Let’s Dance

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They call it a march for  a reason. A military maneuver really. 

I am not inclined to walk in such a way.

But I would like to stand gracefully aware in defiance of a body politic. 

In truth, I prefer to dance.

Moving in rhythm with cycles, life cycles–Unashamed and unharmed. 

I prefer to dance.

Leaping with full turns, legs stronger than his arms.

I prefer to dance.

Stepping high above the platforms built by sad battles. 

I prefer to dance and be captured in full swing by the pulse of divine love.

Lock the door on your way out….

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I always remember my dreams. They reset and reframe the truth lying just underneath my daily life and struggles.

In anticipation of 2017, my sleep brought the terror of a whirlwind. Being swept away by the forces of nature, I woke distressed to say the least. This unsettled mood lasted through the last day of 2016.

I woke this am, however, on a journey abroad in the company of family and strangers . I was advising others on how to pack but also reorganizing my own bag.

Perhaps I am ready to move on.

Lock the door on your way out.

Looking Out

img_1174-2.jpgLooking out with weathered views I find there is much seen from places away from where I stand

The other window,  past the trees where the wind blows from the north is something else

     if I close my eyes and listen closely – I shiver and know.

I am blind though to the color of the eastern view from my western space

Looking out with simple delight– only with framed views I fear.

Photography via Julieallyn wordpress.com

On a limb

autumoct-25-2016.jpgI really depend on problems.  They engage my intellect. Energy flows best in me while in the “problem solving” mode.

But it’s killing me.

I spend hours intellectually solving the emotional crisis created in make-believe power struggles to right a wrong. I tune in preferentially to the oppression of wrong thinking, ready to push back.  My eyes notice first the thing “wrong” with the picture.

I was educated to do this. My skills honed to fix the broken.

I have the mind of science, dissection as discovery.

Did I mention it’s killing me?

I use the quest for perfection as motivation to create. I think and talk and type until my voice is heard.

I yell louder –  and over power.

I think deeper – and over intellectualize.

I focus harder-  and over work.

It is killing me.

Can I just hang there?  Can I hold a view on the edge that accepts the death of needing to solve the moment?  Can I then live within the fall of mind to heart?

Can I live in the pain of brokenness, of autumn’s peace and beauty and know season’s change is not my call to arms?

Can I just die a bit in the strain of change without the torture of failure?

 

Image courtesy of Brenda-meditative journey with saldage.