Shall I write tonight as if nothing untoward is happening outside our doors? Shall I write and pretend there aren’t over 560 fires raging across this beautiful & majestic state of California? Shall I imagine a quiet summer evening, where the windows are all open, fresh air wafts in, and we’ve not a care in the world? No. Let’s acknowledge the chaos that engulfs us, but let’s also be attentive to the little miracles, the miracles that save the weary soul. I’m talking about the miracle of nature; like the hummingbird that came with such grace, visiting us on a friend’s deck tonight. I’m talking about the miracle of connection; like getting together with dearly beloveds, telling each other our stories and listening with big, open hearts. It happened this evening and it’s no small thing for me to tell you that we laughed and we cried. Together. The simple event of gathering with beloved soul sisters and sharing from the heart. I noticed the level of intimacy tonight. We’re not talking about superficial things these days, are we? And that feels good. It’s no small miracle that our collective conversations are shifting; deepening and taking on a new tone & urgency, one of making space for that much more love & compassion, understanding & gratitude. This afternoon, as I “doom-scrolled” through FB, looking at all the frightful photos of the fire, I came across a little miracle. It was a posting from a dear friend, a fellow dancer, in Ireland. She had written to the group of Open Floor Teachers, checking in on those of us based in California. I responded, as did others, thanking her for her kindness and thoughtfulness. She then wrote back, saying she wanted to join us in the zoom room tomorrow as an act of “solidarity and support”. And she invited her other colleagues from around the world to join her. Who knows who will be with us in the zoom room tomorrow as we dance, but what a beautiful gesture of kindness and compassion----to come dance with us in California. Beloved Dancers, there are miracles. We must believe in miracles, big and small. Let’s join together tomorrow and dance our souls home. Let’s join together and pray for rain to drench this land and douse the fires. May our dances be a prayer for the miracle of rain.
It's a small and joyous miracle for me to report that our beloved Lori Saltzman will be at the helm tomorrow.
Here’s the link for you: https://www.openfloordance.org/community-dances
Why, who makes much of a miracle? As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water, Or stand under trees in the woods, Or talk by day with anyone I love, or sleep in the bed at night with anyone I love, Or sit at the table at dinner with the rest, Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car, Or watch honeybees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon, Or animals feeding in the fields, Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright, Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring; These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place. To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, Every cubic inch of space is a miracle, Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same, Every foot of the interior swarms with the same. To me the sea is a continual miracle, The fishes that swim-the rocks-the motion of the waves -the ships with men in them, What stranger miracles are there?
~ Walt Whitman ~
(Leaves of Grass)
May you be blessed with an abundance of miracles!