What we cling to

Hello, Loves.

It’s that time of the week again. . . . .time to think about the joy and sublime surrender inherent in Sunday morning dance. Yay!

It’s seemingly also that time again of fear and uncertainty, with the horrible surge in COVID cases. I’m still wrung out from the spring, not feeling emotionally ready for another round of this, but here it is, undeniably. And I know the coronavirus is affecting us all in different ways and to different extremes. A dear friend’s COVID test came back positive today, despite being asymptomatic. I’ve heard about a number of people who have friends and/or family members who are sick. It’s a scary time. There is so much chaos, cruelty, and pain in the world. So, the question is, what do we cling to? For comfort, for sustenance, for resilience. I’m finding solace in the little things; like shared laughter, like the beauty of a humming bird or a jacaranda tree, like a good home-cooked meal, like a well crafted novel, like meditation, like holding my husband’s hand or talking on the phone with beloved friends, and. . . . .. you knew this was coming. . .. . .like dance. Yes, because dance restores me in so many ways; my heart, my body, my soul. These elements of my being are renewed when I move my body to the rhythm of the beat, when I let go. And it helps enormously to see your beautiful faces in the zoom room! In these precarious times, I cling to the practices that soothe and sustain me. I dance. I hope you’re finding the time to do the things that nurture your well-being.

As tempting (and understandable) as it is to align with fear in these uncertain times, I’d invite us all to hold firm to the belief that there is good in the world, to cling to things like beauty, joy, justice, generosity, laughter, kindness, connection, and love. Yes, LOVE. Maybe what we’re being tasked with figuring out is how we can love more in this world; each other, ourselves, spirit, the earth. Pour in the love, my beautiful friends! Just pour it in. The world needs our love and nurturing right now.

Speaking of love, it pleases me to report that our beloved Jennifer Burner, who is the very embodiment of loving kindness, will be providing the soundscape and skillfully holding space for us tomorrow morning.

Please come join us by clicking this link:

I have two beautiful poems to share with you today.

From “The Cure at Troy”

By Seamus Heaney

Human beings suffer.

They torture one another.

They get hurt and get hard.

History says, Don’t hope

On this side of the grave,

But then, once in a lifetime

The longed-for tidal wave

Of justice can rise up,

And hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change

On the far said of revenge.

Believe that a farther shore

Is reachable from here.

Believe in miracles

And cures and healing wells.

The Way It Is

By William Stafford

There’s a thread that you follow. It goes among

Things that change. But it doesn’t change.

People wonder about what you are pursuing.

You have to explain about the thread.

But it is hard for others to see.

While you hold it you can’t get lost.

Tragedies happen; people get hurt

Or die; and you suffer and get old.

Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.

You don’t ever let go of the thread.

Okay, beautiful dancers, don’t let go of the thread of your very essence, stay in contact with the core of your being and let it be your guide.

I love you and hope to see you on the dance floor.

Deep bow of gratitude,


1 comment

Recent Posts

See All

Lifting the Oar

Dear Beloved Dancers, Today was one of those slow-mind sort of days where I never quite felt like I woke up, you know? I felt dazed and sleepy all day despite a good gym workout in the morning. I re

The dance of vulnerability

Hello Loves, This week I learned something about the vulnerability of asking for help. My beloved husband has had some serious health challenges in the last two weeks or so, culminating in outpatient

in love with life

Hello, Loves. Guess what! I’m in love! Yeah, remember when we used to dance together and over the course of two hours of movement, we’d shake loose everything we didn’t need and somehow that would