I met a bright light Sunday past at Sinclair's church. Dr. Sinclair Grey III had asked me to bring my drums to his church and play. I did. I always do when I can. I get to share, and play and tell a story or two for the benefit of the People. At the Liberation Temple my purpose seems to always be to encourage or spark vision within the congregants who live without their vision visible and vibrant within them.
At the end of service Sinclair asked me to drum again. I couldn't drum. A story needed to be told. So I told the story of Kanati, and Corn Mother. I needed to dance. So, I danced. I asked Belinda to dance after another woman politely, but firmly turned me down, and Belinda said yes. Jumping up like teenagers we spun each other around gleefully to the music in our heads, and the rhythms in our feet. It was a sheer delight.
Dance is the freedom of expression that arises and comes out of our bodies. There is a clamoring for freedom in this country, and simultaneously a denial of freedom. How that works out in this culture is behind the veil cast by denial and great fears around our bodies. Just like water tells the truth about one's religion dance tells the story of our freedom or our bondage. A superb and natural talent to dance is secondary to the love of dancing and one's ability to dance is not dependent upon how well one dances, but how one dances.
Belinda is memorable to me because she enjoyed herself and the way her body moved. Her body was an expression, a story even a child could read. The fluidity of her movements embraced Life, stirred the congregation, and re-told the stories Creator left in her body, and mirrored the magic created in Life to express how wonderfully made is the body of the dancer dancing to her music. - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories
At the end of service Sinclair asked me to drum again. I couldn't drum. A story needed to be told. So I told the story of Kanati, and Corn Mother. I needed to dance. So, I danced. I asked Belinda to dance after another woman politely, but firmly turned me down, and Belinda said yes. Jumping up like teenagers we spun each other around gleefully to the music in our heads, and the rhythms in our feet. It was a sheer delight.
Dance is the freedom of expression that arises and comes out of our bodies. There is a clamoring for freedom in this country, and simultaneously a denial of freedom. How that works out in this culture is behind the veil cast by denial and great fears around our bodies. Just like water tells the truth about one's religion dance tells the story of our freedom or our bondage. A superb and natural talent to dance is secondary to the love of dancing and one's ability to dance is not dependent upon how well one dances, but how one dances.
Belinda is memorable to me because she enjoyed herself and the way her body moved. Her body was an expression, a story even a child could read. The fluidity of her movements embraced Life, stirred the congregation, and re-told the stories Creator left in her body, and mirrored the magic created in Life to express how wonderfully made is the body of the dancer dancing to her music. - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories
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| Belinda Jackson |
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