I have lived in this Sisterhood for life months now. We are magnet; Drop, Flame, Weaver and me, Sad Dancer. When we met they were just images to me. Today every name has a taste, a sound, smell. I know how it feels to touch their skin, how salty their tears can be and where in their body they hide their longings. I can recognize their footsteps, their humming and their laughter in a crowd of million. They are so unique every one of them, and so am I. Yet we are one, a deeply rooted poetic creature who can breath together, dance together and dream together.
It seems like a long time ago now, when the soft voice of the Sister invited me to dive into my deepest ocean. I found a forest and the fear of what to find in the dark. My heartbeat chased me like a shadow. I ran away. From the dark inside myself. A dark hole of loss.
I moved to the cemetery. I was drawn to a grave where the name were disappearing. I needed a place and a time to dive as deep into my sorrow as I could. Sisters voice inside me; your sadness is a beautiful gift to the world. I lighted a memory light to always remember. I embraced the ancient sadness inside me with love for the first time. Now was the time to give it a form.
My tableau started to live its own life. Old black and white photos, empty frames, my typewriter painting poems at the wallpapers, the black ink in my notebooks and on my fingers. Everywhere shawls and the caravan of women whispering under my skin.
Every morning the Journeyman stood in the portal of the Sun. Receiving us with his warm gaze and reminding me silently that we are all made of stardust.
And every week The Link was our anchoring heart, holding us tight and at the same time encouraging us to dive deeper into our poetic world.
Then the (W)hole came. She invited me to dive into my fragility. I made my own funeral and woke up to the world with new eyes.
The Flow opened my body to the magic of circular movements and to the adventure of staying. I realized that I never stayed long enough and committed myself to stay and grow roots.
The Ekko showed me to walk so silently that my feet became ears and one night I could hear the language of the crows. I discovered how loud the silence can be. Now I have my own humming.
With the Dramaturge we turned the forest into a landscape of magic words. I felt the movement of painting in my body and I discovered the important space in-between the words.
The Untamed made me commit to dance as long as I have a body, to dance with my four shadows.
She reminded me of the power of rituals. That what I put in is what I get out. And that my weakness is my strength.
This ending is at the same time a beginning. I will always be so thankful to the Sister and all the teachers for everything they taught me and for all that we shared. I am deeply in love with all of my sisters. This space and time is forever. I have what I need to go on now. I can scream my name, whisper my name or stay in silence. I am here to stay. Sad Dancer. I manifest and share my poetic self and my poetic realm with the world. It is the most beautiful thing.
Everything I lost is inside me. Everything I was, everything I dreamt, everyone I loved, everyone I lost. Everyone who walked before us on this earth. When I want to describe it in words or images the memories disappears. But when I dance, slowly in circles, I feel it is all in there. It is like a misty poetry in my body. I wear my sorrow as a crown now. Every tear is a diamond and I trust the darkest soil to be the most fertile place to plant the seeds of our lost longings.
Together with the Bikuben Foundation we are bringing the sensuous and poetic values to Folkemødet 2022. At Fællesscenen, artistic director Gry Worre Hallberg unfolds the vision of The Sensuous Society and meets Deputy Director of DJØF Sigge Winther Nielsen and journalist Lene Johansen for a conversation about how the aesthetic…
Today the students in the genre project were given secrets and little personal pieces of the puzzles that will become their writings. The cardboard Indan woman performed the ceremony. She is a cardboard indian because she has old scraps of paper in stead of Buffalo skins, she has paper and…