InterPlay Journal, Friday morning, April 11, 2014

Posted on April 13, 2014 by Francine Walls

Body Wisdom: To change your life, change your practice!”

Patricia led today on the theme of “intersections.” What happens when we come to an intersection in our lives when we must choose one way or another? What do we do, and what do we not do? What needs to be let go in order to move forward?

In one form, she has us find a partner. We walked to music “together” as partners although just looking at each other peripherally. We took turns following and leading in movement, gesture and sound. When we “noticed” later, one said that she and her partner, “moved as one body.”

In the Babbling form with partners, we babbled for 30 seconds on the word, “choices,” as well as the phrase, “the path not taken.”    Finding new partners, we babbled on the question, “What do we want to do?” Then, we babbled on the question, “What do we need to do to make that happen?”

Patricia had us form three lines. Each person was to walk in a way that showed what needed to be done to get to the state desired. The second time, each person was to walk as if what they wanted had happened. Well, there was some strutting!

Toward the end, we formed a circle and spoke our concerns briefly into the circle.   Many woes emerged such as illnesses, injuries, natural disasters etc. To music, we did a “dance on behalf” of those concerns expressed.

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Alki Point, Minus Tide

Posted on April 7, 2014 by Francine Walls
c. FEWalls

c. FEWalls

Amanda runs through the shallow waves

in her pink sun-suit and rubber boots,

yelps as she holds a crab,

its single pincher snapping.

 

Amanda grins and flashes the new front teeth

too big for the others; she sets the crab

down carefully among sea grasses,

the bud of its new pincher still safe to grow.

 

Amanda ignores the call from the shore

and the women from Vietnam bent-over

the tide flats placing crabs and clams

in plastic bags to sell.

 

Amanda smells like kelp in the sun.

Her hair damp, she licks salt from her lips,

squats in the shallows fingering the algae

and the roots of their hold-fast grabbing rocks.

 

The long blades of algae, brown, green, red,

bob on the waves with a strand of white

bleached out by age, sun, death.

 

Amanda stirs the sea lettuce.

She prods the starfish humped over a moonsnail,

its arms move slowly,

never tiring, never giving up.

 

Amanda stares at the abdomens of crabs

looking for the broadness of the female

hiding the ovaries. She misses

the red nipple of sea cucumber

wedged deep in the breakwater.

 

Amanda ignores her mother’s yell

from the shore, hands on hips,

“Lunch, Amanda, time to go,

right now, Amanda, time to go,

right now!”

 

FEWalls

 

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Wing-Beat in the Grand Canyon of the Colorado

Posted on April 4, 2014 by Francine Walls

Starry Night, Van Gogh

You have said your good-byes like prayers,

used to the words on your lips;

your child has the shape of your eyes,

but the shade of resemblance dances away.

 

Remember the river at dawn,

flowing between the canyon walls

as the mallards flew swiftly before you

scouting the unseen curves in the channel,

their wing-beats counting down the miles?

 

The cliffs above you climb beyond seeing,

the water fast past the boulders,

the rapids seize you, twist you,

pin you against the rocks then let you free.

 

In the pressure of the current,

there is no turning back.

The ravens struggle across the river against the wind,

the cliffs the color of the bead

of blood that glitters from a wound.

 

You feel the shape of the canyon in your body,

the ocean abandoning the inland, again and again,

the continents shifting on their hidden tracks,

as you dream of separation.

 

Gather up what you know,

as the weather turns to rain,

the mallards have disappeared into the light

and, now,

you emerge from the canyon alone.

 

FEWalls

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Apricot Moon

Posted on April 4, 2014 by Francine Walls

IMG_2519

Ignition on, the key worn down

almost straight now,

on the dashboard,

a pack of Camels

lying on maps among rock samples

and tufts of tamarisk.

 

Shirtless, you lean forward, turn the key,

a birthmark flutters over your 6th vertebra,

the engine roils in the guts of the Subaru,

purple-gray mountains in the distance.

 

We lurch through corridors of sand, pitted tracks,

past tiny signs to Fault Wash, Vista del Malpais,

a hard right, the key falls to the mat,

the motor, oblivious, roars on.

 

At the cliff, the clawed Badlands before us

baked reddish-gold, dusk gathers up the warmth

and the waxing gibbous moon rises.

We lie on our backs in the sand,

 

the trajectory of our eyes lifts to Perseus,

son of Zeus, who rode the winged stallion,

and fights on in the night sky.

We dream the stories of the ancients

from this cluster of our beginnings.

 

FEWalls

 

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Prism

Posted on April 4, 2014 by Francine Walls

IMG_0209_1The glittering water pulses with rainbows,

tosses off colors, swirling, a flutterance –

no thought of loss or want or farewell,

brilliance for a shilling or a dime or naught

gathering the colors up again to shrug them off,

twirling into the garden.

 

Come back! See!

The crows screech in the firs,

the raccoons sleep in the fennel

leaving the leaves tamped down,

smelling of licorice.

