"Think of the magic of that foot, comparatively small, upon which your whole weight rests. It's a miracle, and the dance...is a celebration of that miracle."
It is quite normal for me to find myself in our kitchen singing along to music streaming from a local station.
I sing loudly and enjoy the feeling of the words bursting from within. They flow out and around me, forcing a smile, making me laugh or commanding a tear. My voice is not one you might hear on the radio or even on the stage. The melodies have me spinning in place, sometimes flinging cake batter or dropping a spoon in the process. Peanut, my precious dog who is always under foot, will stand on his back legs and "dance" around me. Marcus will more than often wander in, sing along and sweep me into a quick step or a slow turn. Our bodies do not move with the precision of a ballerina or the quickness of a contemporary dancer. Yet we dance often in our home, we sing more than most people would probably like, we create silly songs to familiar beats and we laugh - loudly.
Those words that come from the radio, those painstaking lyrics flying so simply with that beautiful melody are someone's dream. They are a piece of someone's vision. I dance in my kitchen surrounded by magic when the radio plays. I am celebrating a miracle with every awkward spin or silly dip.
Normally while whatever I was cooking is finishing up I wander into the living room and sit on the couch or a favorite chair and read a magazine or book. My mind imagines the characters or family faces, it enjoys the newest adventure or revisiting the old one. I might wander to my own work and continue the painstaking process of revision or creation. Again, I am seeing a dream. I am surrounded by magic when those pages turn and the images burn into my mind. I am celebrating a miracle with every sentence...with every phrase.
At night I often dream of the stories I read or write, of the memories a song reminds me of or the activities of the day. These type of things stay with me.
Take a few tidbits about Martha Washington, she not only followed her husband into battle to aid the troops and support the man she loved; she stepped into a miracle. She surrounded herself with the magic of perseverance and faith. Those men were painstakingly fighting for freedom, for a dream of a nation. Battle is brutal, friends are lost, friends are made, enemies are destroyed and families are missed. The smallest things in life are thought of as comfort. She is said to have led the men many nights in song or story, where each sitting together must share. Men said that those nights of words and melodies made a difference...yes words and melodies - their magic is like no other.
Think of the magic of the pen, the finger, the pencil...also comparatively small, upon which your dreams rest, the weight of that is immeasurable. It is also a miracle, and the words that you share? They are a celebration of that miracle...who knows where they will pop up: a kitchen, a living room, a battlefield....what a way to share a dream...
Happy Happy Tuesday!
(It's a Monday Memo, but we all celebrated another type of Dream yesterday ;o) )