Dancing to rejuvenate when I feel depleted

Hello, Loves.

What a week. The drama of the impeachment hearings. The tragedy of another school shooting. And, closer to home, the death of our beloved community member, Lisa Dettloff. I’m feeling drained, emotionally and physically. How are you doing? How do you resource yourself when you feel depleted? Me? I dance or I read poetry. 😊 I was in NY this week; there’s a certain vibration to the city, an intensity. I felt it. Generally, I’m energized by that intensity, but sometimes it wears me out. I also had work stress to process, so one night in my hotel room, I put on some music and danced. How dreamy it felt to simply let my body move to the beat of the music, which was slow and gentle. . . . . . and get out of my head. Oh, the glorious joy of getting out of one’s head! While it was nice to dance alone, my preference is to dance with others so I’m joyfully looking forward to dancing with you tomorrow morning in Sausalito!

I’m beyond pleased to report that our beloved Jennifer Burner will be at the helm tomorrow.

Here’s a sweet poem by Mary Oliver:

MOCKINGBIRDS

This morning two mockingbirds in the green field were spinning and tossing

the white ribbons of their songs into the air. I had nothing

better to do than listen. I mean this seriously.

In Greece, a long time ago, an old couple opened their door

to two strangers who were, it soon appeared, not men at all,

but gods. It is my favorite story-- how the old couple had almost nothing to give

but their willingness to be attentive-- but for this alone the gods loved them

and blessed them-- when they rose out of their mortal bodies, like a million particles of water

from a fountain, the light swept into all the corners of the cottage,

and the old couple, shaken with understanding, bowed down-- but still they asked for nothing

but the difficult life which they had already. And the gods smiled, as they vanished, clapping their great wings.

Wherever it was I was supposed to be this morning-- whatever it was I said

I would be doing-- I was standing at the edge of the field-- I was hurrying

through my own soul, opening its dark doors-- I was leaning out; I was listening.

~ Mary Oliver ~

. . . “they had almost nothing to give, but their willingness to be attentive. . . “ Isn’t that beautiful? . . .and inspiring?

I love her use of language. I love the notion of “hurrying through my own soul, opening its dark doors. . .leaning out and listening.” Oh, Mary. Mary. Mary. Thank you, Mary.

Sending love & hugs,

KB