While cleaning out papers, a process that seems endless as I accrue more each day, I found the poem that follows.
The morn of New Year's eve brought a storm that would leave 6-8 inches and bring high winds later in the day. I had spent a great deal of the so-called winter 'vacation', leading up to the turn of the year, sick, reflecting on my life, and facing the 'woods of my own nature'. The snow was accumulating fast. Still not feeling well, I took the day off and continued to rest, reflect, sort, clean, and reorganize my life.
Anyway,I found this poem among information and coursework on massage. (another body of knowledge I had developed and then suspended my work in)
The Dance
When the snow falls the flakes
spin upon the long axis
that concerns them most intimately
two and two to make a dance
the mind dances with itself,
taking you by the hand,
your lover follows
there are always two,
your self and the other,
the point of your show setting the pace,
if you break away and run
the dance is over
Breathlessly you will take
another partner
better or worse who will keep
at your side, at your stops
whirls and glides until he too
leaves off
on his way down as if
there were another direction
gayer, more carefree
spinning face to face but always down
with each other secure
only in each other's arms
But only the dance is sure!
make it your own.
Who can tell
what is to come of it?
in the woods of your
own nature whatever
twig interposes, and bare twigs
have an actuality of their own
this flurry of the storm
that holds us,
plays with us and discards us
dancing, dancing as may be credible.
William Carlos Williams
The images and words that stand out to me:
Dancing two and two
Mind dancing with itself
There are always two?
My mind is often dancing by itself, and then I feel there is one-me, and everyone else - out there.
Secure only in each other's arms
Only the dance is sure
Breathlessly you will take
another partner better or worse who will keep
at your side, at your stops
When dancing, especially tango, I can focus on the moment with intent. I can feel sure, immediate. Usually with any physical activity that engages the mind, and heart as well, there is more clarity, immediacy,and satisfaction. Sharing those moments with a partner is blissful, comforting and feels meaningful. Touching, breathing, moving together - there is the joy. And the awareness in the still points, 'the stops', of these shared pleasures, improvisational movement games, is exquisite.
When the mind is only dancing with itself there can be a split - confusion and loneliness seep in.
Dancing as may be credible
What does this mean?
Comments?
While cleaning out papers, a process that seems endless as I accrue more each day, I found the poem that follows. 
