Learning to Dance

Last weekend I watched my husband take a dance lesson at a local dance studio. The lead teacher was an effervescent young woman, fluid and catlike in her steps, hips loose and flowing, carrying herself with that unmistakable upright carriage of a dancer.

I was spellbound as I watched her teach the two step, swing, and salsa. She was so full of joy and welcome, you couldn't help but relax in her presence. Each person that became her partner bloomed in her guidance, like Cinderella at the ball. You knew whatever steps you made were okay, no matter how awkward - a part of learning to dance.

This image of the dance instructor arose at the end of the poem, surprising me. I didn't expect her to show up in my poem, but she did. I love it when that happens - when the poem takes the reins and leads me somewhere I hadn't imagined.

She was the perfect person to show up, because her radiant joy for every step of the dance is my yearning for myself, for the dance I'm dancing and learning.

Learning to Dance

“What we bring to the measure of our fear – or confusion or sorrow – is this capacity of loving awareness to say, 'Yes, this is part of the tainted glory of humanity. This is part of life, my life and others.' We all share in this.” - Jack Kornfield

In the night my body rocks through
waves of dizziness. In the morning
I rise later than I'd hoped. I panic,
feeling behind. It takes hours for
my body to settle, for my mind
to remember, “This is how it is
right now.” I tire from the tennis
match between the memory of who
I was and the reality of who I am today.
Why is acceptance so hard? Perhaps
it's because it moves, never steady
but a continual realignment with
the truth. Do I think less of myself
because I fear the nights? Do I think
less of myself because I wake panicked?
I don't want to measure how I'm doing
with how I'm doing. I want to let
the nights be the dizzy nights
and the mornings be the late mornings
and my body be my body. I want to let
me be fallible, open, awake, then contracting me.
I want to learn this new rhythm with the joy
of the teacher I met Saturday night -
light in her eyes, a smile for every
missed step, inviting each student to dance.

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With a grateful heart, Karly