(English version below)
埋在雪裡的種子
這個願望的種子是從2024年底種下的，埋在深雪裡。那時我獨自一人到奧地利的一個小村莊，住在阿爾卑斯山脈的山腳下。那一年的冬天是我第一次摸到真正的雪，第一次咀嚼小溪裡的冰柱，第一次行走在佈滿白雪的深山裡，我只聽得到自己的呼吸聲以及踩在雪上的步伐聲，偶然停下腳步，才發現整座山是如此的靜默，時間彷彿被凍結在白雪之下，萬物皆靜止，只有我渺小的身體不斷不斷地向上走著，為什麼我還在不斷移動呢？寂靜與靜止帶給我極大的喜悅，有時候什麼都不做就是最好的。「我要重新向大自然連結與學習」，我在日記本上大大的寫下這些字，這是我種在深雪裡的種子。
樹
回到德國柏林，2025年的第四天，Fu來家裡幫我頌缽，結束後，他說他感覺到窗前的松樹，並邀請他進入房間，松樹答應了，來到我的頭旁邊靜靜待著。我哭了，因為那是我每天向他說「早安」、「晚安」、「謝謝你陪伴我」的松樹。我跟Fu說我不確定是我自己的投射，還是我真的有連結到樹，Fu說，如果你覺得有連結，那就是有連結呀，相信這個感覺，繼續探索下去吧。
聖誕節過後的新年，路上到處都是聖誕樹的屍體，他們是失去根的樹，是被到處移動的樹。我騎著腳踏車在路上到處漫遊，每隔10公尺左右就會看到聖誕樹的屍體，一陣像是哀悼曲的旋律吹進我的腦袋，化為了口哨聲。我開始拍攝這些聖誕樹，像是在搜集他們臨終前的影像。我的鄰居和好友Marina回到柏林後的某天，我們在傍晚散步時遇到，一起走著、玩著路上的大賣場推車，然後我們看到了一棵巨大的聖誕樹屍體，我們和樹跳舞、躺在樹的枝幹裡，沈浸在針葉的香味中，最後我們把他裝進推車，一路推回宿舍後的庭院，我記得那晚好冷、好黑，但是我們卻汗流浹背，我們把他藏在兩棵大樹的後面，一直到春天工人來整理庭院，聖誕樹才消失。
一面巨大的落地窗矗立在我面前，由許多對開的玻璃門組成。沒有一扇是鎖著的。當我推開其中一扇門時，我意識到門外竟然是懸崖——遼闊的峽谷景色在我腳下展開。遠處，一道巨大的瀑布從寬闊平坦的岩台上傾瀉而下。瀑布前是許多扭曲的樹幹。我看見一個老人踉踉蹌蹌地走在那些樹幹上，拄著拐杖。他的身形搖晃，彷彿喝醉了一樣，好幾次差點摔下去。我驚慌地轉向周圍的人，告訴他們我所看到的一切，但所有人都很平靜。有人說：「那不是人，那是鬼。」當我再次看向瀑布的方向時，有十幾個人在樹幹上搖晃的走著。
「你睡得怎麼樣？」 Shabi醒來時我問他。
「我不記得了，但我沒有夢到瀑布。」他說。
2025.06.13
春天
春天，我和Marina、Sondre聚在柏林，冬天時我們常常在舞蹈系的工作室做即興表演，我們決定夏天時要一起開啟一段在挪威和克羅埃西亞的旅行，在森林與溪流之間共同創作。那時我們已經知道這段旅行會有許多紛爭，但我們還是決定要上路。
瀑布
磊「我昨天夢到你，我們去旅行，去有瀑布的地方。」
若「那個瀑布和周邊環境長怎樣，你可以描述一下嗎？」
磊「忘了，但應該是山上，有森林的瀑布。」
若「關於瀑布，我六月中的時候有夢到，但是是像尼加拉瓜大瀑布那樣。」
若「是台灣嗎？我們為什麼去旅行呀？夢裡是什麼心情？」
磊「心情是享受，為什麼有一點沒印象但好像是我去找你，你在瀑布下。」
若「這樣啊，啊我在瀑布下做什麼？」
磊「打坐。」
若「感覺之後某一天，會知道這些瀑布的夢是什麼意思，感覺會遇到類似的場景。」
2025.07.22
