More or Less Dancing

It's funny you know . . . This business of dancing. I don't know the words and I don't know the song. Worse yet, I don't even know the steps. I guess that is what makes it no business at all--there is no purpose, no destination, and no know-how. I guess that is what makes it a game--a game to be played without rationale, without recourse, without worry.

But, it's hard not to worry, isn't it? I remember when we danced so long ago--across an ocean or two--in a world of transition, tremor, and excruciating temporality. It has been some time now. But I know I worried then too. I want to play, but I want to play right. You know?

So, that leaves the questions: Can you dance and worry at the same time? Probably not. How does one play--that is, enter the dance--without worry? How does one suspend their past--their-self--the scars from past dances--long enough to lose their-self in the dance with an-other?

I pray for the strength to be weak that way. I pray for the miracle of suspension and the triumph of desire over the still lingering, still residual "why". But, most of all, I pray that someday I'll dance and sing a song without knowing the words. I pray that I'll play in a world unworldly, in a way exquisitely and all too (in)appropriate.