 

Silently, the crocuses raise their heads,

clumps of purple, thin leaves arching,

then, too soon, they fade into the soil.

 

The bird bath stutters in the wind and rain.

The waves lapping and overlapping,

casting off colors with abandon,

casting off the past,

casting off you.

 

FEWalls

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Transformation

Posted on April 4, 2014 by Francine Walls

You are trapped in the gyre,

drifting in the ocean without oxygen

in a mass the size of Texas.

 

You can escape. Lean close.

You must throw yourself into the endless whirlpool,

lashed to a barrel.

You think you will die of fright

but this is the only way to salvation.

 

Here you start to shift your muscles into a new shape,

where the paralyzed learn to walk

controlling one muscle and then the next.

The miracle is imagining that you walk.

 

The sky turns gold, a platterful of sun.

You will be reassembled!

Beyond you, a bird-flier comes

chewing up your doubt with its long red tongue.

 

See your life whole now

skimming along the sleek side of a whale

as it careens from one continent to the next.

 

FEWalls

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InterPlay Journal, Friday morning, April 4, 2014

Posted on April 4, 2014 by Francine Walls

Steve (the man with the gray goatee) led InterPlay this morning.  “Spring” was definitely the theme today.  About 20 of us were milling around and chatting at the start, so he had us find a partner and begin to massage their upper shoulders. This felt terrific especially as part of it turned into a scalp massage done by my partner, Joy! Then we traded roles.

Babbling: We found new partners in order to “babble” for 30 seconds on a particular word, saying anything that came to mind. The words today were “flower,” “lawnmower,” “rake,” and “hummingbird.” We traded partners several time but only “noticed” with the final partner.  All this liberates the brain from its normal pathways. Refreshing.

Walk-Stop-Run: Steve divided us into two groups to do a walk-stop-run to music. The first group witnessed the other group and then switched. The group I was in did a lot of flying/flapping movements as we walked-stopped and ran. MaryAnn and I did a playful tango for a bit with some glorious silliness.  Joy skirted the group at one point, preferring to be one her own.  The role of the witnesses sitting on the sidelines is to notice how the movements watched felt in his or her body.

Toning: Steve started with holding a tone (note) for one breath. As he moved through this form, you could chose to make the same tone, a different tone or listen silently to the tone. Basically, we could vocalize as loudly or softly as we wanted, on whatever note we wanted. Very freeing to race up and down the scale just for fun! 

InterPlay.org      “InterPlay is a global social movement dedicated to ease, connection, human sustainability and play. Unlock the wisdom of your body!”

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Communal Life

Posted on April 1, 2014 by Francine Walls

The cherry trees shake out their fullness
the buds all in bloom now
absorbing the sound of the blue day.

The photographer must be quick
as he leans over his camera on the tripod,
already the lick of green shoots from the tip of the branches,
the pavement scattered with petals.

The trees so laden some dip
almost to the hyacinths,
yellow and ivory.

The cats sun themselves in the grass;
the dogs prance by their owners,
the lichen covers the gnarled trunks.

This long tradition on 33rd street,
the avenue shimmering in pink ,
so brief,
so needed.

FEWalls March 31, 2014

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Interplay Journal, Friday morning, March 29, 2014

Posted on March 31, 2014 by Francine Walls

We did a long warm up to the music of Stephane Grappelli as Joy led the group. She had us do a number of walk-stop-runs with our group of 18 women and 2 men. We walked fast, then slowly. We walked in curvy lines, then zig-zag lines. We stopped and watched others move.

Joy had what she called a Muse Cube which she threw down during one of the walk-stop-runs. The “sound” words on the die were: howl, yell, sigh and whoop. Another one had words for movement such as “bounce.” We could incorporate the sounds or movements.

We “babbled” taking turns with our partners on several words: reflect, pause, wander, spontaneity.

Joy talked about “body grooves,” and how we get into patterns that can be fun to challenge. She taught us a song (with motions):

Tall trees              (Extend your hands to the sky.)

Warm fire            (Put your arms around your upper torso.)

Strong winds        (Move your arms back and forth.)

Deep water            (Move your hands close to the ground.)

I feel in it in my body.

I feel it in my soul.

 

At the end of the morning, we stood holding hands in a circle and threw in words like “love, rest, strength, joy, pleasure.” What larks!

InterPlay.org      “InterPlay is a global social movement dedicated to ease, connection, human sustainability and play. Unlock the wisdom of your body!”

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Migration

Posted on March 31, 2014 by Francine Walls

 

 

The crescent moon cradles Venus,c. FEWalls

you who have flown south south-east;

I wave a scarf at the horizon

where you disappeared.

 

The flute quiets the transplanted soul

while the owls are near tonight.

 

You abandoned your past

like coils of fishing net,

torn beyond mending.

 

Come back and pull me close.

Let your eyelids close me into your thoughts.

I will learn to map you and find my way

past old voices that inhabit your body.

 

FEWalls

 

 

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