Dancer in the dark

In times of change it can feel like we are moving along corridors blacker than the darkest nights. Places and spaces where night blindness takes us to the depths of our primal fears. The colours so muted as the dank cloak heavily descends harbouring our ability to breathe. All movement is painful, constricted. 

In times like these what do you do? Do you fight? So you freeze? Do you allow yourself the gift of surrender? 

So much time is spent in the realms of fear when we face the unknown. change. Mini and major deaths of something that once was. Our fingernails clinging to the last threads of hope of what was…or could have been…nearly. Maybe. 

Or…there are those of us that throw the threads to the fire with a rage. A ‘f**k it’ I knew. Turning our backs on that which was with harsh dismissal. A refusal to feel the pain of what is actually there. 

A moment to breathe denied on each level. A moment to thank that which was. For the moments shared and experienced. We rush to fill the gap. Afraid to be empty just for a moment. 

Yet. What if. 

What if we began to allow ourselves to see, honour and know the point at the betwixt? The point of what was. What is yet to become. The place of the void. 

Nature has cycles. We have cycles. Relationships have cycles. Yet we rush to end. To fill. More more more. 

What if less less less was the medicine required to fully know? To fully allow unfold what is truly waiting for us. The medicine of change. Not something to be rushed but something to step by step breath by breath experience?

To learn to dance in the darkest of nights moves this through our bodies. Moves the stagnation. Shifts through the what was…what could be…what is to pause. To breathe. 

Can you learn to dance with the smallest of steps with the Void that is the change?