Brittle Sisters Bardo

The Brittle Sisters: the Bardo
Choreography: Helen Thorsen
Dancers: Mary Cutrera, Helen Thorsen, Cara Ross Berman, Erica Howard
On the shortest day of the year- the winter Solstice in a 5000-year-old prehistoric chamber in Ireland a soul is hanging from the ceiling on a thin silver cord, beneath buried in the ground is a beating heart. 13,000 years ago, in Mexico lay the bones of 16-year-old girl who died lost in a deep cave looking for water. The rising sun on the Winter Solstice enters to the back of the Irish chamber and the Mexican cave and the light in the darkness bringing the possibility of souls finding their way.

Photo: Dymitry Artamonov

Consciousness

Cara Ross Berman

Cara Ross Berman

“The true spiritual urge or yearning is always an invitation beyond the mind. That’s why it’s always been said that if you go to God, you go naked or you don’t go at all. It’s the same for everybody. You go in free of your accumulated knowledge, or you are forever unable to enter.
When you stop holding on to all the knowledge, then you start to enter a different dimension. You move into a dimension where experience inside gets very quiet. The mind may still be there chatting in the background or it might not, but consciousness is no longer bothering itself with the mind… Your awareness just goes right past that wall of knowledge and moves into a very quiet state.
In this quietness, you realize that you don’t know anything simply because you aren’t looking back to the mind for it’s acquired knowledge. This quietness is a mystery to the mind. It is something unknown. As you go into depth, you literally go into deeper experience of what seems to be a great mystery… The mystery just keeps opening to itself…” Adyashanti

For Cara, Vanessa, and Jeanie

GooselandingA Celebration of Life
If I Die–Pablo Neruda
IfI die, survive me with such sheer force
that you awaken the furies of the pallid and the cold,
from south to south lift your indelible eyes,
from sun to sun dream through your singing mouth,
I don’t want your laughter or your steps to waver,
I don’t want y heritage of joy to die.
Don’t call upmy person. I am absent.
Live in my absence as if in a house.
Absence is a house so vast
that inside you will pass through it’s walls
and hang pictures on the air
Absence is a house so transparent
that I, lifeless, will see you, living,
and if you suffer, my love,I will die again.