Most people who follow my blog may know a little bit about me. That I have C-PTSD, that this is my “private” outlet for voicing what happens in my life. My journey that I may not want to share with everyone. Most of my friends don’t know about this blog. Very very few do.
So what do I do in my real life to heal? I DANCE. In fact, I co-own a dance/visual performance company in Canada. Dance is in my blood. I think I began dancing as soon as I could walk. It’s led me to the most beautiful places and people. My team is the most solid group of humans I could ever ask for. Who understand that dance is therapy to me. That if I’m not dancing with a fire inside, something is wrong.
I am forever grateful for the blessings we’ve been given. Last year we performed at 230 shows in 365 days! I’ve performed in front of upwards of 15,000 people.
Being in the public eye sometimes leads me to hide who I am. But recently, I’ve started talking about mental illness with almost everyone. Opening up. And to my great surprise not only were people accepting and loving, but they also opened up!
It’s been an incredible time of learning and growing.
Last week, was the one year anniversary of my mom’s death. I was performing at an outdoor music festival in the mountains. I saw butterflies all day around me. A common theme since she passed away. Mom, that dance was for you, and what a way to say hello! I love you. ❤
I think we so often get lost in our daily lives that we forget to dance. To remember. To live freely.
I hope you dance. I hope I dance. This day, and every day forward. With a fire inside.
I have sent you my invitation,
the note inscribed on the palm of my hand by the fire of living.
Don’t jump up and shout, “Yes, this is what I want! Let’s do it!”
Just stand up quietly and dance with me.
Show me how you follow your deepest desires,
spiraling down into the ache within the ache,
and I will show you how I reach inward and open outward
to feel the kiss of the Mystery,
sweet lips on my own, every day.
Don’t tell me you want to hold the whole world in your heart.
Show me how you turn away from making another wrong without abandoning yourself when you are hurt and afraid of being unloved.
Tell me a story of who you are,
and see who I am in the stories I live.
And together we will remember that each of us always has a choice.
Don’t tell me how wonderful things will be . . . some day.
Show me you can risk being completely at peace,
truly okay with the way things are right now in this moment,
and again in the next and the next and the next. . .
I have heard enough warrior stories of heroic daring.
Tell me how you crumble when you hit the wall,
the place you cannot go beyond by th e strength of your own will.
What carries you to the other side of that wall,
to the fragile beauty of your own humanness?
And after we have shown each other how we have
set and kept the clear, healthy boundaries that
help us live side by side with each other, let
us risk remembering that we never stop silently
loving those we once loved out loud.
Take me to the places on the ea rth that teach you how to dance,
the places where you can risk letting the world break your heart.
And I will take you to the places where the earth beneath my feet
and the stars overhead make my heart whole again and again.
Show me how you take care of business
without letting business determine who you are.
When the children are fed but sti ll the voices within and around us
shout that Soul’s desires have too high a price,
let us remind each other that it is never about the money.
Show me how you offer to your
people and the world
the stories and the songs
you want our children’s
children to remember.
And I will show you how I struggle not to change the world,
but to LOVE it!
Sit beside me in long moments of shared solitude,
knowing both our absolute aloneness
and our undeniable belonging.
Dance with me in the silence and
in the sound of small daily words,
holding neither against me at the end of the day.
And when the sound of all the declarations of our sincerest
intentions has died away on the wind,
Dance with me in the infinite pause
before the next great inhale
of the breath that is breathing us all into Being,
not filling the emptiness from the outside or from within.
Don’t say, “Yes!”
Just take my hand and dance with me…
© Oriah Mountain Dreamer, from the book The Dance