The full throated sound of the berimbau calls to the roda. It's the fire in the cold of night and we are all drawn to its warmth. One berimbau invites two others.

 

The three are extensions of each other. Together, I cannot tell where one ends and the other begins. They create an energy more potent than could ever be created alone.

 

The circle of capoeiristas start to sing in unison. They offer a part of themselves to the building energy at the center of the roda. 

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A berimbau invites me to play and two of us sit at its foot. Capoeira cannot happen alone and my partner depends on me. I wish I could be what they need me to be.

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We are inches from each other, yet I find myself miles away. Too far to hear the music. 

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I do not have the capacity to be worthy of this moment. 

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The faintness of the berimbaus’ sound reaches me. Inviting me back. Supporting me. Gifting me its song. I wrap the music around me to help me escape myself. I look to my partner, shake their hand and our conversation begins.

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The music reverberates inside me and draws out movement. While I am still unsure of myself, I trust in the berimbau to show me what I cannot find on my own.

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Still, my every kick, escape and floreio are flawed, but they ignite a spark. A conversation of kicks turning into escapes and escapes into kicks. Taking and giving space. Oscillating between a playful dance and quick sharp movements. All shaped by who we are in this moment.

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Our connection flourishes from the soil seeded by the berimbau.