Just dance

"C'mon. Dance with me. I love this song." [She bites her lower lip and her hips begin to move with the music.]

"You know I can't dance and even when I try I end up looking like a complete fool." [He moves closer to the wall, hoping that a secret door will magically appear and save him from his fear.]

[She giggles. They have been through this so many times before and he always ends up with the same horrified look on his face.]

"You think too much. You're the only one who really cares about what you look like when you dance. Just trust me. Take my hand, close your eyes, and let the bass fill your body. Nobody in here is watching you. They're entranced in their own experience."

[With an exaggerated exhale, he reluctantly gives in and allows her to lead him into the crowd of people. Instantly, he feels entwined within the labyrinth of the swaying and pulsating bodies. He gasps for breath and tries to retrace his steps back to safety but to his dismay, the path is over-grown with ecstatic dancers. Besides, as he pulls away, she pulls him back with a strength that reminds him that he is going nowhere. He knows that the only way out of this situation is to resign himself to the music and show at least a feeble attempt at having fun. If only his legs didn't feel like two lead poles attached to the floor. Slowly, he lifts his right foot from ground, then his left. His hips begin to move a little from side to side. To his amazement, he feels his parted lips and notices a hint of a smile forming on his face. Then, he opens his eyes and sees her. She is so beautiful, so goddess-like, in the ocean of lights and sensual rhythm of the music. Her body flows so freely and her face exudes ecstasy. She has found her happy place. This moment makes it all worth it...well, that, and her promise to watch the football game tomorrow.]

All In A Dream

Sometimes the darkness finds its way into her deepest consciousness, seeping through the cracks of her well constructed psyche and leaving her defenseless in the strangle-hold of her past. She chokes as she reaches to lessen the grip of her paralyzing memories, mentally digging her fingers into the big, fleshy hands encircling her present thoughts. But as with most altercations, the more she struggles, the more she loses control and the vice grows tighter, leaving her breathless and weak. She utters the words, "You can't have me without a fight," and violently begins flailing her arms and kicking her legs, attacking the darkness with as much vigor and strength as she can muster in her current condition. She wonders what she must look like to the outside observer. Is she merely a doll, being held by the neck by a 12-foot monster who looks at her with amusement (and possibly a little bit of sadness) because he knows that the more she struggles the more difficult it will be to be free? Or, does she look like a sleek super-hero who will pull out her ninja moves at just the right moment, using strategy to weaken the enemy. She ponders these two situations as the darkness continues to creep closer, swirling around her in its sultry dance. Suddenly, her body stiffens and she is jerked out of her reverie by the sounds of Portishead playing on the radio. It takes a moment for her to realize that her alarm clock is to blame for the disruption. Annoyed and a little bit shaken, she rolls over to hit the snooze button. This time she chooses "super-hero."

Clipped Wings

In the distance, she hears his voice as it bounces off the tree trunks and faintly finds its way to her ears. He is frantically calling her name. His voice dripping with urgency and desperation. It takes all of her strength to keep moving forward, away from the familiar and into the unknown. She knows that after tonight there is no turning back. A chapter in her life will end and she will have to swim in the currents of discomfort until the next chapter is written. He continues to call her name, hoping that persistence will be his savior and she will come back to him like she has so many times before. In his heart, he knows the truth. This time is different. He has painfully watched her shrinking before his eyes, often cowering in the shadows nursing the wounds of her clipped wings. It was never his intention to make her a prisoner but his love was smothering and eventually she was his obsession instead of his partner. He wanted her all to himself. He believed that their self-contained life was enough for both of them. He suddenly stops in his tracks. For the first time he realizes that in order to save her, he has to let her go. He calls for her one last time, finally extinguishing the last flame of hope that she will return. At that moment, she can sense his defeat. She slows her pace and glances briefly over her shoulder. In the final moments of daylight, she sees his silhouette. He is stoic, his head tilted downward and his eyes resting on the ground. She releases a sigh of silent appreciation. Without realizing it, he has given her his greatest gift. Her freedom.

