How Shall We Begin Again? By starting ...

Sunday 13 November - myself, Emily and 6 brilliant women who are to be part of How Shall We Begin Again? in Peterborough went to see the London-iteration of Jo Fong’s process at the Siobhan Davies Studios in Elephant & Castle, South London.

On the train journey we all introduced ourselves, and described the various initiatives and networks we were connected to. In no time at all new connections were being made and offers of support being proffered. This made my heart sing, as one of aims of the project is to build community connections, distributing resources and relationships, building resilience. If we can create these relationships within 40 minutes on a Thameslink train - what can we achieve by moving and supporting each other over the next 5 months?

The purpose of the trip was to introduce some of our project’s participants to Jo’s process, so they could carry that knowledge and insight back to Peterborough and share with the 36 other participants we will be working with. What we took back are emotions and instinctual responses. You just had to be there.

But I will try to describe what I saw, from 2pm - 5pm, as a series of dancers, solo and group, came into the space, and shared the movement of their bodies and the progression of their thoughts about How Shall We Begin Again?

A Series of TedTalks. Where bodies did the talking.

Sharing of experiences, emotions, thoughts and reflections, though bodies, in space, to music, and silence. Observed, witnessed by people who also want to have the conversation - Where are we now? Where have we been? Let’s be curious about How Shall We Begin Again?

We “speak”, revealing thoughts, responses to questions, bigger thoughts, challenges - pausing, being without or apart from those we care most about, wondering if it is possible to move forward softly.

Trust has been established, a safe space to ask the questions, and not know the answers, but to take a step on a journey of curiosity. Sometimes we are alone in this thinking, sometimes we are making this enquiry with others. Sometimes the music is loud and dominant, sometimes silence hangs heavy - and is filled, or not, with words, or movement.

It takes bravery, trust, but also a hunger for change, knowledge, new voices and new stories, and taking up of space.

What is wrapped round this? Very little. A DJ choosing tracks, which seem to pick up where the silence or words lead, or cannot go. Or does the dance conjure up that music? There is no hiding. There is only room for honesty.

The last few minutes of each section has both a sense of urgency - “I haven’t quite finished yet” and impatience - “I need to handover this conversation.”

We are changed by the act of sharing, of witnessing, and being witnessed.

The next “speaker” comes on - providing relief, permission, accepting the gift of their predecessors knowledge, experience and discoveries.

What does movement reveal, or release? What does taking up space do to the body, to the mind, to how we move through our futures?

Sometimes (often) words fail, action takes over, comforts, releases, protects, bridges. Sometimes we don’t have to speak, the work of being in the body is more than enough, is so full of curiosity and belief that There is no need, to speak.

Dance this dangerous, this bold, cuts to the humanity in us all. Sometimes the stage is invaded, fully occupied, shared, by all those present - the full richness of humanity is revealed, exposed and acknowledged. We see that it is mostly noisy, messy, stupid, but even when uncomfortable and wild there is a playfulness which offers the hope, the trust, that we are just a bag of bones, strips of flesh, different and yet the same, but transformed.

And then we had to leave.

But the party continued.