Flowing

I have no rhythym. Absolutely none. Which makes it very hard to dance, and whirl, and feel like a free spirit when the music hits me. I was always one of those people who liked holding up a wall during a school dance. Or the one who was always happy to go and get the drinks when clubbing.

Once, I thought I could dance but that was because I was at a hippy-love music festival in Angel Fire, New Mexico where everyone was under some sort of drug or alcohol induced vibe and hence, rhythmic. You know the scene. All kinds of wacky people, spinning and twirling recklessly into each other, normally covered in mud and sporting some sort of bizarre variation of dreadlocks. Great fun if you could lose yourself completely. Unfortunately, I never managed to do just that and so, combined with the fact that I liked washing my hair, I never really achieved true hippiedom.

I dance in secret these days, when the kids are at school or Rosebud is napping. Nothing fast and furious, just swaying along to my daily rhythym. There are other times when I feel like I'm dancing as I'm meant to be: the days when I telemark down the mountain, or run through the trails, or when I sing and bounce along behind the dogs on the cart. The rhythym flows and I feel so good. Is that even really dancing? Maybe not, but it's got that same magic for me all the same.

There is one woman I've met in my life who can dance, and spin, and work magic with her rhythym. She may not know this, but I was beyond jealous of her a few years back. She's a beautiful soul and people are drawn to her, like hummingbirds to flowers. She's graceful and open. Things I felt I wasn't at the time. I know she's had her fair share of life in her life, but overall, she seems to radiate peace.

Even more so when she dances with her hoop.



Every time I watch her, I'm awed by the simplicity and beauty of movement.

Find your flow, your rhythym, your hoop, and dance.