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Between Everything and Nothing

It’s a fine line between everything and nothing, and I am only at the beginning of understanding this.

I fall off the line daily — bumbling along, until I climb back up and try again.

For me, everything is:

  • Bodies moving across the earth while carving into air.
  • Bodies expanding and contracting with other bodies that are also moving across earth, carving into air.
  • Breath:  my own and others’.

That’s the balance I’m trying to find on the little line that I am forever walking.

When bodies and breath align, all is possible in this great expanse of space and time.

And nothing is….

Well, nothing is that place I’ve been so many times before.

That place where my body is dancing, sure, but where earth and air go unnoticed.

The other bodies are seen but not sensed, and the breath is not given the attention it deserves.

That line!

That line!

I am forever falling off of that line!

In my doubt and my comparison to the dancing of others, I fall off of the line into a nothing place over and over until I find my balance again and then there, a few feet ahead, is everything —  pulling me into a dance that is my body and my breath.

Pulling me into a dance that is earth and air and other bodies, breathing.

I was at a wedding this past weekend and I tried to explain the line to those seated around me at the chicken dinner.

Polite nods from all, and then the conversation quickly turned to #45 and the state of the world, as it is apt to do these days.

The next day we had brunch at a friend of the family.   The friend took us into her garden and explained to the bunch of us that though her garden was filled with stinging nettles, there was no need to worry:

“Talk to them,” She said, “Like this: Good morning Mrs. Nettle!  Please don’t sting me, for I am a friend.”  She paused, listened and nodded her head. She stepped into the patch of stinging nettles, bare limbed and exposed, brushing up against the green plants that sting and bite.

She came back out a little while later, unscathed and humming.

The rest of us exchanged glances, not daring to try.

Later on, during bagels and lox, I told her about the line.

She said.  “Ooooh, will you come into my garden and show my your dance?”

“Good Morning Mrs. Nettle!”  I yelled to the plants.  “Please don’t sting me while I walk this line.”

I stepped into the patch of green and danced a dance that is everything and nothing among nettles that sting.

I walked away feeling fine.

Your dance mission for the week is to walk your own line.

Over and over again.

When you fall, climb back up and try again.

Remember:  Breath, body, earth & air = Dancing.

Try dancing to this song.

Let me know how it goes.

Know too that I am falling and climbing, and falling again.

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