Field Trip

As a movement teacher, I take my students to the edge of the field, to the place where the melted snow has made mud that sucks, licks, pulls, beckons shoes, beckons bare feet to go there, to sink, spread, soften, and merge with this place.

This too is a dreaming field.

Movement Score

Where in the world are you? What in-between setting do you find yourself in? Frozen ground now thawing? Sprinklers now run themselves out? Skirting the edge of a pond? Monsoon rains now ceasing?

Wherever you are, look for slurping ground, then shed your shoes and socks once you find it.

Roll up your trousers and step into the mud.

Breathe into opening pores, skin that drinks moisture and draws it up into your bones.

Take a walk.