The Silence Here Has Changed

My dearest friend Anne passed away. An inexplicable loss. Immense sadness. Accompanied by endless love.

I never imagined writing about this in this blog of my trajectory, but silence and stillness are so present in this time, that the experiences affect me with their immediacy. It is also from the depth of intimacy that i work. The intimacy in this journey is beyond words, but i wish to share some from exactly that space.

In the last week especially, not knowing that this would be the last week, i often tuned into the deepest stillness that i can be in, to be close and to feel a sense of possibility and a sense of peace. 

Since her passing, i sometimes can’t breathe freely for a moment, as if there is momentarily not enough space for it in my body. Then it becomes quiet again. It changes the timing of my breathing.

Anne drew her last breath surrounded by love. A disease caused too many difficulties in her body to continue to live through it, yet Anne passed away consciously, her spirit alert, alive. I find this so powerful and, even if it feels somehow strange to say because of the intensity of the sadness, in this indescribable moment, i find it also inspiring; to be so fully aware while in this most intimate space. 

In the last days, her sister let me know she was free of pain due to medication and that she lay very quiet. I imagined her there. This quietness moved me deeply. It felt like a shift might be happening. 

A quietness that felt like it was meeting a vast stillness inside her somehow, to journey on. A profound shift.


1,5 day before she transitioned, her husband and sister shared that suddenly there was a moment where she spoke with clarity, insightful wisdom and simplicity. Her message was shared with us, like an encouraging and powerful gift. It seemed to me to have come from the deepest stillness, with immediacy and shared with incredible generosity. 

The power of simplicity and clarity. The wisdom of alive stillness out of which this can come. Immediacy. Generosity. The wish to share. These things that i talk about when i talk about dance. 

In the early night i had a dream with black smoke. I woke up from it, somewhat distressed. I felt something was different. I checked if there was a message. Anne’s sister let me know that she passed a few hours earlier. I stayed awake all night. This night was very very quiet. I felt so grateful for it being so. The quietness was vast and had a gentleness to it. My apartment felt open as if there was more air and yet it protected me in its gentleness. A quiet, gentle, open silence. 

When the night began to shift into day, i opened the curtains a bit to look outside. White mist. The black smoke was gone and white mist had moved in. The mist made the outside feel quiet too. As if hushing any unwanted sounds. As if asking for respect for Anne’s passing. A reverent silence.

Now she is moving on. The silence here has changed. To tune deeply into my physical body feels vulnerable as if with a fear of not feeling anything, of there not being anything, no aliveness. Or perhaps of feeling too much. Still, i risk it. I want to dance. Anne encouraged us to focus on what really matters. I feel the life force in my body, how strong it is, it simply being there. The wonder of this. I feel humbled and with a sense of emptiness realizing that it has left Anne’s physical body. Just when i am about to leave the studio, i find myself step into the middle of the space and start dancing. Wildly, light, fast footed, spine open and long. As if ‘i’ have nothing to do with it. As if being moved. 

I feel deeply humbled by Anne’s passing. There is nothing about it i can understand. She is profoundly missed. Still. I dance. 




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