Tag Archives: dancing

Good Evening

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I danced tonight.
For a moment I forgot
having any problems at all,
and I just let myself
feel the music
and move my body.
It was  a shared celebration,
and so many friends
joyfully moved and danced
to the DJ’s sweet beats.
(We all had on neon body paint too.)
Dancing,
friends,
sweet beats,
neon body paint.
It was a good evening!

Today I Danced

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Today I danced.
It was an ordinary moment
just after lunch.
My son was (thankfully) napping,
my daughter was drawing,
my husband was watering the grass seedlings
and all was quiet.

Yes, just an ordinary moment,
except suddenly it was extraordinary.

Maybe it was the
the brightness of the spring afternoon sun,
the way the flowers were blooming vibrantly,
the way my daughter’s light step
reminded me of one of the fairy folk
who has flitted through my dreams–
and suddenly I needed to dance.

Outside on the patio
next to pots of blooming pansy,
alyssum, begonia, and impatiens
I put on my favorite Scottish band,
the Tannahill Weavers,
music bursting out
from a little Bluetooth speaker
perched on our high brick wall.

The pipes, the guitars, the drums, the vocals
stirred my heart
and then my body
and suddenly I was leaping and swirling
and spinning and whirling
and remembering why I love dancing.
My daughter looked up at me
with such love in her eyes
and told me as I danced
You are my sunflower.
This means I love you.

I kept dancing,
and I felt free.
It is so glorious to be alive.

Waiting for You!

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Dear Community of Writers and Readers,

Thank you for existing.
Since I began this little blog project in January, I have:

Laughed, cried, celebrated,
Allowed myself to be embraced by virtual arms in cyberspace,
receiving the kindest of words
that have cradled my hurts and given them room for healing.

I have yearned and asked and answered and asked again
Connected with kindred spirits that I may never meet in person, but so what?
To know the essence of a person, their pure creative spirit–this gift is enough for me.

Tonight I read the words of a courageous teacher-poet seeking justice in BC,
A kind soul who writes love notes to herself
and therefore to everyone,
A fellow meditator who is committing to living mindfully,
A poet whose phrases fit together like bass and percussion,
and whose poems leave me feeling like I just heard a really good song…

I read the words of a dancer who encourages us to own our passions
by sharing her own journey back home to her joy,
A visual artist/poet whose soul is clearly of unspeakable depth
and whose imagery leaves me in awe,
A visionary seeker whose poems are each a transcendental experience,
A delightful young lady celebrating one year of blogging and going strong…

I gazed in wonderment at the photographic journey of kindred spirits on a trip to Indonesia,
I read an article shared by a Native American writer who takes time to keep us informed.
Enjoyed the words and drawings of an author/artist whose work glows with spirit
So much to see, to share, to know…

Tonight I read and I read and I read.

And I’m left feeling grateful.  Inspired.
I’m left being reminded that this world is so rich and vast
and that each one of us has something truly special to offer.

If you ever wonder about what you have to share
that is actually worth sharing,
Just be willing to share whatever arises in you,
and know that it is enough!
Don’t wait to be an accomplished musician when each breath is a symphony.
Don’t keep yourself from dancing while your heart beats out a perfect rhythm.
This life asks of you nothing more than to be fully you,
and we’re waiting, we’re waiting for you!

Lonely

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I question how much I should disclose in this public cyber space, but I reason that if my experience resonates with just one other person out there, and they realize that they aren’t the only one feeling what they’re feeling, then it’s worth it for me to share.

I feel lonely as hell today. Lonely in my role as mother to two young children who need me to get their basic needs met. Lonely with a mountain of laundry, meals to prepare, floors to sweep, toys to pick up. All I really want to do is lay down, curl in a ball, hibernate this day away, and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I don’t have that luxury, what with the kids needing to eat occasionally and all.

This lump forming in my throat is all the unexpressed sadness I’ve felt for a while but to which I have given no outlet. Who am I beyond the roles and responsibilities I fulfill in the outer world? Who am I beyond my function? If I am only mother, teacher, and wife, what happens when these roles are taken from me? Will I cease to exist?

I have a creative spark in me that longs to shine out into the world. I want to express ME. But so often I find myself folding laundry, picking up toys, preparing yet another meal–and I seem to be operating under the belief that to do these things requires a sacrifice of the self that wants to create. By the end of the day there isn’t much energy left in me to do anything besides meditate and go to bed. The creative spark recedes back into the folds of my deep dark consciousness and waits again.

Over time, noticing the things I’ve put on hold–knitting, painting, music, climbing, sewing, hiking, dancing, writing–I begin to feel angry, and then depressed. No time for me. No time for what I want.

This would be the moment, when I feel this way, that I would normally reach out to a friend. Some sympathetic ear that would reassure me that this won’t last forever, things will change, the kids will get bigger and more self-sufficient, I’ll have more time to pursue my interests. The friend would say something goofy to make me laugh, and my internal pressure would be eased, maybe even relieved completely.

But today is a day when I have not one friend. No friends. None. All of my girlfriends have moved away, and over time, nothing–not even Facebook or texts or even an occasional phone call–can help to bridge the distance and the ensuing awkwardness that arises when we realize that we really don’t know each other anymore. Not in the way that we used to. Why would I call my my former best girlfriends, who have moved out of state and have since formed new groups of best girlfriends, out of the blue to dump on them about how depressed I feel? Not cool. I would have to call them more regularly, find out how they are doing, establish a stronger phone friendship, before I’d feel comfortable believing that they’d even want to hear a single word about my misery.

Where does that leave me? Lonely as hell, with a mountain of laundry, kids to care for, toys to pick up, floors to sweep meals to prepare. Better get my nose to the grindstone…