rooted in dance?

This morning I am catching a few brief moments to jot down some thoughts from my recent list. Even as my feet are tired from an unplanned long walk in not the best shoes ☺, I turn to the topic of roots and dance.

When I think of being rooted and dancing, I have little movies that seem to run across my mind. I recall the first time I placed my head onto the ground resembling a Muslim form of worship. It was during a class on creativity and I did not recognize it as worship at the time, but there was something akin to an electrical charge that went through my body and I felt like I could stay in that position forever. I remember thinking at the time that I could see why part of Muslim prayer is to place the forehead onto the ground. This movement has carried over with me as I have become more active in my yoga practice (i.e. attending classes a little more regularly). Whenever I have the opportunity to go into “child’s pose” (see photo) I always noticeably relax. I have considered whether or not this is just a relief from the more strenuous poses and I imagine that is a bit of it. However, there is something innate in me that feels the groundedness and connection with the earth, with God, with life when I am in this position. Hmmmmm.

But on with the movie…I see trees swaying in the wind as Tess suggested in her comment to this post. I am reminded of a woman in the park I saw the other day. She was standing very still next to a huge tree. I did not want to stop and stare but I cannot get this image out of my head. It was like she and the tree were one. I sensed a gentle swaying in her alongside the mammoth oak. It was as if they were dancing and praying together even though their movement was almost unrecognizable. They were both grounded and dancing.

Shortly after I wrote this post, I was sent an e-mail that spoke of the root chakra. When I did a little research I found many more interesting connections between this “root” and dancing. This little piece really resonated with me:

“Dancing is very good for grounding. In the summer, go barefoot. House cleaning and cooking is also grounding. Hug a tree, take care of your plants.”

In my NIA (no impact aerobics) class, we are advised to do the class without shoes because this provides us a greater ability to feel the earth (or in this case the gym floor), which again enhances that sense of being grounded. My favorite little vignette in this current movie happened the other day near the end of class when we were able to move with our own rhythm throughout the room. For a few brief moments, I felt very beautiful and light and flowing (as opposed to the often clunky and cumbersome feelings when trying to follow the graceful teacher ☺). It was as if I were floating just above the ground. I was truly dancing to the rhythm of my own soul and, paradoxically, even in this ‘floating’ there was the strong sense of connection to everything. Grounded, methinks. ☺

Many many more thoughts come to mind as I think of dancing and being grounded, but alas the day calls me to move forward for now. It is a glorious day with much to look forward. So, for now I will pause with these questions. Where are the places you feel most grounded? When are the times you want to dance? Do the two hold any connection for you?

pondering...

Oh, I really want to write a post today and tell you all that has been muddling around in my brain these days, but I feel a bit rushed with a soccer tournament in an hour and weekend company on the way. Alas, this post is more a reminder to myself so I will come back to these thoughts soon. So here are a few:

• the relationship between being rooted and dancing
• considering what it looks like to explore God outside of traditional Christian boundaries
• the intention of the heart. what happens when we seek God wholeheartedly?
• listening to the “niggles” of our gut
• what does the “narrow path” really mean?
• what if God is love, period?
• the both/and of life. paradox.

I hope you will choose to think alongside me. Cheers!

powerful women's motto

this is dedicated to all of the amazing wonderful women in my life. (if you are reading this, that means YOU!) you rock!!!

Live your life in such a way that when your feet hit the floor in the morning, Satan shudders & says...'Oh sh!#....she's awake!!'

(this was sent to me from another strong courageous grace-filled woman. thank you!)

vines, threes & serendipity???

It is gray this morning. I was expecting sunshine and it has not decided to arrive quite yet. There is a post bubbling around in my brain about roots and vines, but instead of letting the words flow out of my pen, I myself have remained rooted here in my cozy bed.

I sit here pondering about the serendipity of life. Is it God’s plan? Is it random energy or merely coincidence? Or is it something I make up in my brain to make sense out of things that otherwise might make no sense at all?

I wonder about the power of three’s and even where that idea even began. And lest you think I am on a total ramble, it is indeed the occurrence of three, serendipitous appearances of roots and vines that I am pondering. I hesitate in the writing, because words are not clearly forming yet the images stand bold in my mind and beg to be placed on paper and so I choose to give it a go.

Recently while having coffee with a dear friend, she began to relay an experience of her own. My friend has been experiencing a sense of flightiness and floating away and these senses have caused her some anxiety. In her story, she was seeking counsel and her adviser asked her to try and imagine herself as rooted to the ground with strong vines holding her in place. She has been curious about the imagery that was offered and was thus sharing it with me for my thoughts. While she spoke I tried to contain myself and continue to listen closely to her story. I myself was getting excited, because my heart did a little jump when she shared the imagery of the vines.

