
Dad-ness
October 23, 2022It is so glorious to feel the merciless cold pulling at you as you reach deeper into spirit.
It is so glorious to feel the merciless cold pulling at you as you reach deeper into spirit.
We already knew how to lay down together, wrap our tails around each other…
I’d be teaching my kids wonderment, full time.
I think thats why it can be difficult to talk about that doorway, I disappear completely. There are no words, and little thought. Absolute silence from within.
How do you reclaim wildness, when you are part of a culture hell bent on minimizing or destroying everything wild? How do you embody the presence of an animal to call forth your humanity?
When did it start for you – that deep ache that was also a yearning waiting to be lived? I remember the moment acutely, my feet dangling over the edge of the back seat of Grandpa’s old Buick, feeling so small, like a leaf waiting to be blown out to sea.
When I was making my rounds that fateful day, I was being shown that my work with the Sidhe is always happening. Its really about a quality of presence and relationship to life that never ends. Everything has to fit within that connection.
…I journeyed to the spirit of the Slough, finding an ancient woman twisting her yarn at a spinning wheel, weaving out the eons singing to the tap of her wheel. Listening to her spinning song slowly turned me to gunpowder-black dust. She sang, wove and spun until I became a small bird perched on her wheel transformed by her radiance.
It was for that reason I was acutely aware of the power released as the roosters spirit passed.
Holding her takes on greater power every day, not for her but for me. I can feel her relaxing into me, I can feel that she knows everything is going to be OK because she’s in Papas arms.
This morning I started dancing at dawn again, I haven’t done it since our little fosterling arrived almost nine months ago. As I spread my arms to the sky I immediately felt the company of Owl…
All dance is shapeshifting, that was the latest 4am baby-feeding gift.
I dreamed last night someone handed me a large coffee table book titled “The Young Dancer”. It was dark with red lettering, part painted, part smeared blood.
I counted all the NO’s
in my life,
they didn’t add up to a single YES.
I came of age in cavernous halls, often dancing with adults and little or no parental supervision.
Yesterday I awoke with an image in my head of the Spirit of the Land I journey to. She was smiling, gesturing to the ground, a voice said – “Dance the harvest.”
Every step holds the potential for a new beginning, that’s one of the things dance taught me. If you’re really dancing, you’re on an edge that can lead you in any direction.
I was told you should do the 1 legged stork dance.” That’s what the spirits told my friend Ann when she journeyed about my healing.
The lesson lately has been that just by spending time with my spirit, sitting and becoming aware of its stuck places, I can create healing. Listen, breathe, pay attention.
Last night I felt gratitude for the dance training of my childhood. Reflecting on my sons forays into pre-school, I lost sight of the pain I usally feel when I think about dance.
After spending an hour getting the frozen muscles surrounding my spine to loosen up, my healer discovered a river beneath the tension.
This morning I got a very strong feeling while dancing. It was an awareness of being involved in a quiet cultural movement with many divergent tributaries.
I turn to the concrete circle in the middle of our acre of land surrounded by a forest of Oaks. Bowing, I step across the threshold and begin to dance.