The Dance Season Begins

The heavy rain today seems to rise up from the earth to meet the drops falling from the sky. Quietly, I observe that I feel the tears of nature opening up opportunities in my own body, nourishing my strength while giving me the freedom to embrace the relief and fear of surrendering to Life.

My dance season began gently on Sunday as a natural, outdoor mass for Spring. With my two sons, I arrived to the dance grounds, welcomed by the land and the people on it with open hearts. With a toddler and a young boy, I knew I would not be going into the sweat lodge for purification with the others, but our prayers and joy would go into the sacred fire after it was complete in the little bundles of fabric and tobacco we’d made: prayer ties.

We greeted everyone and settled in, then the boys were hungry. We sat under a tree enjoying our food, the older boy using his toy shield as a plate, the younger one running off to explore a little and sneak food from his brother between bites and drinks. As we finished our meal, we heard the others coming down the hill to the dance field practicing the dance. It’s always best to practice before the sweat lodge takes away the rational memory. We joined them.

My older boy was uncharacteristically silent and the younger clung to me in a way he normally only does with his father, melting into my chest as if trying to return to my flesh. I danced this land pregnant, and carrying him when he was an infant, so maybe he was remembering that. This dance is both gentle and wild with joy. The jets of rising sound and the abandon of our fellow dancers surprised the boys out of their habits and into a kind of surrender of their own.

For me, having the boys present grounded me in a way I am not when on my own. I carried them with me and made it safe for them to be free in the experience while stabilizing myself. It was a perfect beginning for the season, distracting as it was to my mind. The steps I will follow in the rest of the summer are stable and thoughtful, rooted in family, protection, and deep, abiding love.

We played to pray, opening our hearts to the land and each other in the warm soft light, while our friends and teachers opened themselves to purity in the warm soft darkness. We climbed and rolled down the hills, played with last autumn’s leaves, tackled and comforted each other, defended the forces of good, breathed with the creatures around us and laughed with abandon. When my older boy found the dried form of a butterfly in the grass, it seemed like a sign that the change around and in us came from nature. We were ready to honor her when the sweat lodge ended, by sending her into the fire with our prayer ties and some discarded cords from last year’s dance arbor. The young one went with me, uncomfortable for the first time in the intense heat around the waning lodge fire. The older one, lay down on the grass with our tired companions out new from the dark womb of the Mother.

After a little rest, organization and a change of clothes, we were all ready for the ceremony. The boys went with me into the Sand Hill Crane dance, the older one leading us up the hill, the younger on my back, wearing white bands across our foreheads and shaking rattles to call the spirits. The younger one, who always makes music or noise with anything he can find, held the rattle but did not shake it once the dance began. He melted again into my back and stayed quiet and watchful until he was freed from the pack at the end. The older one became a warrior, opening to Spring, to protecting the land with his free whoops and daring the world with his fierce eyes. It was beautiful to partner with them on the adventure. With the boy on my back, grounding me more completely than before, I surrendered in a more gentle way than my son, more like the earth I represent than the sky and lightning he does.

So, this year, the season of prayer in the dance opens with family and tradition stabilizing the rest of my prayers. My feet and senses will not forget the love and joy of sharing the dance with my boys. My heart will open in a more connected way than before, bringing with me the dance I do every day to honor the beautiful spirits that graced my life by coming into it through this body. The gratitude opens more easily than ever in all my cells and cries out in wonder and relief. The rain today reflects it all around me.

Thank you for taking this journey with me.

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2 Responses to The Dance Season Begins

  1. Hello, My Dear says:

    I neither Tweet nor blog. I do, remember your first year at UVA. You taught me to breathe. BREATHE, Rebecca Emily Alexandra Lee!

    When you’re lost in the rain in Juarez
    And it’s Eastertime too
    And your gravity fails
    And negativity don’t pull you through
    Don’t put on any airs
    When you’re down on Rue Morgue Avenue
    They got some hungry women there
    And they really make a mess outta you

    Now if you see Saint Annie
    Please tell her thanks a lot
    I cannot move
    My fingers are all in a knot
    I don’t have the strength
    To get up and take another shot
    And my best friend, my doctor
    Won’t even say what it is I’ve got

    Sweet Melinda
    The peasants call her the goddess of gloom
    She speaks good English
    And she invites you up into her room
    And you’re so kind
    And careful not to go to her too soon
    And she takes your voice
    And leaves you howling at the moon

    Up on Housing Project Hill
    It’s either fortune or fame
    You must pick up one or the other
    Though neither of them are to be what they claim
    If you’re lookin’ to get silly
    You better go back to from where you came
    Because the cops don’t need you
    And man they expect the same

    Now all the authorities
    They just stand around and boast
    How they blackmailed the sergeant-at-arms
    Into leaving his post
    And picking up Angel who
    Just arrived here from the coast
    Who looked so fine at first
    But left looking just like a ghost

    I started out on burgundy
    But soon hit the harder stuff
    Everybody said they’d stand behind me
    When the game got rough
    But the joke was on me
    There was nobody even there to call my bluff
    I’m going back to New York City
    I do believe I’ve had enough

    • realeesky says:

      Breathing is how we get through, how we reconnect with right now, how we focus and raise experience to a higher lever.. Yes, I breathe deeply and remember little outside this moment and the whole of this life’s experience. Are you breathing in your life too?

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