Sand Angel

She lays sprawled on the beach, her eyes closed, her breath in rhythm with the crashing waves. The sun hides under a thick blanket of clouds, showing itself only long enough to breathe a stream of warmth upon the vacant stretch of beach. She feels the tiny pieces of sand digging deeper into her scalp as she moves her head back and forth, creating the perfect resting place for her tired mind. She usually brings a blanket on her visits but today she yearns for the raw connection between body and earth. She wants to feel the coolness of the descent as she sinks deeper into the separating grains of sand making way for her imposing mass of flesh and bone. For a moment, she strains to hear the familiar voices of the hovering birds as they effortlessly offer their beautiful songs to the sea goddesses. It doesn't take long before she realizes that her head is buried too deep in the sand to marvel in these songs. She is left alone with the caravan of thoughts parading through her consciousness, each one adding a heaviness to her spirit. Slowly and deliberately, she begins to usurp the power of her persistent thoughts. They have served their purpose. She wraps each one in a bubble and watches as they float away into the ethers. She feels lighter. She feels happy. Once again, she is healed by the magic of the ocean. She sticks out her tongue and tastes the droplets of salt water that will soon be encompassing her body. She slowly begins to move her arms and legs in a semi-circular motion. To pay homage to the sea, she creates a sand angel.

Constant Wonder

It is that time of day when the light begins to melt into darkness. The sky is lavishly decorated with wisps of red, orange, and purple. In the distance, the snow capped mountains withdraw behind the curtain of twilight, revealing only the shapes of their majestic peaks. There is a stillness in the air. An eerie feeling of serenity and uncertainty as the spirits of day cross paths with the children of night. This is his favorite time of day. He stares into the thin white line that separates the heavens from the earth and wonders what it would be like to jump through to the other side. What hides behind this thin veil of illusion that so clearly marks the transition of time? He finds himself walking towards this spot on the horizon. Perhaps today is the day he will reach out and find the answers to the questions he has asked since he was a small boy. With each step, he becomes more embedded in the growing body of twilight. The once distinct line of separation is closing in upon itself as the night closes it's jaw around the last morsel of light. He starts running with the hope that his speed will prevail over his fierce competitor. Just a little bit further. The spot of light becomes smaller and smaller until it finally vanishes into the darkness. He slows to a walk, puts his hands on his knees and bends over to catch his breath. He looks out into the distance and allows himself a moment of contemplation before he straightens himself up and begins his journey home. At least he can look forward to another day of wonder.

In the Field of Daisies

She often dreams of pirouetting through fields of daisies. Not just any daisies but Gerber daisies. Their colorful, luscious petals attaching themselves to the hem of her flowing dress and tickling her bare feet each time she tiptoes on the ground. She opens her arms and invites the wind to join her in an ecstatic dance. Her eyes are closed but she sees clearly. Her heart is tender but open. Sometimes he's with her. Sometimes she's alone. Somewhere in the middle of the dream, the sky opens up and the rain begins to fall, invigorating the sweet earthly juices that fill the air with their intoxicating aromas. She breathes it all in. She stops for a moment. Long enough to feel the muddy earth crawling into the spaces between her toes. She tilts her head towards the streaming ray of sun that has found it's way through the weak spot in the cloud. She runs her fingers through her hair. Her dress clings to the sensual curves of her body. She is beautiful in the soft light encompassing her. Young. Angelic. Free.

