There's a section in a work we're creating that we've coined "awakening." Without giving too much away, in this section we've often found ourselves going back to the fundamental how-tos of things.
We start with a task, then we dissect it– "how do I wake up?" leads to:
How much does the spine move in the early hours of the morning, when we're saturated in slumber? Do we stiffen in our sleep knowing, or remembering something is going happen the next day? How would my bones move differently if I'd been asleep for a hundred years?
We dissect it, then we follow–
If I've been asleep for hundreds of years, have my muscles atrophied? Would I be able to see or hear? Would it be sensorial overload, or would everything be duller than I remember? What are the things I would remember?
Then in true Brigette fashion, she asks us these same questions and layers the idea that we are submerged in water through all of this.
So then if we are underwater, are we able to breathe?
Strangely, everyone's answer is yes.
We draw out and sift through our answers and leave them in space to linger, taking only what serves. There's freedom knowing this is just the Research and Development phase of a work.