breathe. again, please.

The only part of studio work that I miss, this moment now, is the breathing. Any number of us, lying around the room, breathing, eyes closed, giving over to the breath. Doing nothing but breathing. Not working hard to meditate, not trying to be anything, other than a room full of people breathing. Breathing alone is so different, there isn’t that deep sense of importance and connection that occurs when a significant group of people are breathing with themselves with others.

Such a space in a room, the blur of energy and life slowing and widened. It becomes as if even our bones are full of air.

I don’t want to back into the studio to create, to produce something, I want to go and find a quietness with others that I can’t find on my own since my silences are different, and become a new, brightly skewered thing in presence. The grace and importance of one simple gesture repeated, focused on, becoming nothing more than what it is, yet infinitely becoming more than what it is.I want that level of focus, that point of respect for the body, in its space, in its time, coming down to the point of truly listening to the mumbling and burbling thoughts that sprint through veins and push them selves skyward through skin.

There is also the sanctity of a studio space, of a space reserve for time out of time, other realities and could bes. I just want my arms to be arms again, recognized as such, as much as they could be. No more distance from my body because I can’t be bothered to breathe and fall into the motions.

I do miss being in creative spaces with other creative people, in the stages of pre-creating, or rather, within the stages of self-reflection, of aware and unaware kinaesthetic awareness. The point at which kinaesthetic awareness truly becomes about responding to the energy, to the movements, to the lifeblood of all the other people in the room, being in a momentous and complete relationship with someone you wouldn’t otherwise have any words to share with, just by breathing and listening with your body. And responding. Accepting and responding. I miss that.

I don’t miss the pressure to be creative, to have creatively driven away from me by the rules of learning, by the rules of the theatre, by other people’s rules cry out so loud that I couldn’t determine my own rules anymore.

But I such miss the company. That underlying thread of connection that webs through the room, unnoticed but a part of everything. That is what I miss. The depts. Of connection that occur in exploratory creative times and moments. Not the creating of things. What we make ourselves, of ourselves is what is beautiful.