February 25, 2013 Leave a comment

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Corn. Singer. Dancer. Nurse. Lover of music. Pursuing God (trying…). Secluded. Pianist. Wannabe gypsy. Silly.

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Magical unicorn dance connection

October 18, 2016 2 Comments

Convinced I’d got all I could out of my hometown salsa scene, finally confident enough after 5 years of salsa dancing (!), I branched out to an interstate Latin Festival. Having bought early bird tickets before my health crash last year, the festival was a long way away, but every couple of months leading up to it I would be yet again suprised just how slow my recovery was and I realised that by the time the festival came along, I would not be better, I’d still be recovering or would be considered permanently fatigued so would have to be careful.

During the months before illness hit, waiting for my first ‘real’ social dancing, hope and expectation builds that *this* will take my dancing to the next level, *this* is the answer to my stagnant phase, lack of progress, *this* will fulfil my never-ending frustration at the lack of scene back home.

Here I am, midway through the festival…and all I want is to go back home.

I got what I came for – a challenge, inspiration, different leads, different moves.
And I was disappointed.

I was still looking for something more, I wasn’t sure what. But I felt these people wanted something different – to look good doing impressive moves, few of them really looked *at* me, let alone held me, I felt lost with all the one-hand-leading and being thrown around by complicated patterns.
I say to my well seasoned salsa friend, “the leads here just push and push even when I can’t follow all the moves they carry on pushing and I wonder can’t they see I’m missing leads why not do something easier?” She replies that they are not dancing to my level. Why not?! We might have a good dance and not a frustratingly interrupted one!

I knew that feeling lousy was perhaps shaping my experience for the worse so I try to turn it around and remind myself of my goals, what I came here to achieve.

Grounded. I can take up this space. I am allowed! Just dance! Feel the music and don’t question, stop second guessing myself! Open to my partner, no matter who, no judgement on them. Be fully present in every cell of my body.

Cute boy approaches.

“Oh man! Here we go again, I’m over this. Look at him! So image conscious! Look at him in his fancypants shoes and his suit jacket and his….well…his jeans.”

I catch myself.

Open to my partner, no matter who, no judgement on them. So stop judging! Don’t ruin this dance with a closed attitude before it has even begun. You don’t know anything about him or how he will lead you.

He tells me he is Pete from Sydney.

Pfft.
Sydney. City slicker.
Oi! Courtney! Stop that!

He takes my hand leading me onto the crowded floor, I turn in to face him, ready for another duel. Be fully present, no expectations, no judgements, I remind myself. Ooo! He is just a bit taller than me, I’m 176cm. My arms rest into the embrace…
Wow! I have a silent jaw drop moment.
THIS is what I’ve been waiting for.
Every inch of our hands and all the way up our arms, into our embrace is buzzing with engaged connection. Here is someone really holding me, not afraid to look at me and just feels so damn good in my arms. The entire dance was such a pleasure, the whole feeling of it was a mutual, “I don’t want to let go of you.” Magical unicorn connection. I lean in to give the end-of-a-really-good-dance-peck-on-the-cheek-thankyou but he stops me and says, “That…was beautiful.”

Then what do I do?

I avoid him the rest of the night!

I was so happy, I didn’t want to let that feeling go.
And I was convinced it couldn’t be repeated, it was just a lucky moment, a product of his quality leading, my attitude – capturing and challenging my negative thoughts, a good song, him doing LA style salsa on1, the only style I have learned, him not pushing me out of my level, we both had a similar personal style, a smooth style of movement, there was little room on the floor so he did simple compact moves meaning I wasn’t a frenzied following zombie, I could relax and do body movement and arm styling. And he wasn’t afraid to show me he enjoyed it, and when I held my own during a turn or kept my lines I could see he was appreciating it.

Now having danced with heaps of guys, I know better, that yes it was all of those things but that’s not to say it can’t be repeated. Should we meet again, I’ll be putting a ring on it.
What I thought would satiate me has only fuelled the fire. When does this end?

