i dream of hands steadier than mine
                                    to hold a sometimes nervous heart
                                    a clammy palm
                                    and a tired face
                                    with calm fists
                                    worn and experienced and wise

of a mouth that kisses my brow                                       
                        and hand and jaw                                       
and don't neglect my collar nor lips                                       
                                     

but hands that are strong and gentle and beautiful
know how to hold my face
my dreams
my weakness
my heart
with care and love and curiosity

eyes that see and wonder with mine                                       
once in a while kiss with open eyes                                       
and a nose that breathes me in                                       
digs into my neck to find my clavicle                                       
                                   

but hands that understand and know
veins that tell old stories of passion and anger
knuckles that have healed
scars and lessons learned
truth and joy and wisdom

                                        And love.

Eyes scan the room and eventually a pair lock down on Isabel. Eye contact is made and he approaches, crossing the dance floor. His right hand extends and asks, "Shall we dance?"

Isabel curtsies with eyes cast down to look at the gentleman’s shoes. (Because she likes boy shoes and wishes she could wear them.) And responds by placing her hand in his, meeting his gaze.

In the blink of an eye, like a swift silent breeze, he realizes Isabel has dipped him. Yes. She has dipped him. This is how the dance starts.

No, not really. The truth is I dance like a gypsy at the gospel church's Sunday service. I let my body guide me and (as much as humanly possible) be the embodiment of perfect flow with the universe. I love it. I dance alone and feel absolutely free. I trust my body the most when it responds to beats only I can decipher.

That evening, the gift of dancing also lit a few other unexpected light bulbs:

1.     The problem of choreography

Choreography is not particularly pleasurable for me. I realized I am predisposed to doing and being my own. I love it. I appreciate being able to dance my own dance to my own beat. I feel free and creative and expressive and grounded and connected. I feel the trust permeate through my body. I feel integrated.

I also feel how choreography confuses me. I feel my body disrupt in flow and identify the choreography as something externally being imposed on me. I can't follow. A part of me just wants to run away and go back to dancing alone. Back to being free and back to how I was accustomed to knowing my essence.

Clearly this is problematic. Choreography is about respect, about cooperation, about integration, about a system that works. Choreography is common ground for other souls to relate to. Its good to know. No excuses. Choreography is another language. Another way to relate. The soul needs to relate, at least mine does.

2.     I don't know how to lead or be led

I took ballroom dancing in high school as part of the physical education curriculum in junior year. The thing is, I went to an all girl high school and miraculously, my lovely and patient partner was tinier than me. As a result of being the taller one for this very rare moment in time, I learned how to lead like a man. I learned to dance like a man before and now I'm learning to be a woman. (HA!)

Fast forward to last week - a kind and patient boy named Chris asked me to dance. Apparently I gave off the impression I knew what I was doing. Bless his soul. Watching from afar this encounter must have been hilarious. I kept putting my hands where they would be as if I were the boy. I was worried it was too difficult or too confusing to follow me. Will my partner be able to keep up?

So..this is a problem. We are beings relating to other beings. How can I relate properly if i can't allow myself to be led from time to time, and perhaps lead? There are roles to be played at different times. And that is ok.

3.     The prospect of dancing with a partner

I wonder if he can keep up. I wonder if he has the patience. A part of me would just rather not have to be responsible for him.

It seems to me that dancing with a partner also involves having faith and trust in the partner's abilities and possibilities. I caught myself thinking if my partner and I were properly matched. If he could keep up. If I could. If the universe would send the right partner. My thoughts seemed to be symptomatic of lacking in discernment of where and when I should have to responsible and where it is up to the universe and when it is up to the other.

Later that evening in one of my bouts alone, (dancing of course) a stranger smiles at me and starts dancing with me. Following my feet in perfect rhythm. The synchronicity was a pleasant surprise. However fleeting, it felt comforting and inspiring to share that flow of energy with another soul. After a while we both laughed and smiled and bumped our fists in mutual acknowledgement and gratitude of the fun we just shared. Then we moved on to appreciate where we were, separately. (Sorry guys - this is not the story of how I find true love.)

4.     The universe is in perfect flow

I feel the flow of the universe in the music, in my body, and in the people she brings to me. I recognize that she fine tunes that flow by constantly purifying energies in my vicinity. She guides the right ones in and the others out. She is in constant flow.

In the end, a night full of shameless dancing with good people and good music brought up my own thoughts and feelings around relationships and partners. The next goal is to learn how to dance and still experience the same intensity of beauty and love and peace and fire and freedom that I feel when I dance alone - with another.
 
Stay tuned. Isabel learns to dance.