The bright day turned suddenly, with total abandon, handing her reins over to the sky; moving from bright to dark in just a few moments. As rain crashed against windows, lights flickered then went off, thunder rolled, and temperatures plummeted 20°. Tumultuous, screaming nature dances without restraint, reminding me of a human displaying every emotion in one day: joy to anger to fear to rage to hysteria to defeat to acceptance.

Like nature, we dance—in the light, in the dark, and in awe, through pain, with tenderness, with hearts pounding and with hopefulness. And, usually, we dance with shadows.

Shadow Dancing

We dance in the light with our eyes wide open. Sometimes the crescendo hits notes that move us to tears—meaningful, poignant and filled with emotion. The light casts shadows as we swirl around and around until we’re dizzy, or giddy, or worn out from the pure joy of life, as “Cristofori’s Dream” draws us across the floor.

We dance in the dark, with shadows cast from doubt, while “Sweet Escape” plays in the background. We recall moments we wish we would have held onto tighter—flashes of time that were pregnant with possibility and fear—where the unknown mingled with the absolute.

We dance through the pain—the pain of a life soon to be extinguished, the pain of what we let slip through our fingers, the pain of the hurts caused at our hands. We dance to the rhythm of “Chains/Strings” with the shadows that haunt us still.

We dance in awe as “In Reverence” brings us to the “should” of our being. Immersed in the sacredness of us, we look, with absolute amazement, at who we are and how we’re here—part body, part mind, part spirit. We “see” the separate and connected, aware of the shadows dancing in harmony with us.

We dance with tenderness through “Canon in D Major” inviting the notes into our core, embracing them like a long-lost friend, seeing the shadows—acknowledging and honoring them saying, “I see you, you matter, you are strong, you are valuable”.

We dance with hearts pounding—afraid of the shadows of the “torrential rains” of our lives while “Through the Dark” keeps the tempo. We fight the urge to give into the fear, even though it prods us—challenging us to take up its cause, to throw contentment away, to abandon our faith in a future of joy.

We dance with hopefulness, as “Butterflies”plays, light on our feet—carefree, unbridled—until we stop and see the shadows behind us saying, “no, no, no”. So, we close our eyes to block them out: the shadows of the past that haunt us, the shadows of the future that worries us, the shadows of the “left unsaid” that sadden us.
Then, in that space, we find ourselves.

All these dances happen in the shadows of our lives.
All these emotions are intercepted by a heart that yearns to expand, but often contracts because it resides inside a human body, with a mind not always able, or willing, to step beyond the shadows, into the life God intended for each of us.
No matter where we are, or how we look, or who we know, or how we came to this dance, it belongs to us.
Our spirit will keep time with each note and create harmony—indescribable in its synchronicity—as it ebbs and flows seamlessly.

Then, without the shadow as our partner, as the notes to “Hallelujah” run through our veins, we are again able to dance—just dance. We are free, unencumbered, gliding and praising, and singing in a voice so loud that it blends in with the vibration of the earth, as all creation rejoices in us. We again hear our dreams, we hold them close and we talk to them. We touch the hem of life unencumbered by the lost child of the past.

We see the world shadowless, without fear or hatred or prejudice or anger or pain.
We can again hear our spirit, and we are free.

©peace full home™/intentional living

David Lanz “Cristofori’s Dream” 1991
Paul Cardall “Sweet Escape” 2003
The Late Cord “Chains/Strings” 2006
David Tolk “In Reverence” 2006
Johann Pachelbel “Canon in D Major” 1705
Helen Jane Long “Through the Dark” 2007
Ryan Stewart “Butterflies” 2010
Leonard Cohen “Hallelujah” 1984

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