I know what he is saying, the mystic from long ago. When only living in the current moment, nothing is predictable, and everything is a possibility. He speaks words that come to him spontaneously. He speaks not from the mind, not from thinking. He simply is available to the moment, to what exists here and now. And what exists here and now is a mystery, an unknown to him.
When he speaks, it's a surprise to him as it is a surprise to his listeners. And he might not be able to repeat it again, for it is not he who is speaking. It doesn't come from memory, and it cannot be rehearsed or pre-conceived. And there is no recorded conscious memory of it. It bypasses all rationality. It comes from elsewhere, and it dissipates to everywhere.
And so it is in my dance. I can not know what will come next. I do not know which move will be expressed by my tiny hands and the piece of hair flying across my face. It is a mystery to me until the very moment that the movement shows itself in any part of the body it wants to, delighting me and my audience.
Just like the mystic, I can repeat myself or I may not. It is just a happening: unplanned, unexpected, natural, and unique. Unique to that moment and that moment only. I marvel and wait for what the next sound, the upcoming rhythm will pull out of my soul, which is what this is: a communication between the unseen.
