My eyes close in sweet surrender. All distractions evaporate as I melt into myself. It's just me, the space, and that music.
The beating in my chest slows to a pace I recognize as my own.
Breathe. Again, more deeply.
Air rushes out with a vengeance as if purging itself of poison. Bound energy escapes as random muscles twitch involuntarily. I imagine a thousand homeless birds circling in my head one by one coming to land on my outstretched arm.
Peace, you are home now.
A voice threatens my serenity. It calls from a distant place, requesting action. So soft and true as if asking for my trust. Swaying lightly on my feet, I open myself to its influence.
It instructs me to roll down through each vertebrae.
Dropping the head, bending the knees . . I roll.
And I rolled down, hanging by the thread my personal angel is holding above me. I feel like a puppet on a string.
That music gets inside and brings up all the hurt. Bent over, broken in half, I feel my body just hanging.
And I cry.
So much hurt. So much healing.
Not holding anything up I drop to the floor and lay my head to one side and cry.
The voice says to reverse and roll up.
I feel my body move. I think, this is therapy.
I open one eye and everyone is closing their eyes, obeying.
I feel safer and start down again.
That music . . Christ.
The pain seeps through the cracks and overflows.
So much hurt. I am a child. So sad.
Upon ending the cool down, I retreat to one corner of the floor to stretch. The other dancers didn't notice I was isolating myself. No one would understand why something so simple would get inside. How could they? I want to get down on myself and than I remember ..
Him. He blessed me with that moment. He held me and seeped inside through that music. He could see everything and still loved me. He wants to heal it and through things like this, he does.
No mortal reaches inside like that. It's just me and Him.