I danced for the first time last night at Cedars of Lebanon, a gorgeous, high-end Middle Eastern restaurant in downtown Salt Lake. If felt great to get the first performance behind me, and I’ll definitely be returning!
And this morning I finally made it back to African! It felt so good reconnecting with my community. I really feel like all of me is back, like the girl with Jax – even before I got sick – just pushed Christie out of the way. I never imagined I’d be the kind of girl to ameliorate to the point of disappearing, for a relationship.
I’ll remember to keep in mind that cooperation is different from permitting another’s will and personality to the non-existence of my own. (And I didn’t even cooperate very well! I think because disappearing is inauthentic, unconscious though it may have been, it left me fighting to feel my own self. In other words, fighting. Hm.)
I really just love my African dance community. The welcome I received there nearly brought me to tears. I feel loved. Rosie, our instructor, shouted when I walked in.
“You’re here!” she squealed, so loudly that the dancers looked up from the din of conversation, and my friends ran to me. I was embraced by these beautiful, powerful women whose ups and downs have been supported by this group, and who’ve certainly seen me through mine. I was home.
“I love it when you’re here!” Rosie said, hugging me. “You have the best energy!”
I can’t tell you how wonderful that was to hear from old friends, people who know me, after a month spent with the stabbing, echoing words of Jax’s cruel wife.
I didn’t realize how deeply she cut, or how lasting was the wound. It was, after all, absurd. Carrie doesn’t know me, and it was her energy she revealed, not mine. But to fit in among such loving people has to mean that I, too, resonate at that frequency. In any case, all I felt was luuuuv, and then we pounded that shit for an hour and a half!
Korejuga, my favorite rhythm! How timely was that?
I’m really happy right now. It feels good to write that.