The Dark Cloak of Gravity

Gravity is greedy. It’s callous. It wants to pull you and everyone you love hard against the pavement until it bends and breaks and you fall right through.

You might not be aware of it, but you’re at war. You have been your whole life. Or at least you aren’t aware of it until you feel its dark cloak hanging over your shoulders. Making your legs heavy and your hips sag. Its sodden fabric scraping along the floor making it hard to move your feet. You’re fighting an enemy unrelenting in its pursuit of your conquest. That wants to inhale you into its lungs and swallow you into its stomach. Fuelling its insatiable desire for order.

There is no armistice here. Only an unequal bargain. An asymmetrical negotiation of flesh and bone versus force and Earth. Of expansion and freedom versus compression and coalescence. Movement is this fight. Barrages of shapes and patterns waged through time and space, attacking the ground with a fury against collapse.

Struggling bodies wilt, bending closer to stillness from a drought of disconnection. So you must learn the language of motion. You must connect sentences of newtons and torque - uttering defiant phrases of postures and positions breath by tedious breath. Balancing notes of on and off in a waltz of carefully timed tension. Followed by silence. Followed by tension. A rhythmic groove keeping you from a fate of fewer dimensions. 

Gravity - the body - the ground. Two are undefeated. We’ve got to manage the other.