I don't have permission to post either of these photographs. As for the first, only my face is showing so that's OK. I don't suppose NM is going to be all that happy about the second but I'm going to do it anyway until he insists I take it down. Maybe he won't.
It's her face, you see. I don't know if she's laughing, howling or caught somewhere in between. And yes, it matters and it doesn't. For the record, she's laughing but there's something primal going on there that we lose or let go of or forget we ever had when we become ever so much more than 20 and it's not just women, men too are guilty, maybe far more so of losing themselves in the fray.
I swear to the gods I will always dance in the rain.
I chose not to sit down because I had to get in the car, I didn't have a towel and it was not my car. I'll tell you though, it was a close call.
We were at the Dawn Dance to dance until dawn (that should be obvious, yes?) but you don't have to stay and when one of you is ready to sleep in the car (because you can't sleep in the building on the floors or even the chairs because of the fire codes) as far as I'm concerned, it's time to leave, so this is on the way out at about 3:30 I think. I might have made it to 7 AM. Yes, I would have made it to 7 AM and I would like to someday make it from 8 PM to 7 AM just to do it at least once but I didn't sit out a single dance (and I would need to do that to make it all night), I was stomping myself into the ground (and it was a harder floor than the Fall Ball) and had no intention of pacing myself and was already half way to pulverizing my spine when it was time to go. I'm feeling much better today which means I did no harm whatsoever.
But yesterday was hard, hard, hard. Hard.
I can have my sadness and I can sit in the stillness and be quiet with it but I can't sit *in* it. I can just be with it. And I can think about it, but no more than that. So the photograph below stays, at least for now. I was already sad the night the photographs were taken but not so sad as to be momentarily creamed by it until the next day until I poked at what I already knew was there and knocked myself senseless and bouncing like one of those small hard grapefruits Florkow wouldn't let me pick up and eat off the ground in Costa Rica.
I've been bounced harder. I bounce harder. I do bounce.
Anyway. I was sad at Inverness too, now wasn't I? Sitting in the sand. I was sad when I returned. I don't mean to give the impression that I am sad all the time or even most of the time; I'm having periods of intense feeling and some of those feelings have been predominantly sad. Annnnddddd....
I'm OK with that.
As long as I don't start struggling. Or don't struggle too hard.
I had a brilliantly wonderful time at the Brattleboro Dawn Dance. I want to go back. I want to go back right this second. Maybe even more than I want to go back to Flurry but it's a different sort of want. All those people in the same room for all those hours waiting for the sun to come up. Dancing.
We could all use to do a little bit more of that.
I am not a big Peter Gabriel fan, at least not overall. There are some things he's done that are heart stopping and a lot of crap (imho). But I found this with Natalie Merchant and I'd listen to Natalie Merchant singing nursery rhymes and find it profound and also Michael Stipe and for me it doesn't get much better than this. Or at least I imagine it doesn't because I don't have my earbuds in the office and I had to listen quietly, very quietly for just a little bit before I decided it was *not* an abomination.
So. This. I just have it. If I fight it, it has me.
For you analysts out there who may need to look this up to see what it means, don't bother, it's Peter Gabriel at his most ridiculous and it will totally ruin it. Just listen. It's OK to look up the lyrics if you can't understand them. :-)