Call In to Call Out | liberating


Assaf seated on a chair facing the wall, on a corner, he started to play a very quiet and somehow sad chord. I started walking around the cocoon, slowly. Assaf whistled once or twice slowly too, with a long pause in between the whistling and I started grabbing the red threads, one by one to hand them to the ceremony participants.

I went around the shadow, Assaf still whistling and playing this melancholic tune. Some threads, shorter, forced the holders to get closer. All kept silent, the silence playing with the guitare's notes. 

When all the threads were given or rather when each one had one, Assaf, still back to the assembly, whistled like a bird and then stopped. This time the silent was complete. I clapped my hands et all  pulled. I didn’t take a thread, I was shaking without being able to stop. I leaned against the wall but my knees were knocking together. The cocoon swang in all directions, flying from right to left , taking in its dance its shadow. We only heard the cristalline chock of the glass hitting the floor.  It took few minutes for it to calm down and refocus. Writing this tears come back to my eyes.

Assaf turned around, his chair now facing the nest. He continued waiting seconds that seemed like minutes and started playing again his chord and very slowly stood up. The tempo slightly changed, from the deepest of his body, in a grave and bass voice, he offered us a song about love, shadows and future. He started to move, to slowly go around the nest. By the diagonal of the door, he turned off to it, still very slowly. Someone understood and opened the door.He exited.

We kept silent. Before the ceremony started, I had asked all of us to meditate about our transformations. I guess they all were far within themselves. When they finally got out from this  unknown place they applauded. When Assaf came back the applauded lauder.
They all picked pieces of glass laying on the floor, maybe to hold the moment. Cocoon sloughs, souvenirs, traces of a collective emancipation.

I  tried to  collect the red threads. Some of them having already be part of Passages à l’âme in 2013. They were hanging the « Cris » x-rays, a call for outside help. They were facing a bird carrying his nest under his wing, symbolizing the inner mother, the self caring. Three years later the threads liberated the cocoon and took it to the Call Out nest.

Eli told me that during the ceremony he was worried of the power I was, through the thread,  giving him to destroy. It  was meeting a fantasy a lot have facing fragility. But if he had pulled alone on the string, he would only have agitated the cocoon, making tinkling the glass threads together.
The common will and action, allowed to go over the limits. Instead of destruction it became a liberation because this was our intention.

Our power is great and our responsabilités too.

Cocoon shadow's Photogram



Published the 22/12/2016

Linked categories