Why the ‘heart jump’? Well, just a few days earlier I was participating in an exercise called dynamic meditation where the goal is to exhaust the body and active thoughts so as to clear space to listen. (When I ‘clear space to listen’, it is my goal and hope to listen to God and I have found that God does indeed meet me in those spaces quite often.) Part of the exercise had us in an immobile state for 15 minutes. I must say it was quite painful physically and all my brain could do was attempt to figure out how much longer this would last and did not feel clear of thought at all!! ☺ However, when the music changed and we were given the opportunity to once again move, I found that my feet were planted to the ground. I could not move and actually had no desire to do the very thing I had been focusing on for the last 15 minutes.

As I stood there, a vision came into my mind of vines coming out of the ground and wrapping themselves around my right leg. They were beautiful like ivy and felt more akin to security than something binding or frightening. I stood there for a few moments and allowed myself to let the imagery sink in and then I physically reached down and gently unwound the vines so that I could move my legs and participate in the next part of the exercise. It was really a powerful experience on its own, and then to have my friend share virtually the same visual before hearing about my own was truly amazing. She and I both vowed to consider more what the imagery means for each of us.

The third instance came when I impulsively picked up (& bought) a book (Dare to Journey with Henri Nouwen) on my way out of the bookstore yesterday. Here is an excerpt from the first reflection:

“So we try to do more while our energies ebb away and we become like uprooted trees with our roots wildly groping for the sky. Thus we anxiously throw our arms toward heaven, praying for extra grace and special enabling, when instead we should be planted again in nourishing soil. That soil is not meant to make us do less, but to change our priorities so that we take time to be still. And in the stillness, find new strength and hope.” --Charles Ringma

So, there you have it. My little story of vines, threes and serendipity. I am still pondering what to make of it, but I must say the grounding feels quite nice. As always, thoughts and comments are welcomed. Peace. ☺

i stopped dreaming when...

How would you complete the statement: I stopped dreaming when… Have you ever considered that? Considered even what your dreams are? Or do you live in a closed off or fearful place where dreaming seems frivolous and unproductive? Do you perhaps consider that if you were to share your dreams with another that they might be met with ridicule and thus the dreams snatched out of your realm or buried deeper inside your psyche?

“I stopped dreaming when…” is part of an exercise I have participated in dozens of times. The goal is to just let the words flow and find their rhythm until you stop thinking about what you are saying. For many sessions the things that popped out of my mouth were based on childhood experiences that gradually moved upward through my adult years. And then several months ago, I was demonstrating this process and out popped “I stopped dreaming when I couldn’t dance.”

These words came out with a ferocity that surprised both the partner with whom I was working and especially me (probably me more so, because I had no clue from where they came.) Today, I started to write “while I have always enjoyed dancing” and then realized that is not really true. I thought I wanted to tap dance when I was about 5, but I think that was more a product of my mother’s urging. I did, however, really love the shiny black shoes with the wonderful clicking heels. I quickly decided though that I much preferred staying home to watch “The Three Stooges” and “Tarzan” on television over the discipline and embarrassment it took to learn the complicated steps in dance class.

I also grew up in the age where social dancing consisted of sock hops at which couples bobbed up and down to the beat of the music individually or else draped their arms around each other when the rhythm slowed enough to warrant closer contact. A neighborhood friend had aspirations to be a ballerina and occasionally worked with me to learn the five positions of her classical dance. I was never too sad when I couldn’t do them perfectly and definitely did not long for more time at the barre.

In middle school I made an embarrassing attempt to learn how to move and do a flip so I could try out for cheerleader. The results were near humiliating and I opted for cheering in the pep club instead of gyrating on the sidelines. Growing older I talked my first husband into a couple of “hustle” lessons, and later, my second into an evening of ballroom classes with other friends. Each time there was no lasting commitment and no lingering loss after the lessons stopped. I do, however, love a really great (and sometimes not so great) dance movie. My heart always sings when I watch the likes of “Dirty Dancing,” “Strictly Ballroom” or “Shall We Dance?”

All of this to say, I do not really consider the actual act of dancing to be what I was referring to in my exercise outburst. It feels bigger than dancing to me. It feels representative of something deep in my soul. It feels like a rhythm lost or possibly a dream or a gigantic culmination of loss. It feels like a loss that is sometimes too big for words. Even this writing feels really big for these pages. It does not feel despairing, but more like a mystery to be considered. It seems like much more to be explored which is exactly what I plan to do. In the meantime, however, I would love to know how you would finish this statement: I stopped dreaming when…

collage by lucy