我騎著我的紅色腳踏車，來到一個透明又光滑的玻璃橋，橋里可以看見許多小魚和花的漂亮圖案，凱恩站在橋的對岸鼓勵我騎過去，有另一個和善的男子則是在引導大家騎過玻璃橋。我很害怕，一開始不敢騎，後來倒退衝刺騎上去，飛越玻璃橋，墜落時發現地板上其實有軟墊，很舒服，眼前是一個很高的瀑布。那我今天的關鍵字就是“Fall”&“Waterfall”，我坐在軟墊上，很開心的想著。
2025.07.31
醒來後我和Marina說了這個夢，那是我們在挪威的第一天早晨，他瞪大眼睛看著我，「兩週後我們要去的Slunj，我的家鄉，是個充滿瀑布的地方。」在此之前我對於Slunj完全沒有任何頭緒，只知道是Marina在克羅埃西亞長大的村莊，對我來說是一個完全陌生的地方。
「瀑布的墜落是很強大的能量，但他還是那同一條溪流，只是以不同的形式顯現而已，期待自己像溪一樣平靜流去的同時，也要允許自己有時像瀑布一樣墜落。」
挪威的森林
我們住在Sondre在挪威的家，是在奧斯陸森林裡的小木屋，從露台望出去是一大片的針葉森林，屋子裡沒有水的管線系統，每天都要去鄰居家提幾桶水回來，用來煮飯、洗碗，洗澡則是在陽台的塑膠浴缸中，在10度的星空下用燒好的熱水快速的清理身體。廁所在屋子外，用木屑覆蓋排泄物，滿了之後就要拿去倒。每做一件日常生活中的事情，都要花平常的兩倍時間，我們在奧斯陸的生活就從這些日常勞動開始。
向果實學習
高聳的樹木、昏暗的森林、厚實的苔蘚，每天遊走在森林裡，踏在一個又一個古老的巨石上。隨處可見野生的藍莓和覆盆莓，我們採了許多果實，將果實搗成泥，加入一些麵粉，做成了顏料，藍莓的顏色是暗紅的，覆盆梅則是濃稠的粉紅色，我還記得我那時聽著柯拉琪，在手臂上慢慢的畫上圖騰，也畫在Marina的臉上，從脖子到鎖骨，我劃下了根，一路到肚臍，是根的源頭。皮膚是果實附著的畫布，輕易的黏上皮膚，輕易的脫落消失。
Placing in the nature 擺放身體
什麼是在大自然中的舞蹈？要如何在自然中安放身體？從Marina發展的”placing”的概念，我們練習將身體順著地景、岩石的紋理擺放，想像與土地接觸的身體部分向下長出了根，所以其他的身體部分可以放心自由的移動，身體好像從來沒有感到如此穩定、貼近土地，感覺身體重心的引導，而進入下一個”placing”的姿勢與位置。那晚我們一起回看練習的影片，整個環境中本身就已經有許多的動態，我們的身體不是主角，只是整個場景的一小部分而已，所有在場的生物都是表演者，而我們是為了什麼而動呢？是身體跟隨環境而動，還是頭腦創造了動作？在這裏，我們可不可以停止創造，而是等待重力、風、蟲子給身體信號，進而移動？那天腿上很多瘀青，因為有時我的身體想對抗石頭，一對抗就會產生摩擦與瘀青，我要怎麼學習放掉自我，順著石頭紋理成為地景的一部分呢？
每一次的練習，移動都越來越慢、越來越少，第一次的三十分鐘我們移動了十次多次，到最後一次的三十分鐘，我們只移動了四次左右。大多時候我是閉上眼睛的，聽著呼吸與周遭的聲音，躺在同一個地方久了，蜜蜂、蟲子、螞蟻一個接一個地爬上身體，那是我放心感到成為地景一部分的時刻。
Korana給予身體療癒的力量，Slunjčica教會身體向寒冷投降
「河流Korana啊！你像母親一樣搖晃著Slunj這個村莊……。」
沿著Korana露營的那幾天晚上，我們圍著火，一起唱著這首歌。溫暖的Korana和冰冷的Slunjčica這兩條溪在村莊Slunj交會成一條河，就像是我和Marina共同創作的過程。跟隨著夢中的瀑布來到這裡，我們的創作，或者是更深的無法言說的東西，就在Slunj相遇，匯聚，融合。
“Why are you so big?”
