What kind of dance will it be?

I wrote this poem as I prepared to have my hair cut and shaved in, when was it?, October?  Oddly, after all was said and done at that point, this poem did not resonate with me.  Getting my haircut and shaved happened to be quite a peaceful and even fun experience.  My friend Karen did the cutting outside with mountain views all around us and the shaving inside while we listened to beautiful music.  She even served me healthy snacks!  

But I have been thinking of this poem more recently.  As I enter back into health (did I ever leave "health?"  Another blog altogether), not having hair feels more troublesome than when I first had it cut.  My reflection in the mirror does not reflect with how I feel inside.  Goodness me, am I learning patience.  

Now I know that there is no answer to the question posed in the title; that the dance will be one thing one day, and another entirely the next.  The idea is: keep moving.  Move through the pain and the heartache; through the ease and the grace - the fierce and the gentle.  And dance when you can.  

What kind of dance will it be?

This morning

the leaves

fell from

the trees

with soft

grace; a

slow dance

with the

gentle rain

and mindful

wind and

I thought,

"may my hair fall from my head like the leaves are falling: with ease and grace."

This afternoon

the leaves

fall with

a fierceness;

a primal

dance with

the sideways

rain and

the forceful

wind and

I think,

"well, perhaps it will be more like that."

Ryan McLean Tobin

What grace.  I have become an aunt three times over in the past nine months.  The most recent birth happened about three weeks ago.  It was an arduous birth to say they least, but Kristy and Keith's strength and patience helped bring this new light into the world.

At the same time that Ryan emerged into the world, I happened to be at Kripalu having a kind of "re-birth" of my own.  I was in a class called Journey Dance and the Kripalu drummers where so on!  I stayed on the edges at the beginning of the class; like a high schooler at her fist dance.  But the music (and the amazing teacher, Toni) drew me in and there was no turning back.  When I found out the time of Ryan's birth (which was the same time that I was in this class), this poem was born from my top bunk at Kripalu.  

A Poem for Ryan McLean Tobin

Like the ancient

Beat of a 

Drum, you came

Into the world.

A gift for

Us all, you 

Brought with you

Pure innocence and 

Goodness that helps

Remind us of

The tenderness in

Each of our hearts.

And your birth

On this 25th

Day of March 

Guides us to,

In our core,

Remember our own

Precious birth and 

The sacredness of

Our presence here 

on this beating 

heart called home.