Finding Form

The dance found its way into form in my body last night. A space “in the round,” it was. Opportunity to move and not think, listen and not talk. I heard how weary I am, what rest I seek. And then right foot behind left, left step over, right foot in front, left foot follows, right knee up, left knee up, repeat. Arms stretched out to touch the shoulders of other saints, previous and present, repeat.  Unassuming. Understated. Invitational. An ancient congregational rumba line. My spirit soared. “I remember it!” I heard myself say inside. “This is how they do it. This is how we do it.”

The words of one of my teachers from way back arise in awareness here, this morning: architecture always wins. John Bell noted this with respect to community-singing and sanctuary architecture and accoutrement—carpets, pews with pew pads, arrangement of furniture, etc. A paraphrase of his teaching: “If you want people to sing, the space needs to be welcoming of their song, period. No carpet or pew pads to soak up the sound, isolate voices. People sitting close to one another so they know they are not vulnerably voicing their song alone.” Traditional spaces for communal song today prohibit most of this, of course. Rows of pews fashioned for comfort welcome the seated, but they also encourage isolation, spacing apart, vulnerable spaces for unaccustomed voices. Architecture always wins. Isolation grows, and song diminishes.

How much more true this is for body-work, movement, embodied or sensate awareness in most communal settings today. Movements are channeled only at right angles from one another—into the pews, or up and back the aisle. Sometimes you have a daring space that has diagonal aisles, but rare those are. People who gather—any ecclesia—will move and think as the surrounding architecture determines. How do we move and think? In right angles from one another, increasing space toward isolation, with polarized, either/or habits of mind.

How might circles and spirals find their way into form in our future, into our midst, I wonder? If the multitudes are accustomed to squares, rectangles, and straight edges, how does one encourage a different flow of line?

Disruption and disorientation, for starters. Starting anew somewhere else, then inviting us all in? Perhaps it is less about joining the dance, more about allowing the dance to find its form in you. Them. Us.