| It’s 2.13 pm. Suddenly a stillness falls on the room. We are sitting in a circle on the floor linking hands. Out of the corner of my eye I see two pairs of feet and notice one pair moving almost imperceptibly towards the other. I realize the director is drawing closer to support the protagonist in what could be a life-changing moment. The action is moving to a deeper level – psychodrama is alive and in session!
In another psychodrama, Mary and Craig sit side by side on chairs facing the rest of the group. She breathes calmly; her neck and shoulders are a picture of courageous dignity. He is searching for an entry point into her drama – where are you, Mary? Who else is here? What do you see? Soon I ‘m in Mary’s drama; the beach she is walking on, the sea, the gulls. She warms up to an experience of loss and my inner world stirs awake. Tightness spreads through my chest. I want to hunch down and make myself as small as possible. Invisible. I want to cry for what I have lost too. And in this grief, there is also a strange beauty. What connects us all?
As I reflect on my experiences of psychodrama during the past two years, I see what has been offered to me – an amazing opening up of inner space that allows creativity to re-enter my life and find its own expression.
Through psychodrama I can move on. I speak with the characters and symbols I recognize from my own life, putting them on stage and moving them around. I write my own script and create new endings for my dramas. I open doors and traverse corridors where bleakness and despair become hope and acceptance. As birds, trees and wind come alive and interact, I feel something crack open. I am letting others in. It is as if I am transcending my humanity to reach my divinity. I am with others in a safe and supportive way. Music connects us all. We dance together and allow ourselves to connect and move, always following the thread that binds us, yet also gives us this freedom.
Dream, Nov 2017: “I am in a big old mansion looking out the window. It’s raining. There is a faint sound of music from somewhere behind me. My friend M appears and suddenly we’re dancing together, holding hands, under a high portico. Now we’re outside, dancing in the rain . . . I’m happy, amused, and astonished . . .”
Do you believe our dreams can show our potential for joy? Can Psychodrama point the way? Maybe we’ll meet on that journey – let’s keep open to this connection.
Bev Rosevear-Kaho
Foundations of Psychodrama (first year) trainee in Auckland |
