Dancing alone in my studio this morning to the delicious melodies of my favourite Deezer playlist, how good it felt to move.
When I dance, I not only move my physical being, I move to the inner rhythms of emotions, sensations, pieces of information gathered in recent days, or memories gleaned during long walks in my neighbourhood of nine years.
Stirred by the splendour of nature outside my windows, I become the ghostly limbs of snow-shouldering trees dripping with salt dust, their faces lit up by the sun.
Inspired by the music’s voice, tone, pitch and vibration, anyway I move is okay. If I stumble, I open gently to the fall. If an ache surfaces, I lean into it, or softly sway around it.
I give my whole being permission to play, to feel, to explore, express, love. Grateful for the time to dwell in my own creative oasis. Here in my body, in this space, on this island, in the country, I find peace in the space of the “dance floor. A peace that allows me to connect deeply to what is.
I move with a passionate adoration for this life.