Getting Back Up, XI: Epilogue, Where the Path Is Found Again

That feeling I got when I first saw Lindy Hop? I got another feeling just like it a few weeks ago, meditating. I hadn’t started actually dancing at the African dance class; I’d just watched the dancing two days before. In my meditation, I saw the studio where class was held. I stood at the door in terror. A raven flew in. The Morrigan was at my left shoulder. A taller version of myself, indistinct, seemingly molded out of light stood behind my right shoulder. An enormous bear trundled into the center of the room and stood up to his full height. He roared a bellow at every corner of the room. It was like light driving away shadow. But what he drove from the room was fear. Then a foot was planted in the small of my back and I was kicked into the room onto my face. I got up and the Morrigan was over me. Her face was contorted and her eyes were burning with ardor. She seized me by the shoulders and shook me stupid. She yanked me so I was an inch from her face and bellowed at me as loud as I’ve ever heard anyone scream, “Dance! Dance, damn you! DANCE!!”

I got tired of being bitter. I learned how keep myself from sliding back down that hole. I learned to trust fate’s rough guiding hand and consigned myself to the swift, ungentle current of life sweeping past me. And 15 years later, I got shown what to do again. I have no idea how long that will last. But I intend to dive into it and strive in that joy and hardship for as long as this new direction works for me. And when it no longer does, the next time life knocks me on my face, or pulls this or any other great joy out from under me, I intend to say thank you with every fiber of my being.

Thank you. And bring it.