There is always a burden, of course–a sadder or heavier side to all the ecstatic dancing–a wound to the healer, a spider bite to the heel. Something, in us or in the universe, requires balance. Dancing was never an escape from the rest of life, although it could be a relief from it; I always went more deeply into anything that was troubling me. And the entire existence of myself and this world troubled me! It never even occurred to me to try to shut it out. I often had a lot to process while I danced, most of it altogether mundane. The privileged insights came after the toilsome business of life.

What that means is not vague in practice; I am trying to describe some kind of neurological processing disorder, and how I dealt with it. Again I refer to an important dream, a very simple one in which a kindly but authoritative man told me I was ‘eidetic.’ He showed me myself dancing as a child and explained that, instead of seeing the world around me like a film played at the proper speed and showing a smooth continuous scene, I see it as ‘a series of fractured images.’ I soon realized it was true. When I danced, I could re-view the day’s scenes at the correct film speed and only then make sense of them. Before that, I would appear to be processing normally, and most of the time it didn’t matter too much. When I tried to play or even watch team sports, however, the trouble appeared. I could not track multiple moving objects on a field and make sense of what they were doing. I knew instinctively that I could not drive a car safely but, being American, I had little choice but to try. My instincts were correct. After a few white-knuckle years, I let my driver’s license expire. Not driving pretty much ruined any potential I had for an active, useful life, but it drove me deeper into solitude and seclusion so that my work benefitted.

Apart from not driving, I also have to avoid any situation where I am expected to think on my feet and make quick decisions. I’m sensitive and reactive enough that every moment is a continual flood of physical and other sensations. I can’t sort it out and make sense of it in real time. My first response is very different from a considered one–usually because in the moment I am a bit tense and sensory-defensive, and need to get past that to the substance of what has actually happened and what it requires of me. Then I can be both more far-sighted and more empathic, and act accordingly. Most people need reflective time sometimes, of course, but–I can’t drive! No one has ever yet been able to make me understand a football play! It’s not a subjective personal issue. I could probably shift it if it were.

The dancing that allowed this ‘eidetic’ person to make sense of the here and now also allowed entry into any place that trance could sense and locate. It was how I recognized my peers from the Imaginal, and was able to enter their songs as if they were actual multi-dimensional spaces. More Net of Indra is shooting forth everywhere as I write this! That was what came through so clearly as I spun and raced. After the little questions found answers and the little hurts were soothed–after the chores were done….

All the years I danced and read but did not compose a word I was creating a vast repository of songs for the future. I still draw on it now at night when I let lines run through my head. I don’t feel any more of them need to be written down. All the while I have been on this poetic path, I have also followed non-dual teachings. An awareness of the Dharma runs through the work, a knowing that even the Lovers are samsaric at last. I sense it is not yet time for the songs that will come after the Lovers, but something will succeed them.

Until then, I am a friend to the Flower Fairies, and making and releasing their likenesses. I’ll tell you all about that before long….