The Dancer Is Not Me, Not YetWalking again, the player in my pocket this time, I wander the trails and paths of the woods. I shiver as the wind hits me, pull my coat tighter, and hunch my shoulders as I walk, searching for that perfect spot, the sacred space, the place where the world and time disappear.The Dancer Is Not Me, Not Yet
I listen to the strains of my own music this time. My steps touching with the beats of the music, I drift aimlessly, knowing the place is here, but knowing that if I look for it I’ll never find it. My eyes unfocus, I concentrate on the music, the beat, the melody, and suddenly the clearing is in front of me.
Again I resistTravelling doing the path again, I hear the familiar footsteps in the clearing. I pause and peek through the trees, and indeed, she is there, music in her ears, dancing among the trees.Again I resist
Her skirt flows beautifully, and even in the chill breeze, her skin shines with a sheen of sweat. She has been here for a little bit, and looks like she will be here for a while longer. Her eyes closed, arms outstretched, almost imploring the universe to dance with her, her music heard only by her, mouth moving occasionally with no volume. Her spells to the world and her dance. This is real ma
Dancer 2Walking to the clearing, she startles a deer, which bounds off into the woods. She smiles as she watches it go, admiring the grace, beauty, and strength present in that stride.Dancer 2
Reaching the space between the trees, she takes off her coat and shivers. Her skirt doesn't keep her legs warm enough, and her shirt, while long-sleeved, doesn't keep the wind away. But that will change soon enough. A few quick stretches and she's ready.
Closing her eyes, she sways softly, gently, finding the beat and pulse. She listens intently as she moves, letting the music find her, ca
Dancer 1I've always got this image somewhere in my head. She dances there and I can watch her any time I want. She holds her hand out to me, but I can't take it yet.Dancer 1
And here is my little creative bit about her.
Walking onto the deserted beach, she takes out her music player and puts on her headphones. Tucking the player in an out-of-the-way place, she stands still as the music begins to play.
She closes her eyes and lets the music wash over her. Feels her cares, inhibitions, problems, worries, life drift away in a sea of rhythm. She smiles, feeling her shou
Reflections of SoulHis hair was so soft, I remember thinking.Reflections of Soul
It’s amazing the little things you notice sometimes. In the middle of a cold and sterile operating theater, my heart weighing like a thumping chunk of lead in my chest, my breath as cold as ice, the one thing that stood out was how soft my father’s hair was.
My sister hadn’t been able to enter the room, and I can’t blame her. I almost turn and ran myself the moment I saw his motionless form on the table. But I knew I had to go in, that I had to face the reality of the moment, or I would never be able to accept the truth.
I’d never seen it coming. I mean, I knew
My Dancer series...
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