. . .the rhythms of the drums collided with my heartbeat and spread into my core, tempting my hips to swing and enticing my feet to step, step, step. In a moment's notice, the wildness that had been kept at bay, almost forgotten, almost hidden forever, returned to the surface and filled my cells with renewal. There was no difference in the way the music seduced me into moving. No difference in the way I responded. Beat, beat, beat. Pulse, pulse, pulse. Lost in a meditative rhythm, I faced myself in the past, faced who I used to be, and challenged her with my current existence. What could have been triumph and control became a blending of energy, a compromise of existence that erupted into a symphony of layered destiny. Jade held in my left arm, I released the wildness with my right. Jetta prompting me for validation . . . "look at this Mom . . . see how I'm dancing . . ." and I pleased her with approval. Accomodating the present, I continued to dance, drumming up the fire that once was there. And as I simultaneously chose to reveal this part of myself to the girls while willing myself to allow this time of inner process, inner rhythms, the destiny of this wildness shown in the inherent wildness of the girls. The rhythms moved them as they moved me, in their small, growing bodies. The pulse pushed Jetta to move her feet, free her hands, and shake her head, rivalling the best medicine woman with years of drumbeat dancing behind her. The landscape changed with the needs of the little ones, and I moved with the changes, letting Jade move in and out of the room, holding her, putting her down. But still, my feet kept stepping, my soul kept singing, and my heart kept matching the beat . . .
Today I danced to a new cd that had an all too familiar soul. My own soul met it with reunion and my mind and emotions followed. This part of me has been on the shelf since my fifth month of pregnancy with Jetta. My wildness has waited patiently while I indulged the civilized preschool songs that work too insistently at not being "excitable." There is only so much trance potential in the latest rendition of Wheels on the Bus! But today as I realized that if I were going to get that time to renew my connection with rhythm it was likely going to be with the girls present rather than with them away, I indulged for just a moment. That moment was long enough for me to put the cd on and hit play, long enough for me to let go of any inhibition I might have had in front of Jetta, long enough for me to light a candle and turn off the lights so we could find the rhythms of our souls and let our bodies move to those rhythms. Unstructured. Not always pretty, and visibly, probably pretty awkward, our bodies worked out the energy stagnance that too easily occurs with mundane living. Like toxins stored in muscle tissue and fat, the body stores emotions, experiences, and energy that need to be purged in some form or fashion. Free-form dancing will do the trick.
For several years before my mothering role arrived, I led women and men in movement. Sometimes it was structured movement for the purpose of holistic fitness, and sometimes it was wild movement for the purpose of whatever the heck we chose. This was a part of my process, almost daily, a part of who I was. And as I begin the steps of my own healing, my own ascendance back into myself, it was only fitting that I begin it with steps to some wild rhythms.