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Seismic Shifts

ccpj97

Glacier
Glacier

Seismic shifts happened during my creative trip to Almaty, Kazakhstan, running clown workshops, facilitating therapeutic paper art, performing Alarch | Swan and teaching students at the Zhurgenov Kazakh National Academy of Arts. I remember waiting at the transfer rail station in UK, on my journey to Heathrow Airport, when the snow was just beginning to fall. I arrived in Kazakhstan with my snow boots on and my host, Oleg said “Clare, there is no snow” to which I responded “oh, it’ll come”. It did, and it was beautiful.


In between the first two clown workshops I had a day off. That night there was a big earthquake. Initially I thought the neighbours were having a passionate time, as the bed was moving forward and back, then I realised the whole building was moving! Objects on the table started to fall off in this almighty earth tremor … I was snug in bed, and heard people going down the stairs. I kept still, wondering what to do and decided to stay and let it pass. There was a second tremor in the early hours …. I remember thinking “this is how mountains are formed” and being surrounded by them, it felt pretty amazing.


The next morning I made contact with my hosts, whom I discovered had tried to make contact with me through the night, advising me to sleep in my clothes and be ready to evacuate the building - but I slept with my mobile turned off! They were anxious about me and the whole situation. I arrived at the venue for the second workshop and we spent time acknowledging what had happened and how people were. Most people had never experienced anything like this. I acknowledged the seismic shifts of the earth and their effects upon everyone, adding that this was perhaps a warm up call from the earth to the participants, as they may well experience some internal seismic shifts throughout the workshop. There were indeed some big shifts and it was beautiful to witness over the coming days.



On my day off, at the end of this second workshop, I yearned to go to the mountains, to get some clean air and more specifically, to visit a small glacier … I dithered for a while, wondering if it was sensible with my busy schedule … The city was in thick fog, I had run out of data for my phone, so couldn’t check weather in the mountains. I took a risk and caught the bus and ski lifts to the mountain top, where there was blue sky. I took in the views, then thought perhaps it was sensible to just sit and rest. As I turned, a figure passed by me with an old branch for a walking stick. We clocked each other. She went on, then stopped at the path towards the glacier and turned, shouting something in Russian.  I thought she was talking to someone behind me, but realised there was nobody there. I replied (in Russian) that I didn’t speak the language. In English, she asked “where are you going?”. I said I wanted to see the glacier, but had no walking poles and it was too late and …. “Come on, we can get there, I come here every Friday, let’s go”. She was fast, like a mountain goat and quite a bit older than me (and I’m no spring chicken). I felt heavy and slow and didn’t want to hold her back. She refused my excuses. The snow was deep and in front of us was a very steep hill to climb. I mean steep. I turned my feet outwards to stop slipping, as I clambered up, and at times was on all fours. She asked a couple to lend me a walking pole, which they kindly did - they were on the same journey.


As I got higher, I froze in utter fear - I had to traverse the slope, which was now slippery after people descending on their bottoms. This woman sat at the top and shouted to me “Come on Clare, don’t think, move. What are you scared of?” “Errr … falling back down. I’m petrified!” I literally was. “Don’t think!” She asked some people to help me, but they ignored her. I thought of the workshops I’d just been holding and the participants’ fears, their vulnerabilities. Of how we were together on their journeys, me holding the space and encouraging/provoking them - and watching the transformations of each individual, managing to take themselves out of the places of fear and being stuck, petrified, to a world of freedom, laughter, tears, flow.


