Feb 3
Imagine eating and eating and never digesting. Imagine being full, packed to the gills and never being able to assimilate, starving for nutrition, wallowing in gluttony run amok. Now imagine that this is not about food but about body taking in information and never having a chance to integrate this information. This not so hard to imagine because it is how we live. Read more
She’s sexy. Glossy black and gold cupping the curling, zaftig peel. Almost lascivious. Goes with this music.* (My taste in cake.)
“…ecstasy, poetry, chemistry…
there ain’t no stoppin’ her…supernatural…it’s physical… Read more
Practice: Shafi Chant (To Cure, to Heal)
Lie on your back on a comfortable mat, knees bent, feet flat on the floor. You can rest your arms alongside you or rest your hands on your belly. Close your eyes. Be at ease. Connect your attention to your breathing. As you breathe, let your bones, your muscles, your organs, your fluids sink more and more heavily into gravity. Let you skin become tender. Let your skin breathe. Read more
Shafi means “To Cure, to Heal.” (Click here for a full description of the practice.) Below are two practitioner accounts of working this practice into a busy life.
Dee Powers, ITCert*
I silently chanted Shafi surrounded by white lights & my favorite animal friends. I was very quiet & very still for what seemed a very long time. Even though I could hear my grandson playing loudly in another part of the house, I was able to be in that beautiful & graceful place. Read more
I was interested that in a feeling-sense, this sherpa/burka ‘reference’ was so cozy on a cold cold day. The bundling was needed protection. Looking at the photo later I recall the sensuous colors of the bumpy, fleecy texture being full of warm puffs air. I like the contrast with the smooth shiny eye surface. Read more
My friend Anastasia Kaser, who lives in the Bay Area, sent me this cup as a Christmas gift. She has its match. The salt-washed China cups belonged to her mother so I feel like her sister. Many mornings we sit bicoastally (I am NYC) in our own time, in our own worlds yet connected by our twin cups as we partake of our morning cuppa. Read more
The first Ravenrock project which our December fund drive is making possible will be our barn floor. I’ve been emailing with Dana Bixby, architect and Dancemeditator, and here are a few ideas she sends: Read more
I want [my veil] to unfurl so I toss her but don’t drop her. I let her billow. I wrap a wide arc of space in her skin. Soon she has seduced me into her world. My legs and feet have forgotten their clay and I am in the small sky that inhabits my NYC apartment. Air is always a morsel of sky, yes? Breath is always a morsel of sky.
My dancing meditation or meditative dancing or meditation dance or Dancemeditation treats me like a bumpy hand-woven sweater. When seeing how well knit I’ve become, it grasps my ego’s thread end and tugs. I unravel into a thin wiggly strand, drape over the world’s edge then drop to a quiet little nowhere. Read more
I have difficulty finding a kind way of being disciplined. For many recent years in my Dancemeditation work, I’ve been adjusting harsh, punitive disciplinarian-ness of my professional dance years. I seek strength and clarity which require the cultivation of will, but that will mustn’t be a willfulness reeking of domination (which, oddly, might be a form of greed, yes? Want. want, want, my way, my way, my way, etc.)…
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