A meditation on the human resemblance to fire. Body heat fuels livelihood – and yet we still look to constrict ourselves. Like the flame confined to its corner, preexisting constructs define our psychosomatic expressions. What does ballet – a self-imposed structure–do other than contain the tangled soul?
Rigidity atrophies defenses against burn out, and the body wants to flow. We have the wrong system, so it’s hard to imagine. One can only hope to rise from the ashes.