can we talk about gifts?
so, remember when i set the intention to be more open?

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to, you know, receive the abundance of my life?
(i blabbered about that, right?)
well, can we talk about a the gift the universe dumped on me today?
it was kind of fucking great.
remember when i got home from burning man and talked and talked and continued to talk about dancing? i am pretty sure in the middle of all that talk, i declared pretty passionately “i found my soul on the dance floor“?
well. i really wasn’t kidding.
’cause i recognized my soul again today on the hardwood dance floor of my kitchen.
did i ever tell you i wanted to be a ballerina when i was kid? (like almost every other five-year-old girl). but i devoted my body to soccer instead. years and years of nothing but chasing a ball. yes, i loved it. but i still loved dance, too.

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i envied a childhood friend who danced ballet as long as i played soccer. she claimed she wasn’t the best, something about her feet. i always thought she was beautiful.
and free. so, so free.
did i ever tell you how much i hate reality t.v shows but how much i love, love, love so you think you can dance? and how i cry every episode? the only formal dancing i’ve ever seen was a ballet in first grade (i fell asleep) and the dancing of my childhood friend. so of course i sat for long, long weeks in front of the television, pointing always to every dancer and saying, “that’s fucking beautiful.” (because i am really graceful, too).
did i ever tell you when i was a kid i created dances with my friends and performed them for my mom? and the kids at my day care? (surprisingly, i had a lot of friends).
did i ever tell you how i believe in past lives (more on that another time)? i do. and i was definitely a dancer a one point. i feel that down to my bones. (why else would my knees hyper extend and why else can i balance so well and make nice lines? useless talents?)
so, no wonder i envy dancers. dancers are artists who create with their bodies. there are stories in those moves. colors. images. i wanted that.

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last summer i reconnected with the dancer in me again. we rejoiced in an open desert. then, she left.
and came back today. we visited, fell in love all over again. she whispered to me, “just move”. for one, solid song i thought nothing. not a single fucking thought. i just moved. but even that’s not quite right. something moved me.
kind of how something spills words into my conscious and asks for a transcriber. something about writing in a fluid trance isn’t just me. there’s something working through me to paint the world in words. something worked through me today in the kitchen. i opened up and received liberation. and when i came to, wheezing with exertion, i cried.
rain clouds spilled. from the couch i watched rain drop through sun rays. ever the scientific genius, i smiled and said, “i bet there’s a rainbow outside!” and promptly ran/tumbled/walked to the window. to see a streak of rainbow, bright above the hill.
then i cried a little bit more.
(because i am cheesy and think everything has meaning).
how do YOU see your soul?
namaste
zoe
(p.s: i wrote this yesterday)
(p.p.s: the best, best, best part? usually after any dancing i walk around with a sore, inflamed low back. yesterday (and today!) not only do i feel no pain, but i feel strength!)
(p.p.p.s: happy valentine day. to be honest, i am not a fan. for various reasons (maybe i’ll discuss this tomorrow?) but mainly because i believe in loving every day. regardless, have a beautiful, love-filled, chocolate-and-rose-fueled day!)











