There’s this noise in my head. “You’re not welcome here.”... Belonging is an active verb. It doesn’t come to you. You don’t receive it. You take it.
At first, I can barely gasp for air. I die. The 'old' life is squeezed out of me. The humble, vulnerable, naked human surrenders. I go from solitude to intimacy. Inside the hug- My heart beats with their heart. And then I have to let go. Present tense pushes out past tense. The smush of body weight against the floor feels like a full body hug.
...I'm not sure I've actually felt you. My imagination is probably sparked by movies and novels. I'm not sure I'm capable of being intimate. Have I made you something that I can't have? Have I put you so high up on a pedestal, that you're unreachable? I want to crawl up on your lap. I want to feel you squeeze me so tight I squeal.
"Dance is the Hidden Language of the Soul." ~ Martha Graham Here's my Youtube interview at Dance Camp NW