Between the Lines

When I think about some of my favorite moments at Prescott College so far, it’s easy to think of the loud ones: a particularly awesome party, that time Morgoth tried to get all of the incoming students to sing the “baby shark song,” the games I’ve played in classes, the things I’ve heard from other PC students about the cool things they’ve done in class, all of these things are quick to bubble to the surface of my mind.  After those bubbles have popped, though, I’m left with the quiet—though by no means less powerful—moments I’ve had here.

On a climb at Thumb Butte with some friends last fall, after we’d all gotten to the top we sat up there for a little while.  Looking north toward Granite Mountain, I could see the dry hills around Prescott stippled with cacti, the rolling valley in which the town sits, and the huge basin beyond, with its far off canyon walls.  You can only say “oh my god, this is beautiful” so many times before you realize that it will never be enough, eventually giving up and letting the breeze do the talking.

My winter block class was a sense of place reading and writing workshop, so the poems and fiction/nonfiction works we created were influenced heavily by the settings in which they took place.  We drove out to Groom Creek one day to spend some time writing in the field, drawing straight from our surroundings.  We scrambled over boulders, splashing along the edge of the stream still covered with ice in some places, and eventually settled into our own little spaces to write.  I found myself leaning against a huge rock, leaning my head back, listening to the stream and the wind in the leaves overhead.  I thought about my childhood in the woods of Minnesota, playing in streams and pine forests very similar to this one.  The poem I wrote was good enough, but my biggest benefit from that place was the silence I was able to experience.

Yesterday, I decided I would do some homework out in my backyard.  I unrolled my yoga mat over the sandy dirt and took a minute to sit in silence before starting my assigned reading.  I listened to the mourning dove who always sings outside my kitchen window, to the lizards scrambling through the dry grass (like me, they wanted to stretch out in the sun), to the cars driving up and down the busy street two blocks over. 

It’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of college, where semesters are packed with that dance, that show, that movie, that speaker, that class, that project, that paper, and that job.  And don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some wonderful, noisy, joyful, busy times, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.  But because I’ve had those quiet moments to reflect, to think about how lucky I am to have those moments bursting with energy, I’m able to truly appreciate it all—quiet and loud, hectic and calm, with friends and with myself.

View from the top of Thumb Butte, looking toward Granite Mountain in the distance

I Am a Dancer

When registering for classes during my first semester at Prescott College, I was overwhelmed by all the interesting classes available. I was particularly curious about the Beginning Dance and Improvisation course. I found myself torn because I loved to dance but was doubtful of the nature of an improvisation class and skeptical to enroll because dance has nothing to do with my major. Thankfully, I took my academic advisor’s advice and enrolled in the class anyways. I could not have made a better decision.

Performing "The Grid" exercise.  We could only move in right angles.

I cannot describe how much I learned throughout the course of dance class. Right from the beginning, my classmates and I were challenged to maintain a deep connection with our bodies. Every class brought on a new challenge whether it was learning to move around the room blindfolded, turning poetry into motion, or mirroring others in their dancing. It was incredible to see our individual movements come to life without being taught any techniques or choreography. We were discovering how to move for ourselves while dancing to our own unique rhythms. Every day I emerged from class feeling great both mentally and physically.

Dancing to live drumming at community lunch.  Everyone could join in!

One of the best feelings that resulted from taking Dance and Improvisation was realizing that I was utilizing principles from class in every day life. I found myself turning to dance as something therapeutic whenever I was stressed. I had less pains and aches because I was more in tune with my body and what I needed to do to better care for it. I had more confidence whenever the urge to dance would come over me and was no longer afraid to be the first person on the dance floor.

Doing a spiral dance in the town square during Halloween

Because dance class allowed for so much in depth discussion and sharing, my classmates and I developed a strong bond. It was very reassuring to be surrounded by people who fully supported one another. I never felt self-conscious dancing in front of my classmates and I was always encouraged to be authentic in my words and movements. As sad as it was to see the class come to an end, I am thankful that we all still keep in touch and continue to have epic dance sessions whenever the moment strikes.

An edit of us in a "Flocking" exercise

There are many things I hope will define me during my time here at Prescott College. For now, I can revel in the fact that amongst everything else, I am a dancer. I will always reflect back at my time in dance class and remember how it allowed me to feed my hunger for creativity, community, self-awareness, and expression. It is that same hunger which allows us to continually grow and evolve into the people we are meant to be. That is the gift that Prescott College gives and I am excited for all of you to take advantage of it.

The whole class after our final performance

~Renee Daniel, 02/2012