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Renewed Bliss

Hello, Dear Dancers.

In a radical departure from the norm, I’m writing on Sunday evening (after dancing) instead of Saturday night (before dancing). Please forgive me for not writing last night. I must admit, I was wildly uninspired. But today is completely different. Can you guess why that might be? It’s because I danced! Yes, I found my inspiration. I found my muse. I found my connection to self and to others. I found my connection to spirit. I found my bliss, glorious bliss! I found loud, spectacular joy (yes, shouting was involved) and I found quiet, gentle joy. (insert happy sigh here) There really is nothing quite like this amazing dance practice. I don’t know about you, but there’s no other activity in my life that makes me move my body the way dance invites me to move. There’s currently no other activity in my life that allows me to feel such a deep and tender connection to others as well as to my own beloved body. Bodies meshing and twirling together to the rhythm. Oh, yes. It was a screamingly good experience at dance today, my friends. I hope you danced as well. I hope you found your own fabulous joy. I hope you felt the magic of bodies in profound conversation with one another through the language of conscious movement. Yeah, I saw that little hip sway you just did. See how you inspire me to try a new movement with my hips? See how your shoulder shudder makes me want to shake my shoulders too? See how the sweet energy of your proximity allows me to let go of all I’ve been holding and dip into that honeysuckle sweetness with you? Oh, joyful, exuberant souls, I hope you dance!

Whispered aside: Just to get the tense right . . . . . . I hope you’ve danced. I hope you are dancing. I hope you will always dance. (Hopefully something in that array of possibilities is applicable to you!)


I only have this to offer: a deep bow of gratitude to all my teachers, to my fellow dancers, to the musicians who provide the beats, the lyrics, the groove. Thank you! I wish you this: if you’ve lost your groove over these past many months, I wish for you to find it again----- to know the wonder and magic of the dance.


A poem for you:


The Dance by C.K. Williams A middle-aged woman, quite plain, to be polite about it, and somewhat stout, to be more courteous still, but when she and the rather good-looking, much younger man she’s with get up to dance, her forearm descends with such delicate lightness, such restrained but confident ardor athwart his shoulder, drawing him to her with such a firm, compelling warmth, and moving him with effortless grace into the union she’s instantly established with the not at all rhythmically solid music in this second rate cafe, that something in the rest of us, some doubt about ourselves, some sad conjecture, seems to be allayed, nothing that we’d ever thought of as a real lack, nothing not to be admired or be repentant for, but something to which we’ve never adequately given credence, which might have consoling implications about how we misbe- lieve ourselves, and so the world, that world beyond us which so often disappoints, but which sometimes shows us, lovely, what we are.


It’s a potent question: how do we misbelieve ourselves?

And, yes, perhaps we are, each of us, entirely lovely. We just need to be reminded.


Sending you love & hugs,

KB

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