Wednesday, November 15, 2006

There's this guy...

Imagine, if you will, a man who has the ability to create music through movement. Not just dumb noises, and not exactly through singing either. I guess it could be a woman too. But imagine it.

As you watch he stands still on the stage. He begins by tensing and relaxing his body. A low beat flows out from him. He tenses his arms and a slightly higher note is struck. He tenses his legs and the note drops. But as long as he moves the beat is continuous. The music draws you in. There is no real melody yet, just a beat, but every single sound serves to draw you into his dance.

Soon, he moves his whole body in a circle. And the melody begins. His arms swing up from his sides and then back down again, but as they come down his waist bends and his hands touch the ground. He starts to bang his hands on the ground. You notice that the sound from his hands drumming is completely different. It complements his music, but it doesn't come from within him.

Then he jumps. The music peaks as he tenses his muscles for the jump, then pauses as he leaves the ground. He travels through the air without moving. He holds his pose, and there is a sense of timelessness that comes from the silence. As he reaches the apex of his flight, he prepares his body for the landing. There is a high, anticipatory strain in the song, and the he lands. From here the music and dance become frantic, frenetic. He moves quickly from point to point on the stage flinging his hands, legs and head in amazing directions. You can't take your eyes from his art. You watch in amazement, and listen in wonder.

As the performance continues you notice that his body is starting to tire. The notes sound less clear. As he frames his arms, they seem to lack the strength they had at the beginning. Everything sounds off key.

Then in one final motion, he pools all of his energy, and the music swells to a finale and he collapes on the floor. The music has stopped. You look at him, waiting for more, but the piece is over. Then he slowly rises.

There is a faint music in his movement, but it is so soft that you can barely make it out. He smiles and bows. The crowd around you erupts in applause, but all you can do is stare. Remembering the dance and the music. After the rest of the show has concluded, you find him and shake his hand. He thanks you kindly, and then you leave. Somehow you are changed. Somehow you know that you could make that kind of music, but the days pass, and the years fly by. All you have is the memory of the man who could sing through movement.

End.

Ok, I know this is a little wierd. But I went to a little show yesterday, and part of it was a dance recital of sorts. There were excellent dancers, and there were less proficient performers. But as I watched, I could feel something. When the dancers were lax, and their whole being was not a part of the music, I could feel it and see it. I could just imagine how the dance was connected to the music, and even more so when the better dancers would move. Their whole body seemed connected, and electric. It wasn't just, "Put you feet here, and you arms like this." Their whole being seemed created for each single move.

Then I had this thought. A good dancer controls the music. Even though in real life we can't make music in quite the same way as the man, a good dancer will make us think that it is true.

I have taken some dance classes, and I just sat there thinking, "What if I could do that?" It's pretty amazing. Our bodies are wonderful.

Now, you can make any connection you want from this little story. It has to do with life, with dreams, and all sorts of things. Or you may think that it's just a wierd little story.

But I learned something by writing it, and now I am a little better than I was.

1 comment:

Richard Chamberlain said...

We all do make our own music with our bodies and our action and our words.