Writings from Walleye Vol.1

For the last two Sundays I have been attending a really amazing writing/movement class called Walleye.  I thought today I would post my writings from this mornings Walleye.  They may not make a ton of sense out of context.  We usually do a few minutes of movement, followed by some writing, so here are my writings from today, without the movements that accompany them.

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The animal scent of my freshly washed body drifts to my nose as I follow my breath.  Rolling like a wave, swaying like a tree and then back again.  It is all there in the inhale and the exhale.  The intake and release, the push and the pull.  The intimacy of shared breath, that joins us all, plant and animal alike.
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Moving in such a way brings to mind the connectedness of my single body, the way others attributed movement and postures to ancient statues.  A solid piece of carved stone, with a story to tell.  I feel my body want to bend and pull away from the physical confines that hold it.  To bend and transform as if in metamorphosis, to become something more open, perhaps able to fly.
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Sometimes the space between the dark and the light create a wall.  On one side things are clear and from this side, nothing can be found on the other.  Crossing over this threshold brings to life other ways of seeing.  This is where the gentle monsters live.  They are monsters but they will cradle you if you let them.  You can feel warm breath down the back of your neck and fur brush against your legs.  There is a throbbing in the air here.  The frogs and the crickets sing in unison and this singing cocoons your heart.  In the dark you become animal again.  You can feel the antlers taking shape as they push through the flesh of your forehead, feel the feathers thread their way through the pores of your arms.  Here you are whole and you are held.  A nest, a den, a dwelling.  The not so gentle love of predator and prey.
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The eyes of the observer and the observed.  The two meet in flashes.  The way lightning shows bits of the terrain never before noticed.  Always followed by a calming rumble.   The body is a storm breaking open the landscape with breath and motion.  It is the dream of a place, which we never wake from
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