The sermon at church this morning was about life as a dance. How we chose to share, or not, our life experiences with those around us. How we can chose to dance the joy and bare the pain, but in tune with the music of the universe we are meant to dance. I think that has always been true to me. I use dance as a metaphor frequently for what is happening in my life, particularly with other people. We chose to dance, or not, with this or that person.
How does that fit with my life now? I don’t know. The steps have become complex and sometimes difficult. It is a new dance for me. I have grown in ways that I would never have forseen just a few short years ago, making me both more aware of the “me” that is an individual, and at the same time more open to the “we” that can happen when dancing the same steps. I yearn deeply for the person for the “we”. I don’t believe it to be out of need, or codependency, or anything unhealthy. I believe it to be the real me standing up finally to find a person to dance with who can meet me step for step, who shares the visions of what can be, with whom I am unafraid to bare that pain and sorrow.
All of nature, all of everything that we consider that is a part of our reality dances a dance. The seasons, the moon, the planets, the stars, a river, a lover’s kiss and caress, as well as the evil in the world; hatred, prejudice, lies, deceit. It is all a part of the rhythms that make up our lives and keep us either in step, or when we walk away, quietly (or absolutely terrifyingly) disjointed, uncomfortable and out of sorts with everyone and everything around us.
At times I feel the music and I dance. At times I have a partner, and at times I dance alone. Sometimes it is literal as the music causes my body to move and flow and I feel the creation of the universe rise to revel in consciousness of the beauty of my body. Sometimes it is as simple as returning the river flowing through me, sometimes a rapids, sometimes a brook babbling quietly. Whenever I try to close off that source I feel cut off from the world.
Right now I am fighting with that river, that torrent, that music of nature inside me. What I see as possibility and love may not be there at all, may go away tomorrow, may not work, and as in a previous post, the flying I experience may end up in a jumble of tangled me as I hit the ground. We dance a dance of advance and withdraw. The steps I’ve done before do not fit with this dance, and I feel discomfort of stumbling along in an unfamiliar rhythm. I want to let go and tango with the universe and my feelings and fly in the moment. Sometimes when I do, my partner steps away and I trip… it is in those moments when I question my own heart and whether it beats in tune with the universe, or if I should withdraw from the dance to keep from stumbling again. In fear of the what might be, I question the what is. I thought I had moved past that, and here again, like a ghost it haunts me.
I’ve learned that putting up the walls, and the nets to keep from hitting the ground protect me from pain. They also protect me from joy. The comfort me in the numbness of cotton, wrapped around me like a blanket, and keep me from the echo of years past when this is not of that time. There is something about that numbness that becomes as familiar and wonderful as oblivion. It also protects me from my depression/mania cycles. I’ve also used a comparison to floating in ice, in being surrounded in it, a hard shell of protection that no one can break. Not even me. As the steps become more complex and unfamiliar, I find myself wanting very much to build the ice around me again. I’m safe there.
But it’s lonely and painful, and it burns. It burns out all passion and dance left in me. And I don’t want to go back there. And if that is true, than I must chose to stumble and fall as I learn the new tango of the universe. A different rhythm, a different beat than before. The stage where I dance is full of cracks and rough places. I feel the joy of the dance and then stub my toe. This is hard, and difficult, and I am not sure how I will end up… the running of the she wolf inside me who runs with the universe because she can, or the jangle of limbs and torn flesh that flung itself out and fell.
Tags: romance, love, life