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Reflections on dance and life #4

April 23, 2016 1 Comment

When I got the virus I denied that I was sick. I refused help for a week until I moved into my parents. After a couple weeks convalescence I returned to pushing, denying, and ultimately learning the hard way that I was prolonging the recovery. A couple of months passed, I got better. I felt about 90%. My first shift back at work.
I wasn’t really better.
I had no idea how fragile that “better” was. A relapse of PVFS/onset of CFS occurred and finally I accept I am not ok. I am so shocked at my exhaustion that I stare at my hands expecting to see decrepit elderly hands. I am finally allowing myself to rest, accepting that my body is saying STOP! But this time, the rest doesn’t help. There IS no confusing cycle of exhaustion, rest, feeling temporarily ok again, exhaustion, rest, ok, repeat. There is just a constant heavy broken body that can’t seem to cope with anything, sunlight, baths, noise, chemicals, thinking, being upright.
Boy was I scared as it dawns on me what have I done.
Thankfully I was only like this for about a week before it started lifting inch by inch month by month. For some, it is more severe and lasts months, years. CFS can cause death. Isolating, only understood by those who have experienced it themselves. Even I couldn’t grasp what was wrong with my friend who had CFS for 5 years until I got this PVFS myself. “So what are your symptoms again? Or, so…why can’t you work?” I’d ask, time and time again, feeling blankly confused but curious. It never sunk in until now.

Now my catalyst was a dear friend. I didn’t want to be visited, I was embarrassed. I was pale and thinner but I still didn’t look sick, I looked alright. But she understood the experience of CFS and when she spoke these words to me, every cell in my body felt the full blown truth:

It is HARD
to admit
that

I

am

weak

Some kind of wall inside me broke and I was flooded with the pain of this deep truth I had been ignoring. Hearing it aloud from somebody else allowed me to accept. To release the denial, to see the truth that had evaded me, clouded by other peoples words and judgement, furthered by my own self-doubt. I now knew with certainty that every tiny whisper I’d heard but not heeded from my body was truth.
Listen to that whisper. Trust my body.

I had no idea how powerful my own self-doubt was, whittling away my health. People have no idea the effect of their frivolous words. To this day I can still find a hatred and resentment in my heart. God grant me forgiveness, dissolve this bitter anger, it is of no use.

In my time of physical weakness I discovered inner strength, the facing of denial, the uplifting of deceptions.

 

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Reflections on dance and life #3

April 21, 2016 Leave a comment

Dead space

The period of stepping away from salsa, absorbing my mind with different things provided a much needed perspective shift.

Months on, unsure how my health would stand up to the next lesson, but determined (with permission from my doctor) to try just one. The thought quietly crosses my mind if I dance now at this fragile state of health, I may be doing damage that robs myself of the ability to dance later for who knows how long.
But I cannot say no. I can’t face the loss of dancing from my life when so much has gone out of control. When I have had to give in to my body and let it run my life. When work tells me I cannot return to normal hours.
At the time it felt like a waste of a lesson, I made no milestones & we worked on my arms again for the sixth lesson in two years. Yet in hindsight it was a very significant lesson.

I went in having given up salsa in my heart, I was so sick of being pushed and pulled and not fitting in. I try to explain to him I don’t want to do salsa but he is scanning the playlist and doesn’t seem to hear me. I haven’t done any salsa since my last lesson in August, having been sick with the dreaded lurgy ie glandular fever. I complain about the lack of salsa scene here, I don’t know why I’m bothering even trying because there are no performance opportunities here or competitions. The ballroom scene has 3 pro couples in Tasmania, an expert teacher who is a national judge and socials every single week!
It’s too late…the clave starts playing and I cannot say no to his outstretched hand even though I know my salsa will be in some sad sorry state of disrepair.
I’m off balance everywhere…“The floor is so slippery!”
“Is it?” playful look in his eye.
Hm I think he means I’m not using my feet. So I put some more stomp into my stompers and find that indeed the floor is not so slippery after all…! Over a few minutes my body slowly remembers and my dancing improves, he is pleased with my quick ‘recovery’ as he calls it. Me too, was expecting weeks to get it back.

My homework is to use every opportunity I can to do cupping styling with my arm. Even though he has taught me this movement before, I don’t use it because I can never see where to use it with our leads. he showed me how to find the spaces to use it and it’s easier now I just have one piece of homework. Something to be said for working on less goals at once.

