Saturday, December 23, 2006

"I Don't Dance"

Sometimes life hits you over the head with a gorgeous gold-plated frying pan: Wham!

Today my soon-to-be-ex-husband and I took our son to the Science Center, to do something fun as a "family." So far, we've been remarkably able to do such things for the sake of our son, and I hope we can continue as time passes.

Anyway, I've been in a bad place lately. Down about some things, and unable to find my light in the way I usually can. But when I'm in a mood like that, I at least usually try to make my way to the light. So we all piled into the car to drive home and I said "I need an attitide adjustment, I know, MUSIC and DANCING!" and I proceeded to pop some Brazilian drumming-pop-dance-tech-fun music into the CD player . . .cranked it up loud, and began to Groove Mightily in the seat as I drove. *ahem*

Hey, it was fun!

After a minute or so, my STBEH looks at me, and says, in this lifeless, dull, serious tone "can we turn that down please?"

I looked back and chirped "ok, but you should dance too, it's FUN! That's what life's all about, dancing!" (and continued car-dancing while he started muttering something under his breath.) "Dancing is notwhat life's all about."

I replied "ok, it's not everything, but it's very, very important. We aren't here in rocks, we're here in BODIES, and bodies like to move and celebrate!"

"I don't dance." he deadpanned. And I do mean "dead."

WHAM! Right over my head, there went the gold-plated frying pan. I received more clarity about why I was divorcing in that moment than in perhaps the whole prior 12 years.

No, he doesn't dance. He never has. He never will, or at least it seems unlikely.

I dance.

He does not dance.

There you have it.

It drained me so much to be with someone who didn't celebrate life himself and who wouldn't celebrate it with me, either. Or couldn't. Or didn't see much to celebrate perhaps?

Of course it is much more complex than that. Of course it is. But then again, it's not. I want to live life as an exclaimation, not an explanation!! (yes, I plagiarized that, but can't recall from whence it came.)

It felt good to finally understand with precision, at least one reason I am no longer going to live my life with this man as my companion.

And it feels far better to dance alone for now, than to be trying to dance with someone who just won't. The sweet friend I will find in the future will love to dance, this I know (I will ask, to be sure, and I will see if he can and will dance with me.) Whether it's dancing in bed, or dancing to loud Brazilian music on a dance floor, or dancing while cooking dinner in the kitchen . . .he will dance with me. Yes. And it's going to be so beautiful.

The Beautiful Whispers of Death

Did you hear the whispers of death today? Did you still yourself to listen intently to the warnings which might steer you gently to the light?

And did you receive the gifts which were sweetly placed before you by the hand of God? Or did you turn them away? Did you even see them?

Sometimes life robs us of the courage we need to receive . . .and so we experience losses out of fear. There are only two emotions, fear and love .. .which do you choose? Death can be our reminder, our warning -- and the small losses which are not quite death can whisper to us "really? do you really wish to lose this? take a small sip and taste . . .see the loss stiffen your heart and your body . . .watch as your kisses dry up and your lovemaking turns to memory . . .is this what you wish?"

Then run in the direction of the light and love. If you can just get there, more courage will be given to you by the very light and love you found. Run as fast as you can, and laugh and smile all the way home!

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

The Gift of Recognition

The Sacred is everywhere. I see it, have always seen it in the smallest things, since I too, was small.

I've always been able to detect the fragrances of life in full bloom: the love, the joy, the poignant bittersweet moments, and the losses and pains, even when some might not catch even the slightest whiff of them.

Are some of us delivered to earth with the gift of Recognition of the Sacred? Why do some people possess the gift of being moved to tears in an airport as they witness a small child run up to visiting Grandma, a scene which others wouldn't even notice? Or the gift of opening a broken heart wider, wider, wider . . .refusing to close when things seem cold and dark and the instinct presses from all sides? Or the gift of opening arms to everyone, but especially to those who have hurt us?