A Single Tear

An old man rests peacefully on his favorite bench in the park. His eyes slightly unfocused, staring blankly at the pink clouds on the blossoming cherry tree. He visits the park everyday as it has become his temple for reflection and contemplation. A place where he can unite with his gods and wrestle with his demons. His memories play through his mind like a black and white movie. While he mostly observes the scenes, every once in a while, he puts one into a freeze frame, touches it, tastes it, dives into the feelings surrounding it, then lets it go and moves on to the next. Lately, he finds himself on repeat as he remembers the first moment he laid his eyes (and his heart) upon his wife. It was a warm, sunny day in the beginning of spring. He was taking a carefree walk through the neighborhoods, admiring the blossoming magnolias and budding spring flowers in his neighbors gardens. The moment she opened the door to his heart, he saw her standing below a tree with a tear in her eye as she tried desperately to coax her new kitten down from the tallest branch. He approached her slowly, their eyes met, and then both turned to the meowing creature stuck in the tree. He surveyed the situation, took off his jacket and hat, jumped to reach the nearest branch, and in a series of eloquent twists and turns, climbed to the top of the tree and rescued the kitten. When he made it safely to the ground, he was greeted with a smile that lit up the entire town. A smile that still lights up his eyes when he thinks of her, his soulmate. They had a beautiful life together and although he climbed that tree to rescue the kitten, there were many times that she climbed mountains to rescue him. As he drifts back to the park, and the poetic blooms of the cheery tree, he brings a hand to his face and wipes away a single tear born out of love and remembrance.

Lingering ghosts

She sat on the front porch sipping her iced tea, her hair wet with sweat and her dress clinging to her voluptuous body like a second skin. In the background, the mesmerizing tones of a sensual jazz singer captured her attention and whisked her into a beautiful dance. She felt herself smile as she closed her eyes and melted into the delicious sounds beckoning her into a smoky room filled with whiskey and mysterious people. For a moment she forgot that her life was elsewhere. She forgot that she ached for the busy streets where she could navigate with anonymity and live courageously without eyes watching her around every corner. The voice projecting from the radio offered refuge to her current situation. She never thought her life would bring her back to this place, to this moment, where all the growth that she experienced was stripped from her bones and she was once again a naked child. She tried everything to escape, did everything right. For a tranquil period of time, she felt comfort knowing that she finally created her own utopia where the ghosts of the past could not find her and drag her back to a place that made her feel small and insignificant. Then, one day, as she was sipping her morning latte, the phone rang and she knew she was being summoned back to the past. She stared solemnly at the caller id, losing herself for what seemed an eternity, before she finally picked up the phone and invited back all of the complexities that plagued her as a little girl. She knew she had no choice. Her sense of duty would not allow her to ignore the phone call.

Now, as she sits on the porch, listening to the familiar song, she is grateful for the moments of calm before she has to confront the lingering ghosts. She is grateful for this one magic moment.

Patient Battles

She gazes at him over the pages of her book as he sleeps soundly on the opposite end of the couch. His body curled up like a cat, his eyelids fluttering as he lives his subconscious life in the land of dreams. She takes a deep breath, a breath of appreciation, a breath of wonder. They have been through so much together. She can barely remember her life before he exploded into her world and turned things upside down, forcing her to grow in ways she never thought possible. She can feel her heart expand as she remembers the gentle unfolding of the protective petals that once surrounded her strong, yet fragile heart. There were times when she fought so hard to stay hidden behind the self-created fortress, digging deep for her warrior spirit to protect her from her fears and deepest desires. Like a shapeshifter, he found the smallest cracks in her walls and managed to meld himself to fit inside. He was patient and kind. Letting her feel like she had control when all the while he was deconstructing the fortress one piece at a time. She fought hard. She fought long. But in the end, when her ego was tired, she knew there was no way that her fear could triumph over her opening heart. He won and it was the sweetest victory for both of them.
She is nudged back to the present as she feels him stir, opening his eyes for a brief moment before drifting back to sleep. She rises from the couch, pulls a blanket over his body, and gently kisses him on the lips. She returns to her book with an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude, knowing that some battles are worth fighting.