“Why are you so small?”
每次我們偶然看到鏡中的反射，都會這樣問對方。這個創作過程，也是學習接受自己身體的過程。身體帶著羞恥、評價、控制、期待、創傷…….，用身體創作，是一次次的直面和跨越羞恥。擁有女性的身體，但我時常感到這個身體不只是我自己的，它匯集著從相異源頭一路流下來的，基因、家庭、文化、歷史、記憶，一層又一層的包裹在身體上。
Korana是一條有療癒力量的河，如果你身上有病痛或傷口，村民會告訴你，把自己泡進Korana裡吧！每天從上游走到下游，再從下游游到上游，總是會遇見相同的村民，在不同的河段享受他們與Korana的時光，一個又一個經過的片刻給我們源源不絕的靈感，後來我拍下Marina在河裡仰泳，一邊獨白著他自己與這條河的母系家族記憶，他說這是他第一次在這個父權結構堅實的小鎮述說這些；Marina則拍下我爬上河邊的大樹，帶著恐懼一躍而下，我才理解原來過去的自己一直都坐在樹上，並未真正鼓起勇氣進入情緒的河流動。
Slunjčica像寶石一樣的藍綠色，清澈見底，冰冷的程度是會刺痛皮膚與肌肉的，所以幾乎沒有人會在這裡游泳。那天我和Marina頂著大太陽走到河邊，我們決定要跳下去，他從來沒有跳進這條河，面對那樣的溫度的確是需要很大的勇氣，我們一躍而下，在水裡瘋狂的游，直到寒冷已經逼得我快無法呼吸，才衝上岸躺在草地上，身體被一層厚厚的冰塊包裹著，在大太陽下完全感覺不到熱，外層的冰塊慢慢的、慢慢地融化，直到皮膚感覺到太陽，整個身體都融化了，一點一點的陷進土地裡。這是身體學習向寒冷投降的過程。
自然不會評價身體，身體是自然的一部分
要離開的前一天，我們決定再去河邊一次。那是一個無人的、下著陰雨的早晨，我們決定在這個保守的小鎮，褪去衣物，將赤裸的身體擺放在河床上，冰冷的河水輕柔的沖刷著身體，我還不清楚身體那一層、又一層，跟著河水而去的是什麼，但當我們的身體從承受著水的沖刷，到跟著河的流一起向前時，彷彿許多包裹在外的都褪去了，彷彿我能觸摸到身體貌似本質的內裡。而我們身體的原初是河流、是大地、是自然的一部分。
河流沒有一秒鐘是相同的，每一秒鐘都是新的變化與組成，如同我們的身體，如同我們的生命。
不知道這個創作會帶我們去哪裡？但我們願意順著河流前行。
The seed buried in snow
This wish-seed was planted at the end of 2024, buried in deep snow. At that time I went alone to a small village in Austria, living at the foot of the Alps. That winter was the first time I touched real snow, the first time I chewed on icicles from a stream, the first time I walked through snow-filled mountains. All I could hear was my own breathing and the sound of my footsteps in snow. When I stopped, I realized how silent the whole mountain was. Time seemed frozen under the snow. Everything was still, except for my small body, moving and moving upward. Why was I still moving? Silence and stillness gave me immense joy. Sometimes doing nothing at all is best.
“I want to reconnect with nature and learn from it.” I wrote these words in big letters in my journal. That was the seed I planted in the deep snow.
