While I haven’t written here in a while, the truth is I have
been writing a lot recently. My life is
taking a shape more familiar, as though I have finally begun to settle back
into that part of my bed that knows my form and habits. Questions I knew the answers
to but needed to hear aloud were asked of the people who held them and answered
to my expectations. The only reason I hadn’t sought them before is because I
had no interest in doing so, there was no road less traveled by more
interesting than the one I was on. So I took my time, enjoyed the sights until
I came to the next fork. And here, down that next leafy, untrodden path there
seemed to be something worth exploring. So I stopped and asked the crossroads
my questions, knowing that the road I had been walking would soon been declared
under construction, indefinitely. I had already started to turn, so there was
no slamming of metaphorical brakes, no curse of surprise at this change in
direction. I was simply walking, without an intended destination, simply seeing
where the path might lead. So I turn again and walk on, a new piece of the same
journey.
It begins where all my best journeys begin, with that
deep-rooted love of movement, with dance. That’s the first familiar shape, one that
brings great contentment, yet only seems to ever whet my appetite for more.
Last week, from Sunday to Saturday, I danced four times. It was much earlier,
however, when this crossroads first came into view, though barely recognizable
in the distance at the time. Dancing became words, words became letters,
emails, messages, texts. This new friend and I have three separate, unique
conversations going on in three mediums and have exchanged well over 40,000
words. At this point, that’s an understatement, we were nigh that when I sated
my curiosity and checked 5 days ago. So far the only thing we’ve discussed that
we don’t see eye to eye on is cheesecake. Her disappointment almost ended a
blossoming friendship (I jest), but I diplomatically pointed out that it would
make us better friends, for we would never argue over the last piece and at any
party where they served cheesecake, she would never have to feel guilty about
taking a second piece; she could just have mine. Thus I soothed the savage beast.
There are other differences, but as she and I haven’t approached them in our
discussions, neither shall I here.
Needless to say, I am intrigued by this new path, which I am
slowly strolling along. For now, a friend to walk beside who loves the same
books, movies, music, poetry, the beauty of the outdoors, hours spent in coffee
shops, dance. She lives about an hour and a half away, which fosters the
written contact that we are both enjoying. It is rather Zen, this road less
traveled by, so far just a being (gerund, not noun), of mutual respect and
interest in sharing our thoughts. I look forward to spending time with her in
person off the dance floor, as we have yet to do so for more than a passing
moment to catch our breath. I don’t attend dances to converse. The future is
unwritten, the past irrevocable.
As I mentioned briefly, this return to familiarity and
comfort as well as the new direction of my attention stems from a return to
dance. Since the workshop that renewed my interest, I have made it to “the
city” to dance three times, making it once every other week. A week ago Sunday
was a West Coast Swing dance in Spokane; Tuesday I taught my class, as I do
weekly; Friday I invited a student to come dance with me on my lunch break,
something we’re going to do weekly, on Thursdays; and Saturday we had our
community monthly ballroom dance, with a much more satisfying and well-balanced
turn out than we have had in ages. If things go as planned I will be dancing at
least twice a week with a trip to dance in Spokane no less than once a month
and likely twice, as well as attending the monthly dance. It will mean a
difference from dancing 4-5 times a month to dancing at least 11. I would
prefer more, but it’s a vast improvement. Twice a week I will continue to spend
more time teaching than dancing, but that is equally something I enjoy doing.
The one on one lessons/dancing on Thursdays will be the most rewarding, as I
have the opportunity to really focus and teach a student to be the kind of
dancer I’m used to and enjoy dancing with, something that I have as yet been
unable to do or find in this town. There is no romantic interest there, simply
teacher/student and love of dance. That’s a hard thing to explain to people
outside the culture, as dancing with someone frequently is often mistaken as romance.
In other news, work on The West Wind continues and hopefully will prove fruitful once I
release and market it, providing a means to move on to doing more of what I
love and less of this corporate white collar labor that leaves my soul aching.
I’m still aiming for the stars. Can’t hit what you don’t aim for.
