Hope

She's slithering through the tiniest of spaces, as softly and discreetly as possible, leaving no footprint behind until she finds herself in the middle of it all, being enticed and called on by so many. Innocently, she keeps gliding along, as a trail of pleasant fragrance lingers behind her, inviting all sort of creatures to feast on its aroma. Some of these creatures want to know the source behind the nourishment. And so the dance is on: the movement, the stillness, the anticipation, and the undulation. She may give in, she may jump in. She may retreat, she may stand still. And through it all, her presence remains, exuding that intangible something that grabs, inverts, shakes, and changes the other party to the core. And as for her, she simply continues moving forward and looking forward to the day when she, too, is grabbed, inverted, shaken, and changed.

She is slithering through the tiniest of spaces, as softly and discreetly as possible, leaving a radiant footprint behind that she is steadily beginning to recognize.

Digging

What am I trying to say? Words must come.. Words.. You know, a dance is made up of dance vocabulary known as steps and patterns, just as a book is made up of words formulated by letters. Hell, music is the same. We communicate in so many ways, and perhaps more profoundly and clearly without language. After all, language is the newest development if looking at the evolutionary model.  And the reason for communication? Well, the first answer that comes to mind is connection. We have a need to connect (and we also want to survive. I doubt animals can carry on living completely independently. They seem to travel in packs, herds, flocks, and schools, just to name a few). Trying to deduce (or maybe induce?) this: if communication does occur on so many levels not understood by the logical mind, can connection also appear in a way that's beyond the rational? I, obviously, think so, or I would not be writing this particular piece. And, this, I find to be intriguing. I mean, we go about our lives, doing all the right things, crossing the t's and dotting the i's, doing good deeds, and finding ourselves to be slightly (or slightly more than slightly) deadened. The life within is no longer in tune with the life around. We follow the rules, mental rules, limiting rules. We feel stifled, pushed out to the boundaries of our comfortable familiarity. We don't know what to think or how to behave. Perhaps we feel threatened, perhaps excited, and at the same time, we don't understand our experience. This connection beyond the first layer of reason begs to be explored and exposed. The deeper, richer slice of life wants to expand and brighten the world within us. My bias is that this is where true beauty resides, and I want to know its strata.

The Fourth in F-Series

When full, there is no end to her giving. It's as if she opens up completely to the world and longs to embrace all of its creatures, consoling them, uplifting them, energizing them, being a loving presence for them. She is lighter than a feather. She can't hold back the joyful sound of her voice. She can't be held down by the darkness of the night and of the world. Walking is effortless. The question of taking doesn't arise, only finding more beings to embrace and hold, for space in her is unlimited. Vastness arises, for she is small. Her beauty sparkles. The warmth of her power grows. In this moment, she exists as she really is. In this moment, she is free.

Why Not?

Joy precedes giving... This is profound. At least to me. Joy is the root, all else is its branches. The chasing game is now on, the scavenger hunt. The ceaseless hunt. Looking under every leaf and grain of sand, black or otherwise, the dirty hand and the hungry eye are on a mission. The pursuit of happiness is the name. Sometimes, a light seems to shine from down under, enticing the senses and igniting the imagination, while setting the feet to a happy dance. But this is only a spark, a short-lived one at that, and the disappointment is great, and so the hunt resumes. 

Joy is the language of the universe...This could be true. Why not?! When the chasing game is on break, when the hunting ceases, when the leaf and the grain of sand are left to be, when the dirty hand rests and the hungry eye closes, the language of nature fills the sphere all around. The radiant glow seems to blind, enticing the senses and igniting the imagination, while setting the feet to a happy dance. This is not just a vacationing spark ready to find the nearest exit out. This could just be the source of joy itself. The joy that is the basis of the piece of creation writing down these letters. The joy that is the basis of the piece of life reading these letters. The joy that is the root, and everything else....everything else is its magnificent branches.

The Third in F-Series

Oh, the many ways she twists and turns. The many ways she appears and re-appears. The many dresses she wears, and the faces she tries on. It is rather entertaining to be a witness to the creativity, the dedication, the determination, and the energy she puts forth. Her walk will be that of a feather floating in the wind. Her posture and poise will pose like a model sitting for a painter. Her gestures will be as purposeful as the hands of a sculptor. Her thought process entertains every possibility of grasping the amorphous. She wants to catch that which escapes. Everything about her demeanor will demand that which an inaudible scream wishes to shout out. And just as the fruit of her labor springs forth and he notices her, she giggles, shrugs her delicate shoulders, and walks away, leaving him standing in the dark field of confusion. Oh, yes, he is at the mercy of the feminine.