Spiritual Waters, or Navigating Our Own Blockades of the Creative Life
July in Orlando. The air, dense with moisture, erupts into a downpour nearly every afternoon. Puddles swell, parking lots flood. The water sloshes onto the thin fabric of my dance pants as I hurry into the Winter Park Community Center, where I meet up with other members of Gypsy Sa’har; the center has a full-size dance studio, available to residents free of charge. We’re gathered to practice the routines we learned in spring, a lively tambourine number and graceful Persian dance, as well as a new choreography involving vases called, “Spiritual Waters.” The song and steps are slow, earthy and ethereal at once; as we stride onstage, jugs balanced atop our heads, kneel, and scoop from an imaginary river, the imagery conjures up the classical. In becoming the water- maidens, we evoke something often forgotten in our modern lives — a reverence for water as the element that sustains life and refreshes us, the age-old symbol of rebirth.
When our dance instructor, Suspira, announced two months ago that we’d be learning “Spiritual Waters” for our upcoming summer show, I have to admit I felt a pang of reluctance. I prefer drum solos and faster, upbeat numbers; the original “Spiritual Waters” was among the first routines I’d seen performed a few years ago, one I’d deemed mellow, verging on boring. How quickly we judge, label, and cast aside, not only in art but in life, rather than take a closer look and give something worthwhile a fair chance.
I used to plot my escape from Florida summers — first in graduate school, when I saved up money from waiting tables for family trips to Europe, or study abroad sojourns like the Prague Summer Program, or the month I spent in Paris, studying French. Who wants to spend summer in Florida, in the oppressive heat, getting drenched every afternoon? I thought; this is the generally accepted view, after all. I’ve heard people say that summer is Florida’s winter, everyone shut up inside, A/C blasting, half the neighborhood away on vacation, the mood dull, even depressing.
Yet over the past few summers, and especially this one, I have learned to embrace Florida’s summer and what it brings, not only through dance, but writing. The rainy season is like winter, yes, in that what it offers is the opportunity to delve inside for longer…
