A Humble Walk
To act justly, and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8)
One of the most profound experiences of dancing is exploring the amazing capabilities and limitations of the human body through movement. Trained in classical ballet since childhood, the unforgiving routine of daily stretching, the discipline, structure, and specificity of barre and center exercises which included adagio, pirouettes, petit and grand allegro followed by rehearsals were ingrained into my system and often became a perpetual reminder of the vicissitudes and the resilience of the human form. The daily physical fluctuations were clearly experiences I consciously chose to catalog somewhere else in my being and failed to acknowledge in my youth, ignoring the sage advice of my father: Take nothing for granted. Question everything. Be honest.
Reflecting on those days as well as exploring life-long learning that includes anatomy/physiology, the healing arts and the connections between body, spirituality and art; the discipline of dance and appreciation of movement itself is a sort of transcendent ritual in my life. While we have it— greater youthful mobility— dance and perhaps movement in general is a gift that can easily be assumed. Now, a long time member of ascended elders, my father is still whispering: Take nothing for granted. Question everything. Be honest.
While dancing professionally there were so many opportunities to be among different people from diverse cultures and backgrounds, ideological streams, religious backgrounds and yet, day after day we were immersed in the collective process of creating art. We united our talents toward the common good. We leaned on each other emotionally, artistically, and in an odd way spiritually; for one person missing from the corps de ballet changed the entire dynamic of a performance—a performance of speaking without words, but a valuable contribution to society. No doubt the common bond meant that even though we might disagree on certain issues we acted with pure beneficence toward one another practicing the words of the Golden Rule:
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
It was crystal clear that reverence and respect were not mere passwords. They grew out of relationships of body, soul, and spirit to another’s body, soul, and spirit. Relationships that could easily be taken for granted if one was not alert to hold in the highest esteem the people in the studio and their role in our lives individually and corporately on behalf of the performance.
The many kindnesses and acts of generosity both within and outside the studio that led to the final product were not in the program notes. They were not something to be read about, but something experienced. Disagreements were resolved quickly. Forgiveness was not a meaningless word, it carried the weight of a sacred vow. The commitment to working together, honoring the space which was infused with genuine agape love, made the inevitable injuries, discouragements, and the apparent illogical distribution of roles bearable. What arose from the depths of our beings were incredibly beautiful performances throughout the intensive 36 week long season each production resulted in the applause of cheering crowds. We were in some way exalted as artists.
Given the level of chaos and brokenness the world is experiencing —what artists do is harness the best parts of themselves for the common good. American novelist, essayist and academic Toni Morrison (1931-2019) had these thoughts for chaotic times:
This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.
And I might add: We dance!
Morrison continues:
I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge - even wisdom. Like art.
Many artists expound on the nature of creativity to guide us through the mazes of change, the destruction and the rebirth. E. M Forster (1879-1970) wrote—
A work of art. . . is the only material object in the universe which may possess internal harmony. All the others have been pressed into shape from outside and when their mould is removed they collapse. The work of art stands up by itself, and nothing else does. It achieves something which has often been promised by society, but always delusively.
In my imagination I wonder what kind of world could be cultivated if the encoding that takes place in a professional dance studio or artist’s space could be transferred to society in general. It would probably look like all of our brothers and sisters are respected and revered for who they are. It would mean that voices in conversations though broad and different would be respectful and honest — every voice listened to and heard. It might mean that there would a lot of forgiving going on, thus freeing the spirit for higher vibrancy and resonance in alignment with love and peace. You would be able to
. . . lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace (Ephesians 4: 1-3).
Those kinds of connections that deepen our inner spirit and keep us honest and human are invariably relationships of love. That’s not just poetic language! Civilizations have come and gone and yet, the concept of love and neighborliness—though seeming to elude us — continue to be essential in understanding life, each other and the progression of nature on earth. So it might be worth taking to heart the words of my father, Everhart St. Clare Turner, Sr.:
Take nothing for granted. Question everything. Be honest.
Once again, I am uplifted by your wisdom and soulfulness.