Dancing with Dorsal

There’s a kind of feeling when it happens.

Heavy and still.

Like the way it feels when snow blankets the world.

Muffled, distant, quiet.

You know there should be more.

Yet somehow its unreachable.

You lose your mind, in a way you don’t mind.

How can it be a comfort when you no longer fully inhabit yourself?

It kidnaps you from this moment and you don’t arrive anywhere else.

In limbo.

Waiting without knowing you’re waiting.

Suspended, an unreachable anchor.

Away and gone.

Over time, somehow and suddenly, you’re right in the centre of it.

You begin to watch it happen.

You start to notice it seep in,

Reminiscent of how the colder days frost up the old window in your kitchen.

On those frigid days it blocks your view to the outdoors.

Inhibiting your ability to engage with the world.

But with support and over time you begin to learn.

You begin to access the ability to gently defrost that window.

The way sun rays peaking through the space between clouds might warm your skin.

With the smallest intention and the gentlest movement,

That blanket of snow begins to melt.

Winter turns to early spring.

And spring to summer.

Suddenly the world is not so distant anymore.

There’s connection.

You hear the warmth in a tone of voice.

You see the welcoming in a glance that makes eye contact.

You feel your heart beating,

and the breath deepen.

Your limbs can rest in a way that feels like choice.

They can also move in a way that feels like ease.

And your mind?

No longer blank, but also not frought.

You can see the beauty in it all.

Yes, there’s pain and grief too.

But it makes you feel alive and connected to it all.

And that’s what matters.

Protection from pain may have kept you comfortable,

but it has also stolen life from you.

And no you didn’t consciously choose that.

Its the briliance of our survival strategies, not a personality defect.

And so yes there is grief in that,

But can there also be wonder and gratitude.

Can there also be trust in your path and timing.

It’s never too late.

You’re not behind.

And you’re not broken.

Compassion.

In the thaw and the connection,

To yourself, to others and the world.

May you begin to dance with dorsal too.