One of the main events at the end of the first year is each student's presentation of 20 specific movements that we learned over the course of the year. We all have the same repertoire to draw from, but it's quite revealing how everyone does them differently and how each person strings them together in their own unique way. I'd heard that the 20 movements show who you are. That's quite a claim. But I'll grant that there's something to it. I wouldn't say the 20 movements are likely to reveal something that's never come to light before, more that they often crystallize some key parts of what has shown through from time to time.
We 40 or so did our presentations over three days, and we all watched each of them. The 2nd years were invited to come, too, and several did. As did most of the teachers. I'd worked on my presentation quite a bit. I enjoyed the challenge of finding a flow from one movement to another, also including some surprising juxtapositions and varying the rhythms. A few movements take just a few seconds. Others are quite involved--a dozen steps or more. And you can cycle through a movement several times before moving on if you want; so each presentation took a while. Mine was about 8 minutes. You're out there, all by yourself in front of potentially the whole school. The stage is yours. The time is yours. The goal is more to show yourself than it is to hide your mistakes, because often the things that are most difficult for you show you more in your fullness. (The things that are most playful often do, too.)
As I watched others go before me, I often thought of which movement I would go into from the one they were doing, just as a review to myself. The morning I was to go, I was a bit chagrined to see that a classmate had almost the same routine as I'd be doing a few people later. Of the 20 transitions, about a dozen of hers were the same as mine. Oh no, I thought at first, mine's going to look so familiar after this. But each of us does them differently--different bodies, different ways of moving, different things that we bring to it--and so after she'd finished, I realized mine would be different in its own way. I'm not sure anyone but me (and maybe she) noticed the similarities of pattern when all was said and done.
Doing the 20 movements was one of the highlights of the year for me. The feedback afterward was very encouraging, and I got a lot of strokes from my classmates. I don't know exactly what it looked like, but several people commented on the "maturity" I brought to it, which I really do think was not just a way of saying I'm obviously older. (One of the teachers even said I look much younger now than when I started last fall. I am a lot more limber. And lighter.) I won't go into the specifics of the comments here, but apparently something did show through that drew on a different level of life experience. I felt really good about it. It was one of those times (that we all need so much) when I could tell that I really have learned something in my time here.
It was also a time when I could get out of my head and trust that my body knew what to do. I remember thinking at one point in the middle of it all, "Did I just forget something there? Did I skip a movement?" But there wasn't time to stop and fret over it. Actually I could have stopped and done that, but I didn't want to. So I just went on, trusting that my body remembered the patterns I'd rehearsed. I wish I could do that more often.
1 comment:
I am so very proud of you.
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