Two weeks ago I was swallowed up in a mighty jubilation, high on life, happy about my new magical dancing shoes, excited about coming to Miami for Earthdance. Life seemed to be coasting smoothly and effortlessly in my favor. The sun kissed me when I landed in Ft. Lauderdale and I didn't look back. My body greeted every opportunity to move with thanksgiving and everyday was one long, joyous booty shake. My spirit soaring with the waves at the ocean, my legs leaping in delight with the gentle caress of sea breezes. Everyday I met people who wanted to expand inside the dance, either to promote me here, or dance with me there--it was all going my way.
And then change blew in from the ever-shifting universal forces, and my dance collapsed under the weight of shattered expectations. My movement ceased, my body ached all over. I cried. On day OSA 160 my dance drowned in a steady stream of tears. Stubborn, bitter, angry, I moped about like a child. I was embarrassed by my behavior in front of my happy roommates. Inside I felt the duality of chaos and slumber. All I wanted to do was sleep, but the whirlwind of negative emotions blocked my sleep. I pretended to try and breathe and meditate, but still the dance lay buried and motionless under the layers of disappointment. What becomes of our divine light when we can't even see it ourselves?
OSA 161 I awoke on the verge of tears again. I called people to vent about everything that was going not my way, but that I was working through...trying to sound more positive. I felt so bad for not being in the spirit of dance. I tried to stretch my body, the feeling was so fleeting. Nothing would sustain itself. People ask me if I ever don't feel like dancing--sometimes when I my emotions are low, the dance suffers. And this time, because my body hurt, I lacked all initiative to dance.
Something drastic had to happen.
One of the people staying in the Miami apartment is on a journey around the world. She says she's a key-less wanderer this year. She's bold, sassy, loud, funny, loves spicy food, and very courageous--nothing scares her it seems, except for little Florida critters in the night. I'm amazed at how different we are most times, but because I see everyone as my mirror, I know that everything I see in her, I possess within me. She has this "let it go, let it flow," attitude about life. I thought I could use this outlook on life about now. I didn't really know how to go about connecting with her, but I trusted she'd help me out of my funk.
Just when I was preparing for another exciting day of staring out of the window, she suggested we take ourselves on an adventure to the beach. "Take the bus?" Hmm, I wasn't feeling the bus, but I was also tired of being so funky-spirited. I figured her outing adventure might spark a new disposition within me.
We set out to chase down the 8East bust in Little Havana. We got turned around several times before landing on the bus to South Beach. A storm was approaching. We laughed. I realized I hadn't laughed in so long. When we arrived at the beach, many people were leaving, seeing the clouds looming above. Our adventurous mission led us closer to the shore though. She's a speed-walker and I got a thorough workout having to walk so fast (I like to stroll). She gave me an impromptu lesson for rock-skipping. It was so funny; I possess no rock-throwing skills and she's an all-star athlete.
The ocean was growing rough and crashed into my legs. The water was warm and soothing in the cool breeze coming off the water. I reflected on the constancy of the waves. They refresh, wash out the old, bring in the new. Nature has a destructive grace about it. It takes away, undoes what no longer serves us, and delivers us into more productive, nurturing spaces. But it can only do this when we surrender to it's cleansing schedule. My funk and sadness was the result of resisting nature's maintenance plan. And this was a painful ordeal.
Being at the ocean reminded me of the power of nature to give and to take. Here I was able-bodied, healthy, young, vibrant, creative--powerful--yet sitting on all my gifts and refusing nature's blessings in my bad mood. I wanted to hurl it all back into the ocean. I listened to the rock-skipper's stories about her adventurous life and all the characters she's met. She told me I should speak up more, but really I just wanted to listen. She has a raspy undertone to her fiery voice. Everything she says is a piece of a story. We kept walking and laughing at my amateur throwing capabilities.
When we arrived at Lincoln Road Mall, an outdoor strip of everything you don't need, (including three Starbucks in one block!), I felt like dancing! Wow, finally, the movement resurged. I started twisting, spinning on the street, my favorite studio. Homeless, drunk men mumbled incomprehensible things to me as I spun weaves of gratitude. Grateful nature didn't take my dance away from me because I "didn't feel like it." Life is so delicate, a dance is not to be taken for granted, ever. I danced my way down many blocks as we walked the streets looking in vain for veggie-friendly restaurants. Finding none we went to the grocery store and danced in the cereal isle. I wanted to ask this woman to dance with me, but instead we chatted about our favorite dances while she picked out granola. I heard myself laughing, felt the life oozing back into my limbs, my hips, my heart. Today is OSA 162, September 26, the full moon. There's much movement to be making today, and everyday.
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