Dancing Down the Moon

The Quotable Deity

"Don't blame Me, child.  You're the one who just had to have a snake tattoo."

~God

In other news, there's a short interview with me up on Gwinivere Rain's Copper Moon blog.  It's the first author-type thing I've done in months.  Enjoy!

Seed Post #9: Dance

I was in high school when I first realized I loved to dance.

Our school district required a certain number of physical education credits, but if you were in the marching band or a sport, you could get out of taking actual P.E.  I found this incredibly unfair--my choice was either join band or run laps?  Neither was at all appealing.

Luckily I discovered another option:  something called "Dance P.E."  All the girls who wanted to be on the drill team took the class, as did pretty much every other non-band, non-sports girl.  Several of my friends were taking it too, and I thought surely it had to be better than being forced to play volleyball with the boys. 

I had a blast.  Everything we did--even square dancing--came naturally and happily to me.  I learned to waltz, I learned what jazz hands are, I learned how to choreograph and choose music for performances.  For a young woman whose success had always been mental, this was earth-shaking and strange. 

I came dangerously close to trying out for drill team, too, but I couldn't overcome the basic truth that I was too fat.  The drill team at our school won awards and was famous for its high kick routines, and while I could learn choreography with remarkable speed for an awkward chubby girl, there was no way they would let me into a group that wore thigh-high skirts and did splits on the football field.  Instead of working harder and trying to get in better shape, I did what would become my pattern throughout life:  I gave up. 

I spent the next three years watching the team perform with bitter jealous longing in my heart.  The girls who made the team had taken dance lessons from childhood, and had perfected their big vacant smiles and big hairdos.  I don't think many of them really had a passion for dance; it was just something they were expected to do, as the white, upper-middle-class popular girls whose parents had dragged them to recitals and classes all their lives.  I didn't want to dance to encourage school spirit, or to show off my long legs.  I didn't care about competitions.  I wanted to dance because, even at fifteen, I knew there was something there.

Conversations with God - Part 11

January 17, 2006 - 8:03pm

The work is done in the course of one song.

I was ready for the long haul--I had three CDs lined up, the candles lit.

Tonight's ritual coordinator: Madonna. It may come as a surprise to learn that she is, in fact, a shaman.

Conversations with God - Part 10

October 9, 2005 - 10:40 pm

"Let me get this straight," I pant into the silent, incense-hazed air. "Twelve drummers, ten dancers, outdoors under a waxing Moon, and You barely even notice, but if I'm in my panties and Bewitched t-shirt bouncing around with headphones on dancing like Emmett from Queer as Folk, You're here?"

I can sense the smile even if I can't see it. "Why do you think that is?"

I consider. "You don't like patchouly?"

Conversations with God - Part 9

November 9, 2004 - 10:57 pm

The music is as loud as I dare have it at eleven on a Tuesday night, but it’s loud enough. With all the space in this new home, I still keep to the old tradition: move the coffee table aside, have as my sacred space the rug in front of the couch.

This is spontaneous--I was standing in front of my altar toning, letting my voice go wherever it needed to, letting Spirit find its way out through the vibration and to hell with things like pitch and melody; but I found I couldn’t stand still. My feet kept a rhythm that came out of nowhere, and as the song faded into the incense-heavy air, I knew I had another rite to perform.

“I’m back.”

Conversations with God - Part 8

February 9, 2004 - 9:50pm

"I feel nauseated."

"So sit down."

Conversations with God - Part 7

January 11, 2004 - 1:00pm

I forgot my water again. I half-stumble into the kitchen and rinse out my glass of Dr Pepper, the music still vibrating through me and shuddering my heartbeat. I am covered in sweat, and between that and the smears of cookie dough from the dessert I just took out of the oven for tonight, these pajamas are a lost cause.

"That was so stupid," I mutter, sinking to the floor.

Conversations with God - Part 6

October 11, 2003, - 3:30am

I flop onto my back on the couch, enjoying the lingering smell of sage and sandalwood and the echoed laughter of my friends. The music has long since finished, leaving a strange silence in its wake that isn't entirely silent. I recognize this feeling: sacred space. If I slit my eyes I can see it, like the moving reflection of water on the underside of a bridge.

There's something else, too.

I smile, eyes closed, almost laughing. "Hi."

Conversations with God - Part 5

July 12, 2003 - 10:45pm

We're watching her from opposide sides of the circle: I'm annoyed, He's amused. I catch a glimpse, a sense of Him leaning sideways against one of the dark oaks, silhouetted by the pale Moon high above. Mostly I notice the irony in His smile.

Conversations with God - Part 4

May 15, 2003 - 10:30 pm

"Put down the spoon."

I don't look up. "Why?"

"Because, as you so graciously pointed out, it's a Full Moon in Scorpio, and a Lunar Eclipse. Are you really planning to sit this one out?"

I swallow a spoonful of orange sherbet. "I can't dance."

"Why not?"