deer frozen as it looks into oncoming headlights. The realization came over me in that moment that though he has taken on the outer appearance of a Dionysian male wildness and potency it does not yet truly emanate from within him. He is a prisoner of his thoughts and his social mask, unable to express his heart and soul through his body.
Aware of his own paralysis, he looked into my eyes and said softly, "You have the ultimate challenge in teaching this White Boy to dance."
.....