I usually find these creatures in a mountain forest rock bed or a meandering brook through high desert, but here I find them along the ocean. When I find them, it is the only time I feel I’m truly dancing. Before the expression of dance is experienced by others, before pigments are smashed together in a painting, before a word is written on the page; there is a moment that happens between human and nature. The initial interaction that then feeds a thousand other interactions and manifests into a piece, a script, a joke, a picture, a dance. However brief these moments of purity are; the belief that they exsist is where my magic lies. Where Contessology is born.
A simple walk out to the vast moon of rocks and the dance begins. Stepping at first, slowly and methodically over the rocks, keeping my balance and hoping my dexterity would keep my feet from slipping. Sharp black holes filled with sharp clam shells ready to tatoo my sand worn feet with blood. Slowly without my knowing the steps become liquid and drip faster and faster across the abnormal shaped friends. My mind is no longer guiding my steps. Every few seconds my mind wakes and comments on the success and hopes for more, but in this I feel my feet becoming awkward and jilted. Easily releasing back into the rhythm, absorbing the enormity of thousands of choices in front of me, my body connects to its natural state of decision making. A quarter human, a quarter connected to the stars, a quarter earth explorer, and a quarter wind, my feet have become one with the solid grey blue giants begging for me to tickle their perfectly shaped step holds…leading me to the next perfect place to twirl my toes. My legs weaving in improvised steps, my arms waving in swooping balance as they assist the legs in this dance. I almost collapse with the thought, that this is what I’m trying to portray on a stage. That moment of utter connection where movement and change are made to be met again and again. An entire hour in this luscious state and I’m back on sandy shores with my dance licking at my feet. I turn around an bow to the rocks for their knowledge and guidance.
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From somewhere inside a Puddle