learning to walk...

for the past three years, i have preached at the top of my lungs, to anyone who would listen--how can i walk alongside someone if i cannot walk alone.

i've quoted and lived by the words of great women who were independent thinkers, feminists, rule breakers--women i respect. their words offered me strength through overwhelming self-doubt.

but, what do you do when you've accomplished a goal? what do you do after you've reached the peak of mount everest? faced your greatest fear? become comfortable in and accepting of your skin?

i believe you can continue to grow-it never has to end. it's not necessary to carry the torch of one word, the one point, and never grow beyond it. there is something else just beyond... we are the sum of our parts, our experiences, and we are beautiful for it.

i've looked in the mirror and looked my fears directly in the eye. i am stronger than they are. i am more than doubt, more than desire, more than independence, more than hope. through the extremes of my heart, i've found the comfort of my soul.

i said, how can i walk alongside someone if i cannot walk alone.

today, i realized, i am ready.

dancing to maw'ood...

it's winter intensive time. four weeks of two hour sessions in which we are utterly submerged in that little activity we call belly dancing.

before we get our shimmy on, we learn about the music. this piece is a wing dinger. we are dancing to a short, modern section of maw'ood. the original piece isn't for wimps. it's nearly an hour long.

the beauty of the old classics is that they are like symphonies with movements and themes and stories and orchestras. they are meant to transport the audience, to be experiences. these are not three minute, three note wonders. these are bloody intense.

the catch is that they are mostly tragic-real grab your heart and twist it till you pass out from the sadness types.

maw'ood will not disappoint. it's brilliant and beautiful, but horribly sad. here is a link to the lyrics. the short version? i have a crappy track record at love, i'll never be happy, it always ends in crushing devastation, but my heart is optimistic and wants me to try again, i resist, it keeps up the hope, i give in, i meet someone, things start nice, things are awesome.

"the moon rose
and fear withdrew
the wind became warm
and the night listened."

pose and bow. that last little bit is something of ecstasy. that is the dancers version, nice and tidy, wrapped up with proper flourishes for spins and accents. lovely for the stage.

but, that's not how it really ends. that's the saccharine version. the real 55 minute version continues with all of its orchestral and vocal richness.

in the song... she leaves. of course she does. he's crushed. CRUSHED. this is not harry met sally and there is no happy ending. over and over, love sucks the life out of our singer, but he goes back again and again.

this last weekend, i studied the lyrics and listened to the entire long piece a couple of times. i empathized with the song a little too well.

tonight, my teacher, my mentor, performed the choreography we are just beginning to learn to the short tidy dancers' version. she danced beautifully with all the feeling and intensity this song deserves.

i cried. love is hard. it takes incredible guts to try again after failure.

i cried. not only because my teacher is a lovely dancer, but also because i knew that when the song ended, the singer and the dancer would be in the throws of love and ecstasy.

i cried because it would end too soon.