veils

there are a couple poems swirling around in my noodle. one about belly dancing. for a great many reasons, none of which i'll mention if you don't know, i am not enjoying this dance with the, um, fervor of my early days. the lustre has gone out of it for me. but i persevere, searching for the meaning in it for myself.

i'm so willing to do things for others. to be about pleasing. (though it may not seem that way from the outside, if you are in my heart and inner circle, i'm all about pleasing. it is my achilles' heel, if you will).

belly dancing is all about sexy, sensual, fertility, community. for a great many reasons, i feel all of those somehow disjointed in my life and i'm not exactly sure how to do this dance with all the fervor i once had because it feels like i'm faking it (which of course i am).

one of the great tricks of cults is to capture actions or emotions. if you get one the other will follow. so i trick myself into health by acting healthy. then, i'm certain health will follow, or that my emotions will seek healthy if i'm actively acting healthy. this is my hope.

there are so many destructive perils, there always has been, but i'm not focusing on those. but i find, like the dead muskrat we passed today, of whom my daughter said,

he met fate on the road

i don't want to meet fate on the road sampling the things that tempt me. i want my pasture to be a safe place, a haven, if you will. not a roadside death defying buffet. but i do enjoy seeing those muskrats, perky little fellows. until they wander too close to the road, that is.

we went to see the swans today. the gentle curve of their elegant necks, an auburn cap on their white head, so slight it is unnoticable to the naked eye. we broke out the binoculars and pulled off the road to ooh and ahh at the glorious couple who seem to have a giant nest and a few assorted eggs here and there (we're not sure what that is about).

maybe beautiful creatures can also be distracted mothers. i'd like to think that is the way it is sometimes. it would assuage my guilt (though i must confess the distracted don't feel guilt, they are too distracted).

it is well. we drape our veils over us tonight for belly dancing. beginning on the floor. the horrors of floorwork i'll spare you. let's just say, i better wear more than a bikini top tonight.

what do you expect flipping and spinning around like that?

anyway, perhaps my poem will come, perhaps it won't. but i'll keep myself open to it. it is just beyond me, i can see it just beyond my grasp. like that bottle at the grocery too high on a shelf for me to reach, when i try, only pushing it farther away. i must wait the tall helpful stranger or get creative.

a tall helpful stranger doesn't sound like a bad idea to me.

peace.