A voice inside me said “look how they overcame their fear, they were shaking, but they DID it, and remember how free they felt afterwards. Come on Clare, they did it, you can. Come on!” I took a deep breath and crossed quickly, recovered and continued up. It was not over then, we had a way to go. Again I tried to say “you go on, I’ll wait for you”. “No, you’ve come so far, we’ve got to get there”. And eventually we did, and how incredible this glacier was! I was so hot under all my layers, and knew I couldn’t stay still for too long, as it was pretty cold up there. A snowstorm was coming in over the horizon, the light was fading and the ski lift was shortly due to close. My mountain goat companion assured me “They won’t leave us here, I promise”. I was now scared of being stuck on top of the mountain, with only a phone for light. We moved fast. And then … the descent of that very steep hill. My companion led the way, showing me how to steer ourselves down, descending on our bottoms. She went first, in a flurry of snow. I was so scared, but knew this was the only way and we had very little time. I prayed to the spirit of the mountain, to the ravens above, relaxed my breath and body and let go. I found myself letting sounds out as I bumped over rocks and toning a high note. Sounding felt like it was releasing the fear and soothed me. I was using my feet and pole to steer, I couldn’t really see, and was travelling very fast - I passed her stick but didn’t have time to grab it. And then, I saw her sitting in the snow at the bottom. I ended up behind her, legs astride, laughing ecstatically, so utterly relieved to be alive. We both lay back looking up at the sky, then hastened to make the last part of the journey to the lift. The young couple who had lent me their walking pole were in front of us, and they still waited for us. I gave their pole back with such gratitude. On to the lift … yes, he refused us, saying we could walk down the mountain. In Kazakh, my companion implored him - and we were allowed to get on. We descended, lying flat out on the seats opposite each other. BB (mountain goat) admitted she had been scared. At the middle stage of the mountain descent, we opened our flasks of tea, sat and drank. I asked her how she came to speak such fluent English … “I am a retired seismologist”. I laughed so loud, and laughed again … after the earthquake (only the second I’ve felt in my life), the journeys of all the people in the clown workshops, and this momentous journey to the glacier … !!!

“What did you think of the earthquake last week?” she asked, I replied that when I realised what it was, I had rumblings of fear, but stayed cwtched up in bed, whilst realising this is how mountains are made. She laughed, patting me on the back with Молодец! (Well done).



I had the hottest bath once I got back to the apartment and slept so well. The next day was spent creating a safe space with @art_therapy_almaty, making paper art together and physical movement, sharing my film Llif | Flow and our life experiences. Some of the women had made new lives in Kazakhstan after leaving Russia, and combined with leaving their homeland and protecting their children, were also living with physical illness and chemotherapy, as were other women in the group. All of these conditions were creating seismic shifts in their lives and this became apparent in the paper art they made. This day, filled with sharing and listening to each other, supporting and encouraging, laughing and crying was so nurturing for us all. Once again, the power of creativity to transform lives, right there, right here, right then, right now. Thank you so much @katipaapai and @art_therapy_almaty.





And then to the next day, teaching young students at the T Zhurgenov Kazakh National Academy of Arts. Wow!! So many students, so eager to learn and full of young life (here were the spring chickens!!). What a joy to break lots of rules, to play and expand. Thank you for the opportunity to have this time together @oner_akadmiasy.



And, no surprise, on my last night in Almaty, I performed Alarch, literally the Swan Song for my visit, in the most beautiful theatre space created by Transforma Theatre, @transforma.kz. I was lucky to have spent time there, because I heard that shortly afterwards, Transforma were moved on, as the building was sold to a developer. But on that night, I performed, with my paper Birch Bark costume, to a full house, and afterwards, we had a Q&A that went on for literally hours. So much to talk about, so much to share. Thank you to everybody who came and shared their curiosity, experiences and knowledge with me. And especially to @aruzhan_satenova for your awesome translation skills on some in-depth topics that we explored. I will write more about this separately, because I really felt Alarch came home in Kazakhstan, with the spirit of Umay. Galiya, thank you for all you share with me @skazki_umay.


Alarch | Swan
Alarch | Swan

I was positively shaken in Almaty, with the internal and external seismic shifts of loss, fear, challenges, wonder, joy, exhilaration, exhaustion, love for this earth, for the people I shared time with. And deep love for the knowledge that sometimes it takes a shaking to open channels for growth, and it isn’t necessarily easy or (initially) pleasant. The birthing of physical mountains, of our internal mountains is epic …



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