In The Beginning
In the beginning, she was alive and passionately danced on the river's edge, slowly progressing to the colossal grey rocks that stood with superior strength in the raging currents. She had no apprehensions then. Her soul was stimulated by the river's fury. She was the dance. The stars adorned her exclusive stage then, laughing and singing with her. The invincible river danced with the stars, and there she was: the dance within the dance. Flowing, moving, and running with the wind upon the colossal rocks that presented her natural stage. Twirling with the currents and iridescent as the stars, she danced. The dance was hers, a secret unto herself, or so she thought back then. Her dance goes on somewhere out there in the eternal universe. Photons have made sure of that. Even so, the dance was hers alone. A secret on a quiet stary evening in her land of Oz. In the beginning, she was free. She loved that taste of freedom. The spirit that breathed within her was fervent. Spirit spoke to her often then and she listened. It was a magical time. Spirit told her then to dance like the invincible river, to become the river for it would tell her stories of places it has been and things it has seen. She became the river and she danced. She was one with the furious currents and the thunderous roar. Her dance was passionate and powerful then. She had visions that reached far beyond the mind itself. No one had ever seen her dance under the stars with the raging river. The memory is hers alone.
Somewhere in time, she lost her dance. She didn't listen anymore and Spirit became quiet. She died inside.
Then one magical and mystical night, she was wakened out of her mortality. Like the Phoenix, she was summoned to rise out of the cold ancient ashes and recreate the dance. It was as though thirty-six years of quiescent energy burst forth with a force like the creation of time itself. He was a part of the synchronistic event that came to kindle what was left in her. She sits in absolute awe at how the circumstances unfolded. She was dead and rebirthed in order to complete her dance. The realization of this was not hers at the time.
The fear of awakening causes too much anxiety. She questioned, "I was dead, why couldn't I remain that way?" It is so much easier to lie quietly in slumber and not experience those things that wound the heart much too deeply. It is safer by far to give little pieces of your heart to the whole world than to give your whole heart to just one person. She considers her heart to be like fine crystal sitting on a fragile shelf in a dark corner. Not easily seen by those who do not search. She likes it that way. Her heart belongs to her and is not easily given away. This is not to say that her heart is not full of compassion, it is! She can easily fill her life with benevolence and still avoid breaking. One always sees the scars on things that were shattered if one gets close enough. It's important to keep fine crystal hidden, so it doesn't get broken. But it seems one can't always keep things hidden.
Because of some preordained plan he discovered the crystal. He was essentially the only one who ever had. He polished it and handled it with care but she couldn't let him keep it. The apprehension she felt was too much to process. Turmoil stormed within her. Sabotage: a deliberate act of destruction. Fine crystal breaks too easily. She had to send him away. Anger tore through her. She was angry at the universal powers that ordained the synchronistic event. Anger: an emotion bred in order to survive. She didn't long for survival, just an easy quiet passage through life. She didn't recognize loneliness. She cried, "Why did it have to discover me?"
He was gone. Secretly, she hoped he'd come back; secretly, she hoped he wouldn't. She was too used to doing things her own way, I think. She liked to come and go as she pleased. She learned to do what she liked to do and more importantly when she wanted to do it. She didn't need anyone to disagree with her about the colour of the sofa or which painting she should buy. Of course, she felt remorseful for sabotaging something that perhaps could have been good; however, it remains, he didn't need a mother and she certainly didn't need a husband! She told a friend of hers one day, in jest, that she discovered she had at least six thousand expectations that a man would have to fill if he expected to have her heart. Her friends response was, "And you also have six thousand ways to sabotage a relationship as well!" Maybe she does, maybe we all do. Nevertheless, she was now awakened and left questioning if this synchronistic event was a cruel joke that the universe decided to play.
Everything happens for a reason. She can understand that now. The most amazing thing to her was how the events all came together and the total extreme energy she felt. She realizes now that he wasn't meant to be with her, he was only a channel to waken her from death itself. On one introspective day a thought came to her as she questioned this feeling of energy, "Remember the silent power?" You felt it as a child if you were lucky enough! It was the feeling you got as you held the warm dirt in your hands, as you climbed and held that tree, as you lay in the warm green grass, as you watched the clouds turn into different shapes, as you felt the sweet rain on your face, as you spun dizzily in circles, as you danced on the river's edge, as you felt the energy! Remember being alive? Remember Spirit? Remember the dance?
There it was, the answer: the dance. It was essential to be awakened so she could live her dance. It was not enough to dance for others. She has a wonderful dance that lies inside her. It is her dance and hers alone that brings her life. It is hers to dance on those quiet stary evenings in her Land of Oz. Her spirit speaks to her now and she listens.
She walks off the beaten trails. She stands in the trees near small brooks. She takes deep breaths and tries to empty her mind so Spirit can reach her. She closes her eyes and concentrates on the sounds around her. Spirit calls her to listen to the stories of nature. She listens and hears the different voices in the water from the right and the left of her. She hears the leaves in the trees whispering to her. The flies buzz by with their small poetic voices as they pass her by. The chatter of the squirrels tell her tales of the season. Songs of the birds lend music to her ears. Slowly she opens her eyes and takes notice of every variation of greens and browns and the various colours and shapes of the flowers and the trees. She gazes upwards to the tops of the trees and notices their heights. She feels small and insignificant but she knows better. Through the trees she sees the sky painted with a few grey-blue clouds and rays of soft light coming through the dark branches. She absorbs as much as she can. She listens to Spirit now and she dances once again as in the beginning.
Written by: Beverley ©
Music: "Maiden of the Wood" by Grey Wolf Cub