Tree
Back in Berlin, on the fourth day of 2025, Fu came to my home for a sound-bowl session. Afterward, he said he felt the pine tree by the window, and invited it to come into the room. The pine agreed, and came to rest quietly beside my head. I cried, because that was the tree to whom I said “Good morning,” “Good night,” and “Thank you for keeping me company” every day. I told Fu I wasn’t sure if it was just my projection, or if I had truly connected with the tree. Fu said, “If you feel there’s a connection, then there is. Trust that feeling. Keep exploring.”
After Christmas and into the New Year, the streets were full of Christmas tree corpses. They were uprooted trees, carried around and displaced. I wandered the streets on my bicycle, and every ten meters or so I saw another tree’s corpse. A melody like a funeral song blew into my head, turning into a whistle. I began photographing these trees, as if collecting their final moments. When my neighbor and dear friend Marina returned to Berlin, one evening we met during a walk. We played with an abandoned supermarket cart, then came upon a massive Christmas tree corpse. We danced with the tree, lay in its branches, sank into the scent of pine needles. At last we loaded it into the cart and pushed it back to the courtyard behind the dorms. I remember that night was so cold, so dark, yet we were drenched in sweat. We hid the tree behind two large ones, and it stayed there until spring, when the workers cleared the yard and the tree was gone.
A massive floor-to-ceiling window stood before me, made of many glass doors. None were locked. When I pushed one open, I realized that outside was a cliff—the vast view of a canyon opened at my feet. In the distance, a great waterfall poured down from a wide flat rock plateau. In front of the waterfall were many twisted tree trunks. I saw an old man staggering across those trunks, leaning on a cane. His body swayed as if drunk, nearly falling several times. I turned in alarm to the people around me, telling them what I saw, but they all stayed calm. Someone said: “That’s not a person, that’s a ghost.” When I looked back toward the waterfall, there were now a dozen people swaying on the trunks.
“How did you sleep?” I asked Shabi when he woke up.
“I don’t remember. But I didn’t dream of the waterfall,” he said.
2025.06.13
Spring
In spring, I gathered with Marina and Sondre in Berlin. During winter, we often improvised in the dance department studio. We decided that in summer we would start a journey in Norway and Croatia, creating together in forests and streams. We already knew there would be many conflicts on this journey, but still, we chose to go.
Waterfall
Lei: “I dreamt of you yesterday. We were traveling, to a place with a waterfall.”
Ruo: “What did the waterfall and surroundings look like? Can you describe it?”
Lei: “I forgot, but it must have been in the mountains, a waterfall in the forest.”
Ruo: “I dreamt of a waterfall too, in mid-June. But it was like Niagara Falls.”
Ruo: “Was it Taiwan? Why were we traveling? What was the feeling in the dream?”
Lei: “The feeling was enjoyment. I don’t remember why, but it seemed I came to find you, you were under the waterfall.”
Ruo: “Oh? What was I doing under the waterfall?”
Lei: “Meditating.”
Ruo: “I feel like one day we’ll know what these waterfall dreams mean, we’ll encounter such a scene.”
2025.07.22
I rode my red bicycle to a smooth, transparent glass bridge. Inside the bridge were patterns of fish and flowers. On the other side, Kane encouraged me to ride across, and another kind man was guiding people over. I was scared, at first I didn’t dare, then I pedaled backward and sprinted forward, flying over the bridge. When I fell I found there were soft mats on the ground. It was comfortable. Before me was a tall waterfall. My keywords that day became “Fall” and “Waterfall.” Sitting on the mats, I thought joyfully.
2025.07.31
After waking, I told Marina about this dream. It was our first morning in Norway. He widened his eyes: “Two weeks later we’ll go to Slunj, my hometown. It’s full of waterfalls.” Until then, I knew nothing about Slunj, only that it was the Croatian village where Marina grew up. To me it was a completely unfamiliar place.
“The fall of a waterfall is powerful energy, yet it’s still the same stream, just appearing in another form. While I hope to flow calmly like a stream, I must also allow myself to fall like a waterfall.”
Norwegian forest
We stayed in Sondre’s home in Norway, a small cabin in the Oslo forest. From the terrace we looked out on a vast pine forest. There was no plumbing inside. Every day we carried buckets of water from the neighbor’s house for cooking and washing. Baths were on the balcony in a plastic tub, using boiled hot water under the ten-degree starlit sky. The toilet was outside, covering waste with sawdust, later carrying it away. Every task of daily life took twice as long. Our life in Oslo began with these labors.
