I have been inspired by a question from a participant a week ago, she asked what tradition am I connected to? Although I could name, and along with it build through the teachers I have learned from, a part of art history I connect to, but something in me just don’t do it. Even though I pay respect to all my teachers in my life, how could I create a selection from them?Would the midwife, who was not in tune with my birthing mother be less of my teacher than the one who taught me ankoku butō? The cow who wished to horn me is still imprinted in my arm’s movement, so she was my teacher on the road. I know, within the context of dance I could frame myself with the dancers, and dance teachers I have encountered, still, the path of dance I am walking is far from indentification such sort. My tradition includes all who shaped the motion “I”, who awakened me, who abused, who loved, who was silent, all sentient beings in touch and in distance. All shaped the ryhthm of dance that arrives and goes.
There are some teachers dear to my heart, but I had to admit it would give a false impression on life if I would name them, create their characteristics which one then would find worthy to search for. Even if I search for the same values, knowledge to improve, I will miss all! It is not craving or desire to trust, they themselves are teachers of some kind.
At this very moment when I am finishing this sentence, my teacher is my mind over thinking. I constantly need to remind myself, where is my mind which is speaking through the sentences.
* Have a dreaming night! *