The Dance Awaits the Dancers
Updated: Dec 4, 2019
The taste of morning coffee on her lips, the morning sun warming her skin.
My senses delight in the sunlight, sparkling her eyes, enhancing her vibrant beauty.
The beauty of my life partner, open to me, given to me as a gift.
I draw my finger along her cheek and feel her respond with the slightest shiver, a quiet sigh.
An open, available women is a treasure beyond any measure.
I look into her eyes and see into her soul, bare, vulnerable, safe and secure.
Her hand reaches up and pulls me down into a warm, soft kiss, her lips parting to let me in.
I close my eyes, and for a moment I sense the rubble and the dust in the air from the ruins of the great walls that once stood here.
Walls built by the generations. Battlements created to defend those most tender places. Defenses created against anger, against fear, against unreasoning hatred for all the beautiful things that make her so precious, so pure, so beautiful, so powerful.
The generations that thought they could steal the power for themselves…and failed.
The generations that had to discover, to their horror, that what they took from others, they took from themselves 10-fold.
I know this rubble, this dust, the feeling of ancient, crumbling enmity, powerless now in the Costa Rican sun and coffee and willing flesh. I know this because I have this same rubble inside me, this same dust.
The ancient ruins bring back distant memories of the pain and loneliness those walls created and protected.
They bring back distant memories of the breaching of those walls, powerful, excruciating, ecstatic liberation.
This all reminds me how blessed I am to be sharing a life without walls, to be in the arms of a woman unarmored, to know her passion unrestrained, and to feel her free acceptance of my passion.
To be shameless with a woman who knows no shame.
Rolling over to my side I whisper to her of my dreams, my fears, my desires, and bask in her smile, her acceptance, her excitement to know me fully.
Gently kissing my eyes, she pulls me to her again, and lets me delight in her body - fingers, tongue and gaze, accepting my adoration as her due. Lightly stroking her ear with my finger, I tell her that I love her. We hold each other, touching and talking and breathing, without agenda, menu or script. The morning will go where it goes, as it always does, and the only result will be love.
Forget every single other thing you’ve been told about how to heal the world. We hold peace and unity in our very fingertips, and it is our deepest desire to share that with each other. Love, endlessly abundant, universally desired, is made out to be scarce. We huddle behind our walls, alone in a sea of people. We defend ourselves to the death against every chance to be vulnerable, loved, seen, felt and heard. We hide in our caves of shame, nursing our guilt, and terrified of blame, convinced that life is pain…death, blessed relief.
We were made for better. We were made for shuddering, kundalini nights and tender morning cuddles. We were made to touch hearts and to bare our souls. We were made to touch and be touched, on all levels. We were designed for the playful connection, God and Goddess, and we know this, because we feel the emptiness and misery when we don’t have just that.
We are joy, we are passion, and we have forgotten this, as a species. We’ve forgotten our purpose as humans. We have sold out our most basic function for the foolish price of security, power and strength, and we have lost it all.
The choice is simple, the execution is not. Breach your walls, tear off your masks, discard broken belief systems, and come back to your true self. The task is great, but the rewards are endless.
The dance awaits the dancers.
Are you ready?
Are you ready?