SSMS: October 2009



I chose to go apple picking in NH with my neighbors who make such superb apple “products”. I thought I would go off into another part of the orchard at 1pm and move but that didn’t work out.


The sky is dark. I light candles.
I am aware of not wanting any responsibility today.
I start walking around the apartment and sense tension in my lower back. I go to the ground and lie in CRP. What a great phrase, ‘constructive rest’ is exactly what it implies. I stay for a while and focus on my breathing. Little tiny movements in the periphery begin, sending energy up into the limbs and into my spine. Not much happens!

I roll over and stand, and consider moving from the periphery. I draw lines, circles, diagonal pathways in the space with feet and hands, legs and arms. I walk and find myself dressing in warmer clothes putting on my shoes and exiting out the door. This is my dance.


Today I felt as though we were dancing together in one room, a trio. I started on my feet, shifting foot to foot, head down then head up, added shoulders, then arms. Moving backward I sat in my chair and rested. Still in the chair, my arms are swinging. I am bent over forward. I gradually rise to my feet swaying in time to the music. I begin to pick up my feet at the apex of the sway, first the good foot then the stroked one. Music helps. I feel a kind of nostalgia for my dear ballet. I do a port de bras. I end by walking in time to music, back in to my chair to finish.




I am late, having been gathering firewood in the forest with Dave. It is so beautiful in the woods, the sun coming through the thinning trees, the warm colors bely the coolness on its way. I have had a cold since Monday.

Starting by the windows, I walk, one step at a time, hesitating, breathing, not wanting to go anywhere, waiting for the desire to step again. Like fractured sentences, the movements come out, waiting and listening in between.

I go to the floor to lie on my back, sensing the weight of my body, noticing the deep layer of muscular holding, letting that go. Odd movements almost ticks arise and fall. I execute a big folded body move, a slow flopping flip, leading with my knees, dragging my back after them as my feet disappear under my butt and I lie face down in the panel of sun.

I am standing – can’t remember how – and doing plies. I remember I was doing deep plies in second in my dreams the other night, rather pleased with myself after all these years.

I finish with quirky linear moving pieces, thinking about large spaces, gestures traveling across large spaces, how to create solid structures for improvisational material. I continue to think about a piece Dear Pina and often, in these SSMS, ideas are birthed.


I am up very early, not yet 5am.  My young adult daughter occupies my thinking. I pace around the apartment, move things around, sit down, knit, get up, stand, turn around, move that over there, keep moving.

I go to the floor, rock and roll, watch my hands on the floor. I make equal distance between each finger, practice little hand dances, think of tarin, think of my father as my hands resemble his. I stay with my upper extremities and long to spread my wings.

As I am standing, I imagine hugging my daughter, my friends and my arms stretch ever so wide. I smile and do a face dance. I move around doing little dances and find myself again, moving things around.  So I end after 40 minutes of practicing the practice.


My brother visited, and when he and his son went fishing, I managed a quick few minutes of SSMS, but was too distracted to do much more than greet you and feel our connection.




It’s a grey, raw day, the last of food harvesting, cold storage and processing time. The trees are quickly losing their leaves. Sara is in Vermont. Maybe you are moving now.

The floor is cold. I put on Eno’s Neroli – empty, haunting – and begin shuffling slowly around the perimeter of the space, trying to warm my feet on the wood. I find myself in extended body conversations, some just flows out without awareness until I am in the midst of it, other parts are more conscious. Lots of curving and circling leading to sharper gestures timed to my breath and a tempo in my head, different than Eno’s slowly unfolding music.

I go to the floor and roll to find some softness. I explore the horizontal range for a while, conscious and semi-unconscious ‘til I find I am on my feet. I wonder how I got there? The passage was seamless and not painful, so that is good.

There is a half-way uncurled phrase, watching the floor and my feet, back curved over, arms working to convey some message. That is an interesting area for me, my face not visible, the sternum folded over but still open and alive.


I was walking in the Vermont woods as you both were moving, struck by the colors of the leaves. I gathered bundles of them and pieces of birch bark to bring back to Sitka.




What turned into a lovely sunny somewhat mild day was the ground for a different kind of movement study. I put on my orange vest and the dogs vests and bells and headed towards the pond where I did a short movement phrase feeling and hearing the wind and the sun on my face, aware that the days are very numbered in terms of warmth outside. I did some shaking like a leaf and some sudden pivots, disturbing grass roots with my boots. At one point, Sara, I was doing the “cocktail bird” which keeps re-occurring these months. I frequently stand on my right leg and counterbalance with my left and arms.

Then I walked as consciously as I could through the woods, up and over the hill, a gentle and calming walk.

Sara, I am looking forward to Tuesday when you and Bonnie come out and we move together and then share food. I washed the floor when I returned from my walk, wanting to have a clean surface for our time together.


Visiting with friends in Vermont.


It’s COLD here in Page, AZ, December weather, not October.

I sit for a while listening to the music of Hikari Oe, a retarded boy who communicates mainly through his music which is simple and undemanding. I start by tilting my head, then turn it, and roll my head. Eventually, I add my shoulders, and then my arms but keep them low and simple. I rise to add my torso and legs but feel so inept when standing that I sit back down and continue moving in the chair. It sounds dull but I was quite happy. Nothing was forced and before I knew it I was done.