Your touch intensified
and I'm in the quicksand
My god. I forgot how much dancing releases my soul. I hold back a lot, but tonight I was in my own world, full of possibilities and pirouettes. And spinning. I haven't danced in front of people for a long time. Probably for about 3 years. And even though it was mainly only in front of Jules and Austinboy, it was something. And it was exhilarating. It's like something reached into my body and told me it was okay to dance again. And dancing combined with poi, jesus. It's another world. Matching the winter wonderland that has formed outside of my window. It feels almost natural to me, I know it doesn't look natural by any means, but it feels natural. And I'll work on it until it looks natural too.
And honestly I wouldn't be here typing at my computer if I hadn't done a roundoff and pulled my groin muscle. THAT, my friends, is delightful. So, I'm in bed. And I would much rather be dancing. Dancing and spinning.
I'm really excited about tomorrow. Riverside in the snow is going to be beautiful. I've wanted so much to see it covered in snow. It's one of my favorite cemeteries in the United States.
So, I discovered this poem through my sister, and I feel like it fits. It isn't really about anyone, necessarily. It's just resonating within me tonight, and I thought I'd share.
The Invitation (By: Oriah Mountain Dreamer)
and I'm in the quicksand
My god. I forgot how much dancing releases my soul. I hold back a lot, but tonight I was in my own world, full of possibilities and pirouettes. And spinning. I haven't danced in front of people for a long time. Probably for about 3 years. And even though it was mainly only in front of Jules and Austinboy, it was something. And it was exhilarating. It's like something reached into my body and told me it was okay to dance again. And dancing combined with poi, jesus. It's another world. Matching the winter wonderland that has formed outside of my window. It feels almost natural to me, I know it doesn't look natural by any means, but it feels natural. And I'll work on it until it looks natural too.
And honestly I wouldn't be here typing at my computer if I hadn't done a roundoff and pulled my groin muscle. THAT, my friends, is delightful. So, I'm in bed. And I would much rather be dancing. Dancing and spinning.
I'm really excited about tomorrow. Riverside in the snow is going to be beautiful. I've wanted so much to see it covered in snow. It's one of my favorite cemeteries in the United States.
So, I discovered this poem through my sister, and I feel like it fits. It isn't really about anyone, necessarily. It's just resonating within me tonight, and I thought I'd share.
The Invitation (By: Oriah Mountain Dreamer)
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to
be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can
disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to
be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can
disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
1 comments:
I really like this entry. Seems to have more of the upbeat you thought you were lacking.
Always keep writing, babe.
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