Dancing With Fear

The Dying Cedar by Anne Brigman 1906

In my dreams I am dancing with my fear, yes her, tight gripped sweet lipped protector, guardian and gateway to secret songs and the passage underground, or to the stars, depending on which road you meet her. I ask her questions and I question her answers. I watch the strange ways she moves, a few too many steps ahead, big-eyed deer disappearing between shadows, reappearing as bone-white light with a rabbit cloaked heart, racing, and wet new skin, a cold armor of certainty under which I see the softness she hides like treasure. She knows what is worth keeping safe until its ripening. The surface breaks on time, you can’t rush tidal creatures. She changes shape as soon as I think I understand her, so what can I do but love her ingenuity. I send her twirling and watch the ribbons unravel from around her throat, stones in her stomach dissolving like salt in a lake, too fast to hold form. I love her until she loves me back, telling her, “forgive me for taking so long, someone told me once to ignore you, and I listened, but I never could.” She reminds me of everything I have been and done despite it all. I remember, and we laugh until nothing is left, but me and the glow and the path becoming clearer, even if just in glimmers and sensations. The brambles that tear at my skin are just doing what they do. I’m learning to love them too.

I am here for thousands of tiny miracles clearing the path in a minefield of chaos. For being able to choose where and how I walk, or dance, or pause through it. For learning how to use decay for growth. For space to practice being human. For space to remember my divinity. For outstretched arms of understanding. For the capacity to receive the blessings of birdsong, blossoms, and tiny sprouts that burst through soil towards the sun. For nourishment in all realms. For courage and fear walking hand in hand. For golden waves of peace that permeate the cells and expand into every crack. 
For this moment being enough. For truth shining through layers of distortions. For trust restored after betrayal, inner and outer. For the creative impulse of aliveness that carries me through each moment. For knowing my life as my work and my art, and my gifts as the light creating shapes & meaning from the shadows. For finding wholeness after self abandonment. For knowing God through human kindness. For knowing God through beauty, heartbreak, and the potential to repair the fractures. For a vast heartscape that can hold it all, and remains sanctuary of light and possibilities. 


For unwinding, unlearning, and surrendering into the richness of unknowing. For loosening my grip. For old things becoming new again. For new things that recall their ancient nature. For hidden messages coming through at the perfect time. For the ability to see, feel, and translate the soul’s language. For a sound, or a scent, or a feeling that helps me remember. For a color that washes over me and strengthens me. For the way the light enters the windows in the morning, kisses from behind and the joy of dreaming the paths we desire. For the wind that sings its song through the trees. For the warmth that swirls and rises in my belly, returning all of me to me, present here for us. For the chance to be a spirit in the shape of person in a broken world that still holds so much magic. Thank you for being here with me.

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