I write to you tonight from a place of deep contentment. How is that possible amidst all the chaos of our world? Well, there’s a number of contributing factors at play here: 1) I slept 10 hours last night and 2) I’m reading a really enticing book about shifting perspective and 3) tonight we had dinner at a restaurant with dear friends (outdoors, socially distanced). It’s been many months since I’ve had a good night’s sleep and the effect on the body is simply exquisite. It’s been months since I’ve sat at a nice restaurant and enjoyed a delicious meal with dear friends. The conversation and the connection warmed my heart and nourished my soul tonight. It feels good, I tell you. It feels REALLY good to revel in this sense of contentment that has seemed so incredibly distant for far too long.
I know there’s a lot of stress and anxiety in the world right now and I hope you’re able to find a place of rest from it all; a moment that transports you to a restorative sense of grace & ease. Perhaps you can find that state of being on the dance floor, that place where everything else just melts away and it’s just pure, unbridled joy and deep authenticity moving through the body. Oh, what a glorious sensation!
Here's some good news: our beloved Jennifer Burner will be creating the soundscape for us tomorrow morning.
Here’s the helpful link: https://www.openfloordance.org/community-dances
And here’s a little poetry for you.
Waiting by Leza Lowitz
You keep waiting for something to happen, the thing that lifts you out of yourself,
catapults you into doing all the things you’ve put off the great things you’re meant to do in your life,
but somehow never quite get to. You keep waiting for the planets to shift
the new moon to bring news, the universe to align, something to give.
Meanwhile, the pile of papers, the laundry, the dishes the job — it all stacks up while you keep hoping
for some miracle to blast down upon you, scattering the piles to the winds.
Sometimes you lie in bed, terrified of your life. Sometimes you laugh at the privilege of waking.
But all the while, life goes on in its messy way. And then you turn forty. Or fifty. Or sixty…
and some part of you realizes you are not alone and you find signs of this in the animal kingdom —
when a snake sheds its skin its eyes glaze over, it slinks under a rock, not wanting to be touched,
and when caterpillar turns to butterfly if the pupa is brushed, it will die —
and when the bird taps its beak hungrily against the egg it’s because the thing is too small, too small,
and it needs to break out. And midlife walks you into that wisdom
that this is what transformation looks like — the mess of it, the tapping at the walls of your life,
the yearning and writhing and pushing, until one day, one day
you emerge from the wreck embracing both the immense dawn
and the dusk of the body, glistening, beautiful
just as you are.
And finally, here’s something really special from our own Nina Wise:
Sending love & the wish for deep contentment for all beings,