Learning from fruit
Towering trees, dim woods, thick moss. Every day I roamed the forest, stepping from one ancient stone to another. Wild blueberries and raspberries grew everywhere. We gathered them, crushed them, mixed with flour, made pigment. Blueberries gave a dark red, raspberries a thick pink. I remember listening to Collage, painting totems slowly on my arm, on Marina’s face, from my neck to my collarbones, drawing roots to the navel, the source. Skin became the canvas where fruit easily clung, then easily fell away.
Placing in the nature
What is dance in nature? How do we place the body within it? From Marina’s concept of “placing,” we practiced aligning the body with the textures of the land and stone, imagining roots sprouting from where we touched the ground, freeing the rest of the body to move. My body had never felt so stable, so close to the earth. I felt the center of gravity guiding me into the next “placing.” That night we reviewed the video of our practice. The environment itself was already full of motion. Our bodies were not the protagonists, but a small part of the scene. All beings present were performers. Were we moving because our bodies followed the environment, or because the mind created movement? Could we stop creating, and instead wait for signals from gravity, wind, insects to move us?
That day my legs were covered with bruises, because my body sometimes resisted the stone. Resistance created friction, bruises. How could I learn to let go of self, to follow the stone’s lines, to become part of the landscape?
With each practice, movement grew slower, less. The first thirty minutes we moved more than ten times; by the last, only four. Most of the time I closed my eyes, listening to breath and sounds. Lying long enough in one place, bees, bugs, ants climbed over my body. That was the moment I felt I could trust myself as part of the landscape.
Korana gives the body healing power, Slunjčica teaches the body to surrender to cold
“O River Korana! You rock the village of Slunj like a mother…” At night we camped by the Korana, singing this song around the fire. Warm Korana and icy Slunjčica joined in the village of Slunj to become one river, just like Marina and I in our creation. Guided by the dream of the waterfall, we came here, where something deeper than words met and merged.
“Why are you so big?”
“Why are you so small?”
Each time we saw each other’s reflection, we asked this. This process of creation was also a process of accepting the body. The body carries shame, judgment, control, expectation, trauma… To create with the body is to face and pass through shame again and again. Having a woman’s body, yet often feeling it is not only mine—it gathers genes, family, culture, history, memory, layer upon layer wrapped around it.
Korana is a healing river. If you are sick or wounded, the villagers tell you: bathe in it. Every day we walked downstream and swam back upstream, meeting the same villagers in different parts of the river, each encounter giving us endless inspiration. I filmed Marina floating on his back, monologuing about his matrilineal memory with the river. He said it was his first time speaking of this in his patriarchal hometown. Marina filmed me climbing a riverside tree, leaping down in fear. I realized I had always been sitting on the tree, never truly daring to enter the flowing river of emotions.
Slunjčica was gem-like blue-green, clear as crystal, so cold it pierced skin and muscle. Almost no one swam there. One blazing day, Marina and I walked to the river and decided to jump. He had never done it before. Facing that cold took courage. We plunged, swam wildly until the cold nearly stole my breath, then rushed ashore to lie in the grass. My body felt wrapped in ice, unable to feel the sun. Slowly the ice melted, until heat reached my skin, my whole body dissolved, sinking into the land. This was the process of surrendering to cold.
Nature does not judge the body. The body is part of nature
The day before we left, we went back to the river. It was a rainy gray morning, and no one else was there. In this conservative town, we stripped off our clothes and laid our bare bodies on the riverbed. The cold water washed gently over us. I don’t yet know what peeled away, layer by layer, with the river’s flow. But when our bodies shifted from resisting the water to flowing with it, it felt as if many wrappings fell away. I could touch something like the essence within. The origin of the body is river, earth, nature. The river is never the same for even a second—every moment it transforms, just like our bodies, just like our lives. I don’t know where this creation will take us, but we are willing to follow the river forward.