It took a long time for the full moon to fall from the heights of the sky during the night – from 3:00 a.m. until dawn finally exposed a gray penciled-in version of the lake’s opposite shoreline. During the dark hours I lay in bed watching the moon trail reflect on a backdrop of the black water, and was mysteriously but magnetically inspired to walk back in time.
The replay hadn’t been a premeditated idea. I simply found myself needing to visit my earliest creative beginnings, speak them out loud, and narrate their progress right up to the present. A time-consuming endeavor? I suppose. But remember - I had all night.
In the midst of today’s high noon exposure (symbolized by the brash, silvery light of an entire sun-spangled lake, so different from the moon trail), my take-away from last night is clear. There’s been a “dance” in my heart all along seeking to find expression – sometimes through yearnings and longings, and less often through actual overt participation. In some seasons this “dance” was completely ignored. In others music swelled, or waves lapped against the seawall, or the sound of human voice invited me to express something from deep inside that had to come out – but the “dance” was often only partially realized. Perhaps it was disabled in mid-stride by bulky props or technically-minded stage directors. Perhaps a limp – emotional or circumstantial – limited my steps.
In recent years I’ve begun to realize a measure of consistent creative expression, mostly through writing. I’ve always longed to dance, and still do. But this I know. I have been given the ability and desire to write, and I continue to discover new assignments. As long as passion continues to translate the inner dance on paper, I will relish opportunities to dance with words.
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