I am here again. The dancing happy version of myself who is writing on this laptop in my office during the time between appointments. I am sitting right here relatively calmly, pleased that I brought the laptop and carried it up the two flights of stairs to my office even though my right leg was screaming at me that it was too much to do.
And as I write another woman is dancing all around this office. She dances to the small fountain and touches the Simplify candle near it. Her hand brushes past the bromeliad and then on to the pothos near the door and the red anthureum on the tabletop. All the while she continues to dance and twirl with bare feet and silver hair and a light flowing orange dress that twirls with her. Her arms raise high over her head reaching and stretching. Twirl and reach and stretch and thrill to the joy of dance and writing all at once.
As I stopped to read what I had just written, the dancing woman stopped also, standing behind me quietly, her hands lightly on my shoulders and then touching the nape of my neck in the place that tells me “enough.” I feel tears in my eyes at the tenderness of her touch, and I feel a total sense of safety that she is with me, dancing, caring for me as I write. Without a word or a sound, she supports this version of me who writes. She supports with her dance and her touch and her own internal music that allows her dancing to continue, in fact, requires that it continue in some way. She certainly appears to be free, now stretching out on the wicker love seat, swaying one leg over the edge, watching me with a clear and steady look.
She knows me well, this dancing woman, and I know her. I was not at all surprised when she began to dance as I began to write although before then I did not know that she was here. We have been on a long journey together but have not seen each other in some time. I do not know what she has been doing, but I have been resting my knee and decorating for Christmas and planning vacations and working in the yard and rearranging furniture and grocery shopping and cooking dinners and silently crying out against the pain in my body and the not enough time and not enough me and looking out of another window one more time to trust whatever I am doing on the path.
So here I am with the plan of writing about humility, but instead caught with the wonder of the dancing woman, who has no interest in humility at all. I however, do feel humble and blessed that she has come to spend this time with me. She knew it was time for her and that I am indeed ready for the dancing. The pain in my body has served me well with my belief that I cannot have everything, not have the abundance of love as well as the abundance of freedom to dance and write. The pain in my body has slowed me enough that abundance has frequently been no more than an idea to consider but not experience.
Today I have switched to a new channel with a new story, one where abundance is the theme and everything is certainly possible. In fact, it already exists just for the knowing of it. And the dancing woman dances on.
