Theatre That Reconnects: A Journey Back to Aliveness

A reflective piece by Coralie Gervaise

I didn’t know what I was stepping into when I joined Theatre That Reconnects,

facilitated by Uri Noy Meir. To be honest, I was skeptical. The idea of doing theatre

over Zoom? With strangers? It sounded a bit distant and abstract. But as the

sessions unfolded, something very real cracked open—not just in the screen space,

but within me.

Uri Noy Meir is a cross-cultural innovation expert and social artist with over a decade

of experience in group facilitation. He is the founder of Theatre That Reconnects, an

arts-based methodology inspired by Joanna Macy’s Work That Reconnects. This

approach is designed to foster deep connections with ourselves, each other, and the

natural world. Uri’s work integrates practices from Theatre of the Oppressed, Social

Presencing Theatre, and Dragon Dreaming, aiming to empower individuals and

communities for systemic transformation.

The first session, we began this journey with the question: What is the energy of a

ball? A childlike game, but underneath it, a deeper metaphor. Theatre is energy in

motion—presence passed from one being to another. As we passed that imaginary

ball, we were already exchanging something: our attention.

Session by session, we danced, we listened, we paused. We tuned into our bodies

in ways I hadn’t done in so long. Lying on the ground, asking not what should I do,

but what does my body want to do? Sometimes the answer was movement.

Sometimes it was stillness. After one dance, the only word I had was honey. That’s

what it felt like: golden, slow, viscous presence.

We spoke of the Gift. Where can we find it? In a conversation, in a memory, in a

moment of silence with nature. I remembered dancing as a child, losing myself to

Janet Jackson and David Guetta in the living room, the same way I now find joy in

writing poetry and forest walks.

Then came The Wound. We honored pain—not just ours, but the world’s. Through

the Truth Mandala, we spoke from stone, from dry leaves, from bowls. Each object

held an emotion: fear, sorrow, confusion, anger. And somehow, speaking from these

elements made it easier to speak truth. There was no performance. Just presence.

Raw and unfiltered.

What struck me most was the permission to not prepare. No mental gymnastics. I

found myself listening with closed eyes, letting the voices of others land inside me.

There was something sacred in that. We weren’t connecting through names or

resumes—we hadn’t even introduced ourselves properly. We were connecting

through humanity.I remember thinking: It’s funny—I feel so close to these people

even though I don’t know anything about them. And that’s exactly why the

connection felt so true. No stories. Just presence.

Then came the Rainbow Stuck exercise—a moment that blew my mind. Each of us

represented a blockage in someone else’s life by forming a physical statue with our

bodies. Others looked at us and spoke one word. That’s all. And yet, the words I

received pierced me with shocking precision. Like my own soul was speaking back

to me through the group.Theatre, as we practiced it, was a way back into my whole

self—a way of embodying what words alone can’t say. And we played, there was joy.

Lightness. I didn’t have to be someone. No performance. Just truth.

Later sessions brought even deeper work. The Voices Sculpture, for

example—where we embodied internal and external voices that limit our joy. The

voice that says, You’ll never be free. The voice that says, You’re too much. And

then, the softer voice that whispers, Come play. It’s beautiful outside. Let love in.

We explored the Dream, too—our collective dream for a world beyond oppression

and silence. We crafted masks, danced with tree spirits, spoke with forces larger

than ourselves.

Through these sessions, I realized: when I tell my story, my story changes. When I

embody pain, it begins to move. It started to feel like lived quantum physics.

I will keep the trust in spontaneity, the power of simple rituals, and the deep

connection that emerges when we dare to show up as we are. I’ll remember that play

can heal, that presence is enough, and that even across screens, we can feel

profoundly together.

Written by Coralie Gervaise

We thank Coralie for this powerful account and tesitmony.

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