Friday, September 27, 2013

Dreams NEVER Die Even When You Deprive Them of Oxygen

This picture is about 5 years old.

Right when I started to dance again (and my feet are so different now...weird).

As a way to commit to my path, I ordered my first pair of capezios since I was about 20. I never used them (bare feet are the BEST). They were a sign, a symbol, a talisman of commitment and dedication.

In my mid 20s, as I've said a thousand times, Depression finally got the best of me and it ate dance. The one thing that could have saved me.

Of course, this was a longer process than just one moment. It took time to serve dance up to the Depression monster. I spent many years preparing it.

Recently, though, that depression monster has been stepping up his game.

I will turn 45 this November and I think it has a lot to do with that...marker.

Over the last few months, I have been feeling some negativity, some blackness creeping around and into my heart.

It's been a whisper that I have just tried to ignore.

But you cannot ignore these shadows. They just grow in size and opaqueness and power.

The whispers I've been ignoring go like this: "WHO the hell are you to think you could possibly do or be any more than you already are with dance? You should just be happy with what you've got! You're TOO OLD. It's TOO LATE. Giving up that dream is just going to make you feel at peace because you can stop being so damn delusional! Giving up that dream is natural at your age! No one would blame you! It's time to grow up!"

You get the (ugly) idea.

Mostly I would push it out of my mind (kinda) and tell it, "I'll think this through later...I know you're right...but not yet...I can't do it yet..."

Screw that shit.

What the!?

I HAVE BEEN SAVED! ((yell that in a southern accent))

A couple of super awesome people just this week asked some questions in two separate secret forums that were just the questions I needed in order to see what the hell was going on.

They were just the questions I need to PARALYZE me with FEAR.

Sometimes this is a good thing. It makes things really obvious.  No more ignoring it or repressing it when you feel that kind of fear.

And there was my dream.

Sad, little, oxygen deprived, limping dream.

Not well but ALIVE.

And the second I shone some attention and light upon her, she started to stand up straight, get some color in her cheeks, and SING.

Her song is about big and beautiful things. These are also scary but in the way that big and beautiful things can be because they ask for our BEST and our MOST.

I will be 45 this November and it does NOT matter.

This dream will not release me because I was sent here with it tucked into my heart. Written on my heart, really.

There's no eraser strong enough.

So this is a warning, world: HERE. WE. GO.