Movement

In the existence of life there is movement. Movement can be created in moments of pure stillness. The movement of breath in one's body. The movement of the eye as it focuses on the face of the familiar. Blood moving through the veins, willingly, involuntarily.

I am constantly moving. My body is in constant motion. Today, as in the recent present, movement brings on an aching in my body. I crave the pedestrian movements that come from the day to day while I writhe in the agony of it. Nimble fingers gone. Fluidity of walking now replaced by short staccato fragments of movement.

How I took it for granted.

The sheer enjoyment of moving through the day without thought. Now every small detail. Every little lift, turn, gesture and blink comes with a consequence. With a price of pain.

I long for the days when movement was free. Movement was pouring out from within my center that staggered even my mind. I remember the days long gone of creativity. When my body would release from its depths a movement filled with meaning and direction. The turning and the leaping the balancing and the twirling. Those days when my body's simplest of gestures were profound speeches set to music.

Debussy...

The music that tells much of what has happend. Clair de Lune. The slowness and musical water that it starts as. Slowly moving its musical notes through my mind. Moving ever so gently, without a thought. That's how it was...so long ago.

Then climbing...energy...effort....extremities imitating the pulsating sway of the musical change. The effort my body now takes to move. Every moment made thoughtfully and carefully. Gone are the days of springing up, jumping down, and turning over with ease and carelessness. Replaced by willing and purposed movement. "Have too" movements. "Want to" gone for good.

But there is hope again. Hope as the music then slows back to its crawl. To its slow and beautiful change. Weaving in and out, up and down, filling my heart and mind with a memory of what was.

Perhaps my body will never move or dance the way it used to. Perhaps I will never see the lights of the stage in my eyes again and hear the applause or feel the emotion of the movements. I am fully willing to accept this fate.

All I ask for now....is a moment...a movement...

Without pain...without thought.

Blissful, serene, steady, graceful. Oh, the joy of pure movement.

Return to me dear friend.

And dance with me again.