It's All in a Song

The radio played her favorite song. She smiled and bit her lip as her head found the rhythm and began to move back and forth. She closed her eyes and let the music infuse her body, finding all of those empty, sore spaces that longed to be filled with beauty and grace. For a moment, she forgot where she was, who was watching, what she was running from, and she allowed herself to be swept away by a force stronger than her will. Without realizing it, tears began to stream down her sun-kissed face as the tumultuous circumstances of her life temporarily melted away. Her body relaxed and surrendered to the sweet melodies and driving bass that took control of her body and rendered her rational mind useless. For those few moments, she felt alive and connected to something primal and mysterious. To an outsider, especially a judgmental one, she might have appeared to be on the verge of insanity. Her body moving in a hundred directions, gutteral sounds coming from her core, her hair flailing as if in ecstasy. She needed this more than anyone would ever know. This sliver of time when she remembered her essence, her passion, and her desire to live. This one song might have just saved her.

So close....

Standing on tiptoes, his fingers digging into the rough edges, the little boy strains to see over the top of the jagged rock fence. Throughout his life, he has heard stories of the creatures that exist just beyond the boundaries of his neatly manicured lawn. Magical creatures with golden manes and wings the size of parachutes. Scary creatures with venom in their eyes and fire in their bellies. A fantastical world that defies the greatest hopes of his imagination. He has planned for this day, the day when dreams become reality and he is whisked away to a land of great adventure. Where he will be king of the world. An icon of strength. A leader of peace and salvation. He will have a pet monkey and call mermaids his playmates. He will fight dragons (but will not kill them because after all, he comes forth with an idealogy of non-violence). He strains a little harder to see over the fence...almost...almost...uh oh...he's losing his footing...he feels his body crumble to the ground. Damn. Tomorrow, he'll bring another step.

Sweet Surrender

In the distance there is laughter. She wraps her arms around her knees, pulling herself into a tight ball, shrinking to keep hidden in the shadows. She has always felt more comfortable on the outside, observing, soaking in the chaos and confusion of the inner circle. In the beginning, she ached with a longing to put on the mask and drape herself in familiar clothes, but as time passed, this urge subsided, giving way to a desire for the vulnerability of nakedness. It is these moments, in the darkness, separated from reality, that she feels completely herself. Free to dance. Free to dream. Free to listen to the voice within her soul. There is such indescribable beauty coloring the backdrop of this sweet surrender.

The Looking Glass

She stands silently gazing at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes shining as the light dances upon the pale blue centers. She takes a deep breath and searches into the person staring back as her, aching for a spark of recognition to reignite the fire that once burned so deeply within. For a brief second, she sees the flame and runs towards it, faster...faster...feeling herself propelled forward by a force much stronger than herself. As she approaches, the flame gets smaller and smaller until it is finally replaced by a faint wisp of smoke. She sighs, blinks her eyes, and finds solace in her physical surroundings. She embraces the intensity and prays for the tenacity to try again tomorrow as she realizes that she was closer than she's been in a while.

The Fragile Blossoming

Suddenly, yet slowly, liberated from the debris that has silently choked the passionate child
Spaces open
Emotions gently spread and touch the deep, jagged crevices
Whispering
Honoring the sensitivity of touch
She winces and tenses her body, standing as a warrior
Ready to protect the vulnerable alcoves that have been hidden from pain
Feeling for the first time, the warmth of the streaming tears,
Like sunlight caressing the drops of water in the blossoming flower,
Coaxing the creatures out of hiding
Embracing them with a gentle kiss.

The trials of making sense...

Life, fragile and magnificent, passes by in a blink of the universal eye, leaving us dazzled and confused, hopeful and suffering. None of us knowing when we will breathe our final breath or utter our final words, living recklessly and consciously, all at the same time. Finding time to dwell on the insignificant while the brilliance surrounds us patiently waiting for us to take notice and jump in head first, fearless and unknowing. We are humans. We are imperfect. We are selfish. We are complicated. We are beautiful. We are all of these things that encompass our essence and teach us to blossom as we struggle to find our way in the brightness of day and darkness of night. In the end, we can only hope to experience the balance of living boldly and accepting our frailties, living compassionately and struggling with our demons, demonstrating respect and acknowledging our failures, and most importantly, choosing to be who we are.