- When you look deeply at anything that's ordinary, it becomes extraordinary. And so we've been working
- on devising this together for a few months, and it is improvised. So we have scores, we kind of have
- frames, but we're improvising through the movements. And so it's different than watching a performance
- on a stage, and the musicians will be improvising too.
- To look at when people are improvising, you can see the real-time choices that they make. You can see
- how they're relating to each other, how they're navigating problems. So you're not just watching the
- movement, you're watching the relationship that's being created.
- the relationship that we're hopefully holding and creating with all of you in this space and the relationship
- that we've been like making with this round because we've been rehearsing out here in the public with
- people being like what's going on for a few weeks now so I just want to invite you to maybe consider
- watching a little differently listening differently yeah and
- Taking the time, the dancers are not the only thing. We're in a whole space. So how are the dancers
- helping you to see the city differently? Or maybe consider what it means to be here on this lawn, this
- public space, differently. Yeah? Okay. Awesome. So we're just gonna do a little tuning practice.
- because I think sometimes if we're available to feel ourselves, then we can feel others more, feel our
- spaces more. So if you'll join me and you can feel free to participate as you like. So the first practice,
- if you'd like, you can close your eyes and we're just gonna open our ears. So you can imagine as if
- the ears have maybe,
- more space to take in the sounds around us. And first you're just noticing what is here, what is close
- in the sounds that we hear.
- here. And then in that noticing of that farthest sound, notice the silence under the sound.
- our body, the feeling of the heat, maybe the stickiness, the weather, the wind,
- imagination of this space, of this place. And I'm just going to invite us into a small little practice.
- So first we're just going to shift our weight. So we're just feeling that sinking into the earth, softening
- the knees, knowing that you don't always have to brace
- can we soften and if you like you could just add a little a little gesture to be like okay I'm softening
- I'm feeling the earth I'm feeling my feet
- the hips if you like, we're just gently, very small waking up of the body.
- this land that has these ancient limestone deposits that we have built our city on and also that kind
- of create a foundation in our the story of this place. So what is it to like feel that there's stone
- in the history here? There's stone holding us. The stone has a sense of
- Let's just take a deep breath together as we get ready to begin. You can inhale, you can stretch up,
- maybe twinkle the fingers.
- and go into different spaces. So please follow them, listen to them, make sure that we divide so that
- we all fit, because one space only holds 17 people. And follow them as we progress. So we're gonna be
- moving around. So if you get lost, if you have a program that will hint to where we're going, if you
- get left behind, but try not to get left behind on the pilgrimage.
- She is our poet guide, so she is another person to follow. And so I'm going to invite you to listen
- to an opening poem. You could come closer. You can either look at her or you can look out. The dancers
- are arriving in the space physically, so you can feel free to move between
- Thanks for joining us on this pilgrimage together. I'm gonna open with a poem and then we will start
- our pilgrimage moving this way. So, invocation for earth, sky, body, land. Belonging looks like this.
- Here are your hands. How they move like small maps in the morning. How they dust off the curtain over
- the sky and remember. Here is your remembering.
- widening out like a reach, running the skin of everything against your air. Look who is breathing alongside
- of you. Look who is sensing the waters that run through you. It is the ground returning to your body.
- It is the outside that is no longer so far away. You are a museum of multitudes, a vessel of history. Once you
- the feet traveling across the stone, but the stone itself is evidence. I begun again to look to the
- ground for my earthliness. I've been mapping a small pilgrimage even when I do not know where it is
- I am going. The edge greets me with new vision.
- my teeth. Look how they appear the way a pebble does at the shore. Quiet company, you have been here
- all along. It was me taking my sweet time to unearth all I am made of. I begin in a body again.
- my sibling. It greets me with its own eyes in the dark and all at once what was so very far.
- you in towards this living. You sang back. When I thought I was falling, there you were. A bell so high
- up in the tower, I had to turn my head and listen. If we are to enter into this lineage, we must find
- our way in through the other. We must turn our knowing even towards the tiniest seed and wait for the
- unearthing. And here in our own dirt,
- and all we are made of. We birth each other again and again. I watch you dress in the ordinary. I comb
- your hair. The days follow our skin around. Even the sun hears this good music. I am made of your small
- voice in the mornings. There is an echo that rings in the look on your face. Come now, there is a mother
- inside of me. Come now,
- There's a mirror somewhere in the sky uncovering this love.
- through swollen clouds. Everything here is sick with an ugliness and I don't know where it is going.
- I stole pebbles and coins from the fountain outside the department store. Sometimes I can't tell if
- I'm looking at a painting or my life. The trees etch themselves into every story and I am sick of not
- getting to be the one
- true I've sculpted my life into something new so that I do not have to go to the cold edges of space
- for love again. I stay on the quiet shore begging to be again. His dark hair snags the corner of my
- nakedness and I am undone again. I want to dress this body in something that fits a gown glowing under the light
- my grandmother first dance toward what she thought would give her new life. It is cyclical, and if I've
- learned anything carrying the weight of this unbecoming, it is that there is always a small window pointing
- to a field that once belonged to your body. Look how you blur
- the dryer and you put it right on and it's toasty warm. Getting in your bed, your own bed and sleeping
- in your bed after you've been gone for a very very very long time. And the feeling in your own bed of
- your own pillows and you get the pillows just right so you're so comfortable you never want to move
- your leg. Contact. Going camping and seeing your friend already set up your tent for you. Coming home
- and noticing that your partner washed the floor. Barefoot in the grass. Coming home and seeing the huge
- mess left by your
- they knocked over a pot and there's dirt everywhere, but you're thankful because they let your plant
- live that long.
- on the back patio. That cute hippie chick you saw in a crowd in college and you took a picture of her
- but you never knew her name and you never saw her again.
- Anything you knew existed.
- Lighting candles for any reason. Shabbat. Hanukkah. Birthday cakes. Secrets. Secret rituals. Hiding
- under a blanket in the back of the station wagon and creating your own little world.
- in your mouth and they're
- You don't know how to play your instrument, but you do know how to pose like a record cover and look
- like you're playing rock and roll.
- all we need to the next location. Can I have all my living people here?
- seated, we'll be showing a sort of a documentary with a kind of a Bloomington vibe. Thank you. Yeah.
- Hello. Thank you. Hello, bake a popcorn, if you like. Thank you, later. Oh, I'm back. Thank you. How
- you doing, man?
- So this part here is the guy in the furniture.
- is in these pages. When your memories unfurl before your very eyes, you must face your own knowledge.
- Look now how within you are corners you forgot you've been. Look now how even the abyss does not feel
- so dark anymore. Where you once sat weeping, now you go on galloping. Yes, it is true we are tied to
- the body of the story.
- Still we are made of dirt which has built a thousand temples. Give yourself a language that treads the
- edges of where you have been. Step into the sounds of something so very alive and waiting. All there
- is is to return again to what cannot be said.