With lights turned low, music turned high, they danced, each of them carried by a current of sound. She closed her eyes and released any resistance, letting arms, spine, hips, and legs be owned by God's breath. Nothing else was happening.
Suddenly his voice entered the current, and instead of just floating past and letting it be, she stopped in an eddy of thought. "How dare he interrupt this flow?"
Turning to him, she admitted, "I don't like my thoughts when you talk." That honest moment dispelled clouds of judgment. The sky broke open in laughter.
***
With the sun hanging low, silence turned high, they walked the streets, each of them pulled by dogs with leashes of purple or green. She released any resistance, letting arms, spine, hips, and legs be owned by God's breath. Nothing else was happening.
Suddenly the sound of goose debates entered the scene, getting louder and louder. She stopped to watch, her head falling back to view feathered underbellies moving through the blue sky above.
Turning to him, she offered, "Birds, like thoughts, move through spaciousness, never hanging around, just here for a moment. I'm so very grateful for that for if it weren't so, we would all be hidden in layers of worn-out thoughts and the shit of goose and gander.
Carol Barrow
February, 2017
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