17.5.2019, 19:08:34   |  Photo: Zuzana Žabková  |   Category: Dramaturgy, Space & context, Interdisciplinarity, Process of making, Art & Society

Snow in Spring

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Snow in Spring

Once I read about Stellared Dendrites, the specific type of snow flake that all of the holiday decorations are modeled from. These beautiful flakes form particularly weak layers in a snow bank; such weak layers can lead to an avalanche. 

As nature would have it, there was no such intense snow fall in Zdar that week. No banks of snow, no danger of a life threatening tumbling into icy abyss.

Still, we walked in the snow. Together.

Mostly together. A huddle, clumping here, dropping off there, re-looping to find itself again; bound by the membrane materials of a dining room and insistent scheduling.

Within the membrane we played show-and-tell, giving one another a peek at a tool or two from our respective treasure troves. 

I found similarities in shared practices of nuanced sensing, and interest in projects which bring people together for immersive experiences, an aversion to art which shines a spot light on some individual talent of sorts, and shared interest in allowing the body-mind to unfold as it wants-needs.

I have heard snow fall before. Still, I find it comforting to hear its softness anew.

In the midst of the castlescape, and now, again, as I sit with Spring sunlight flooding my kitchen, I hear some almost formed question-thoughts roll across my brow: are you, dear clump, actively caring for me? am I actively caring for you? 

If newly fallen snowflakes do not adequately bond to the pre-existing surface layer this produces conditions for an avalanche. 

Is it possible to care for one another even if we do not bond?

Snow fall of less than six inches seldom produce avalanches. So that\\\'s nice, the risk is low. 

What new did I find? 

I have heard snow fall before. Still, I find it sustaining to hear its softness anew.

Too, then and now, a smile washes through my chest as I recall moments inside of the membrane, of the snow fall that spoke of bird songs.

I let go of looking for meaning and remember -We are made of the same stardust of which all things all things are made ... we are being nothing other than what we can\\\'t help but be: a part of our world. - Carlo Rovelli


Eryn Bell 




Author: Eryn Bell

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