"find new way to fall",

A few dozen volunteer dancers, non-disabled and disabled, myself included, joined Axis Dance for a site-based performance at Yerba Buena Gardens. We rehearsed for a few weeks in the park on weekday evenings. The summer-scape of downtown San Francisco. Rush hour, trash can drums, church bells, sudden bright gusts of wind, fog beveling the park into quartz and moonstone facets, the bougainvillea along the railings above the falls, rushing up into that fuscia underbrush glow to lean over the railing and undulate in unison. Coppery green, glinting from reflecting pools. But mostly the white noise of the falls. And then, the day of the performance, the droning, whirly-gigging, keening, cuckoo clock set free sounds of Caroline Penwarden and her orchestra. Sonsheree Giles of Axis directed the choreography.

This experience made me happier than anything. Closest I've come to really being able to meditate. And, skim out endlessly on a (tide) line (in a poem) without any words. Almost home, almost the gulf, being beside the waterfall and with others. Aquatic, hot, breathing under other elements. (Not making it to Florida this summer--but enclosed a little prayer for the waters in this doing, over and over again.)

Missing photo: Poor balance, side-blindness--don't get caught in the middle of recess, stick close to the walls when changing classes. Make quick choices? Mirror others? Find your own stillness? It works if the limits become pivots. It's go in the horizontal now, wordless new lines.

Missing photo: How the face and the falls intersect, after rushing blood with horizontal poppy phrase. Enter this spacious room, quietly, with everyone else. Rotate slowly, slowly.
Missing photo: Braid the distance, make contact, drop across and together.

Missing photo: Collect yourself, carry, over into, timing, guided by, collecting little movements.

Missing photo: Sun dial, wind mill--a kind of chlorophyll.
Missing photo: Wave. Wave! Follow my finger, a gull arcing. It's further than I. Can go!
Missing photo: stealth sleeps, a dreaming in pods,
Missing photo: Bodies rise and fall in waves, cling and seperate, let go of deciding when to go, volition reduced to wisp, fly-away and flap.
Missing photo: When synchronized swimmers dream, there are stragglers, gentle flash mobs, one day during rehearsal--overtaking an old Asian lady in a red coat, we folded her in and breathed like whales.
Missing photo after next to the last collapse: us all hanging in softly active seagull.
Missing photo: the instant in which we stopped growing and got sucked backward. Tried to photosynthesize each brilliant, empty leaning and twirling, reaching and pulling.