There are those who enjoy the drama. They would say that they don’t. They would tell you that the fury and the spinning and the ranting is fully justified in every moment. Yet, they cannot be appeased. As one “crisis” is resolved, another arises to take its place as the lead in the drama. I won’t be a part of this play any more. It exhausts my body, my mind, and my soul. Instead of always finding the crisis, I want to always find the dance.
Dance when you’re broken open.
Dance when you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance when you’re perfectly free.
Struck, the dancer hears a tambourine inside her,
like a wave that crests into foam at the very top,
Begins.
Maybe you don’t hear that tambourine,
or the tree leaves clapping time.
Close the ears on your head,
that listen mostly to lies and cynical jokes.
There are other things to see, and hear.
Music. Dance.
A brilliant city inside your soul!
–Rumi
