Monday, April 15, 2013

Dancing Home

I'm currently reading Dance, the Sacred Art. The author suggests writing about how dancing feels. So:

I need to close my eyes and my mouth when I dance. Being in my body still feels mostly sexual for me; I didn't even realize that until I wrote it this minute. And thus it still feels body startles and betrays me by being primarily a tool for mens' use.

I dance small and tight. I don't want to be seen or take up too much room. My dancing is constricted like my life, like my thoughts. I worry about getting the steps done correctly instead of just dancing my truth.

I keep my eyes shut because I do not want to see or be seen. I don't want to connect. I have pockets of terror hidden deep within me. I cannot connect because then you will see my broken places, the places I'm ashamed of, where I've failed or been selfish. And though I know you all forgive me my ruined places, my fractures and wounds, I can't. Not yet. And seeing the love you all extend to me, breaks me down.

I don't know how to move through this relationship with my body. But I know I won't quit, because I believe it's leading my somewhere good.

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