For Betty Jane - 11/7/09
What's in a smile?
No words needed
When a curve of her lips sent love across a room.
No words coming
When a twinkle in her eye joined the turned up corners of her mouth.
No words rising
When a hug joined our two smiles
Sending out sweet energy from close bodies.
No words
In the moving meditation of the dance that followed.
No words
It was all there in her smile.
Thank you, Betty Jane.
I hold your smile in my heart, and the dance continues.
With love,
Caroline (Hanna)
posted november 14th by caroline hanna |
Body electric
Body is the portal. This phrase echoed in my mind for a long time
before i found 5Rhythms. But I knew not its resonance. Then a trip to
san francisco, drinks with an old friend and the awareness of these
ecstatic movement principles. As he told me of his 8-year commitment
to this practice, all the thoughts, all the forces, all the angels
and hands that guide me in my life screamed and jumped and shouted
inside me and around me and through me as they never have
before....YES YES YES YES!!! DO IT NOW!!!! So clear and strong was
this urging that upon my return did I seek and quickly find your
blessed bunch, your open arms, your room to move, your willing
hearts. I've been coming for the last few months. My shell is slowly
cracking. I open more each week. Peeking out a little more each time.
It is water to my thirst now, oxygen to my lungs, in other
words...essential. This space that you foster is such a gift. And I
am so grateful to be able to receive it. Now I can know, that body IS
the portal, and that as I move my body, or rather, as my body moves
me, I am carried closer to the source, where I melt, where I
dissolve, where I merge with the ONE love.
eternally grateful and yours,
steve |
A PIECE OF SOUL @ ESALEN DANCE RETREAT (3/2007)
GRACE
I want to speak about GRACE and how dancing enabled this GRACE.
31 years ago my father died. He was 59. I will be 59 this year. I was a
junkie then, a morphine addict. We were not speaking . As he lay dying, I
would go thru his pockets, looking for money, money to cop my morphine. He
watched me but could not or would not speak. He lay there silently. I
stole his pain medication too. I told myself it was OK. He refused to
use it. I visited him in the hospital every day. My connection was just
blocks away. Several days before the end, my mother came to me and told me
I should go to my father and tell him that I loved him. This would be my
last chance. I refused. He died. My father was a man who had fought for
the civil rights of American blacks in the 1940s, but he refused to accept
his gay son. He ridiculed me. He made disparaging comments about me. How
could this soft, gentle, caring man be so cruel to me? I was so very angry
at him. I have carried this burden for 31 years.
About 5 months ago, I began dancing on Sundays with Anneli, Michael and Jo.
My mother is 90 today. She has stopped eating and speaking. She lies in a
bed in New York City, with a tube that goes directly into her stomach - to
feed her. She is somewhere between sleep and death, closer to death. The
only sound in that room is the click and whir of the feeding machine and my
mother’s labored breathing, sometimes a moan. I live in California. In late
January, an unexpected business trip took me to New Jersey. I had no
intention of stopping to see my mother. What for? She wouldn’t know I was
there. And the core reason, a very old and very deep injury. A hurt I had
never allowed to heal. One that I could not forgive. When I was very
young she told me a # of times, in anger, that I was a “mistake”, an
“accident” and the wrong sex. My mother had wanted a daughter, not a 2nd
son. I do not believe she really wanted a 2nd child. “If I had known I
was going to have a 2nd son, instead of the daughter I wanted, I wouldn’t
have had you.” My hurt and rage around this issue has been incalculable.
It almost killed me, driving me to stick needles into my arms. I thought
about Sundays and the dance. I thought about the courage it took for me to
dance freely, expressively in a room full of people. I thought, if I can do
this, I can see my mother. I went to see my mother. We were alone. I bent
low and spoke into her ear. I held her hand and stroked her hair. I told my
mother I loved her and I knew she loved me. I told my mother that I
forgave her and I knew that she forgave me. I told
my mother that she had been a wonderful mother and had done a wonderful
job. I told my mother that her work was done and that if she wanted to go,
she had my blessings, my gratitude and my love. I released her. I was
with my mother for several hours. I repeated this mantra into my mother’s
ear many times. At one point, while I was speaking into my mother’s ear,
for just a few seconds, she opened her eyes and moved her head up and down.
Then she closed her eyes and was still again. I know she heard me.
GRACE, I danced into it.
Jeff Hasner
posted march 31st by Jeff Hasner (updated february 2008) |
