A moment of movement

A moment of complete silence.
Silence consumed by fullness.

So quiet I could not hear the music,
I could not hear my own breath,
even the world around me was quiet.

I know it was still there.
The world.
Surrounding me, trying to pull me down, distracting me and holding on to me.
The world.
Insisting that we should worry, insisting that we are not good enough.
In the moment of complete silence, the world was irrelevant.
The world was quiet.

It is special dancing with another person.
You share a moment that will never happen again, it is not possible to recreate, and it is not possible to explain to anyone else.
It just was.
And it was silence.

How can movement be silence? The fullness of silence is only experienced in certain moments. In moments when you are so invested in what is happening, that there is no room for any part of your brain to distract you. It is like a floating sensation of emotion; expressed through the simplicity of moving with another body, soul and spirit.

It is simple and complex at the same time.

You cannot experience it without caring for each other.
You are experiencing it together.
You are leading together.
Like sisters.
Sisters that have to be responsible together, responsible for each other and responsible for oneself.
Sisters that share, support, help and care.
A sister that is like yourself.
A sister that provides some things you are not.

A mirror is not a sister.
I can see something of myself within my sister.
In the mirror I can barely see a reflection of who I might be.
Not who I am.
Dancing with your sister is also dancing with a reflection.
A reflection of something you share within your hearts.
A hidden secret of something alike, of something different.

The mirror is not a friend.
It is just an image.
An imagination of someone you can never truly know.

What you can truly know, is the moment you share with someone else.
You might not completely understand it, later you might even forget it,
- neither can ever belittle its value.
The value of complete silence with another human.
The magic of the present.

Moments like these are rare.
All your attention is brought to the present.
It is magic.

When you share the intention of the movement, when you share the meaning of it, explore it and let it happen; whatever it is unfolds itself.
The movement unfolds itself and the echo of the silence remains.

And then we go home and everything is as it was before; just slightly different.

A Moment of Movement - duet by Nicole Victor & Maria Kristina Klungnes Berg. Photo: Jack Butler.