On July 13th, I participated in Tree of Life, a movement ritual led by Wendy Jehlen, Artistic Director of Anikaya, at the Boston Center for the Arts. The gathering was part of her ongoing Sacred Spaces and Mass Movement series—projects that explore how embodied practice can respond to urgent social, political, and ecological questions.
We were ten people.
I didn’t know anyone besides Wendy.
We acknowledged each other with a smile—no questions asked.
Race, religion, background—none of that seemed to matter.
What brought us together was simple: a shared love for movement.
We began with basic movement games, learning to listen—not just with the ears, but with the entire body. We practiced phrases that echoed the life of trees: swaying in the wind, bracing against a storm, standing calm in stillness.
We tuned into each other’s rhythms.
When someone moved, the group responded.
When someone paused, we honored the stillness.
There were no commands, no choreography—only collective listening. Motion rippled, stillness settled, all unfolding organically.
At one point, we scattered, moving wide across the space.
Gradually—perhaps intuitively—we gathered again.
As one person came to stillness, the rest of us followed.
Without a word, the room settled into silence together.
This wasn’t a performance. It wasn’t a rehearsal.
It was an act of shared attention—a quiet communion among strangers, rooted in the simple act of moving and pausing together.
In Tree of Life, I was reminded that community isn’t always about sameness.
Sometimes, it’s about listening deeply.
Moving together. Stopping together.
And in that shared stillness—finding connection. Together
This is what social justice in the arts looks like.