Soul Dance

When I left for my Just 10 walk this morning, I was pursued by frustration.  Number One Son rarely gets up in a good mood.  This morning he was particularly unpleasant.  He is an expert on "crapping on the happy."  I coined this phrase some time ago to try and snap him out of his cesspool of morning sadness.  It worked for a while.  Then, the novelty of mom saying "crapping" wore off.  I didn't want to bring it up a notch by resorting to more colorful expressions so I'm back at the drawing board.  This morning,  I wanted nothing to do with dreaming up new strategies.  I wanted to escape.  Racing out the door, I started my walk moving like the proverbial bat from hell.

Maybe I was more Incredible Hulk than proverbial bat.  My pace seemed very halting and awkward.  I felt like more a lumbering giant with poor motor skills.  I didn't belong in this body.  My soul is a graceful little dancer.  Outside I was Hulk all the way.  I was out of rhythm, an alien inside my own shell.  Behind me were all the cares of my world, the lingering miasma of morning madness.  I struggled to deal with it all.    A huge green wall of negative self talk started to appear.  The Hulk was unhappy. 

Finally, I came to a full mental stop.  Outside, the Hulk was still lumbering onward so as not to draw too much attention from passersby.  Inside I knew that I had to practice acceptance.   I had to say, "Yes" to my life, the good, the bad and the ugly.  Of course the selfish part of me wasn't exactly happy with this turn of events and started to protest.  Inside, I whine,  "I'm just not feeling the love."  Almost instantly, I hear a reply in my head.  "LOVE IS NOT ALWAYS A FEELING."  The stubborn idiot that lives inside me wanted to protest.  I told her to keep quiet.  It was time to listen but the universe/God had fallen silent again.  There were no further instructions, no further comments or directives.  I was alone, thoughts randomly streaming, waiting for more.  Nothing else came.  I still wasn't feeling the love but I was going to accept it.

There on the trail, somewhere between the high school baseball fields and the old highway intersection, I got to "Yes."  The Hulk had gone.  I'd been touched by love without feeling it.  Instead, I knew it.  Outside, I was not yet the graceful dancer but I was closer to it.  My movements through time and space felt like my own.   Now, I moved more fluidly like rushing water and like water I was a cleanser, washing out the dark corners of regret, cleaning away the residue of defeat, letting go of the morning madness that had chased me out the door.  These unwanted pieces were still there, buoyed upon the water as driftwood floats on the tide.  They were not the water.  I was.  These unwanted pieces will always be with me in one shape or another but I can let them float upon the surface.  I don't have to swallow them whole but simply let them be. 

Then, ahead on the trail, was a neatly dressed man, walking two dogs.  He slowed and moved to the side to let me pass.  I paused and looked at the dogs.  One exuded youth.  I asked the man, "Puppy?".  He said, "Yes, 12 weeks."  The dog loving the attention, placed paws on my kneecaps.  Without thinking, I petted her soft head.  Somewhere deep inside me came these words,  "Ah, you're going to be beautiful someday?"  I spoke them aloud to the dog.  Later, as I walked away, I realized I was also speaking to myself.  The outside will continue to age,  I will have my Incredible Hulk days and through it all the inside is becoming just a bit more beautiful.    "Yes," I said.  "Yes, life make me beautiful."  My soul was dancing.