It was a significant lesson because although at the time I didn’t give it any attention, I found something had changed in me. There was freedom of movement in my hips, I was less a frozen icypole! Yet I hadn’t DONE anything. No salsa in months! This time, there had been no training my body with physical practice at home. Yet here I was seeing results.

Interestingly my instructor didn’t comment. Maybe my technique was shite; maybe he didn’t want to draw attention to it knowing how ridiculously sensitive I am. All he did was briefly stand me in front of the mirror and push my ribs side to side, saying, “Now we need to start freeing up your rib cage / upper body”. I didn’t realise he just gave me one of the very tools I needed to go to the next level in my dancing.

I knew I could do it, body movement, I can remember after my cousin dragged me along to my first salsa lesson (“to meet boys!”), dancing around like loonies to Latin music in her trashy one bedroom unit, discovering my body movement. And now, I use it every time I practice alone in my lounge. I just have trouble letting it out to play in public. I needed to learn to trust that my body knows what to do, to be less fearful, to take risks.

In the physically dead space of illness something had changed within me. My self-trust. And it flowed through my dancing, bringing my body movement from the invisible to the visible.Overthinking, mellowing and fixating on the many wrong things about my dancing was keeping me stuck in a cycle of negativity that I could not work my way out of no matter how much I tried, thought, reflected or blogged about it. I had no idea that my progress would lie in the stopping of all these things. In the rest. I find myself letting go, my dance progress becomes less important to me, I stop taking it so seriously.

This bitch of an illness provided a well-timed break, a break that I would never have chosen for myself.

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Reflections on dance & life #2

April 18, 2016 Leave a comment

7 months on from PVFS I am starting to wake up from the dead. Some reflections from the sidelines of my salsa journey over the last year.

Who we are and what has formed us, build a unique combination of hindrances and assets that we bring to our learning. It takes an insightful teacher to navigate these by providing a safe space, balanced with pertinent pushing, to open the door for students growth.

I was horrified to see how I looked the first time I saw myself salsa on video! Apparently it’s normal to feel nauseous the first time. Suddenly I saw everything I dislike about myself blatantly screaming at me from camera, in the form of dance where each physical aspect that needed work reflected something of who I am…Too safe and predictable – take risks. Too controlled – let go. Engage – get outside of my head. Stop caring what other people think.

Over the 3 months since seeing the video I was lost in negativity not wanting to face any of these things, thinking that I needed to analyse and uproot each thing in order to move on, which sounds a ghastly process so naturally I procrastinated doing that and just wallowed.

Eventually speaking to my instructor about what was going on for me his response was so en pointe that I couldn’t ignore it, it shook me up and was the catalyst to spark me from my mellowing and face what lies beneath my blocks. I spent the afternoon emotional, writing blog after blog.
I was watching this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPOhLAGpLe8
“Ooo! I want to look like her!”, I thought.
In the same moment I realised, I will never look like her. Because I am me. I gave up salsa (for the 3rd time…lol). I will never be the salsa dancer I want to be, because I can’t change my personality, I’ve always been safe, controlled and inward. At the time it felt like a lightning bolt moment of clarity – of course this is why salsa is such a struggle for me! I’m trying and fighting to be something that just isn’t me! Cue my tango epiphany! In this moment, I realise I am built for Tango.

I got up the next day and took on my teachers challenge of dancing not just stepping through the moves, finding I was moving more freely and having fun.
A milestone social was made as I discovered what it is to be satisfied!
No longer song after song sitting, waiting, watching, overlooked.
I got asked for dance after dance, and for the first time ever I got repeat dances!

Some small thing had changed within me I think because of facing these blocks, rather than letting them drown away under the surface.
Others could feel it, for the first time I sense that people want to dance with me.

Despite this progress, I still believed I’ll never be a good salsa dancer because it’s so polar to my introverted personality and this despair hung over me like a cloud. Happy though I was to realise there might yet be a place on the dance floor I can call home -tango, this bug wouldn’t go away, each morning I woke to think, what is this thing that hovers over me still, I cannot shake it. It felt like a black cloud clinging overhead, for a few weeks.

I’d spent the month feeling very tired but unsure why because I was on holidays (I hate going to work in winter, reason enough to take 3 weeks off eh!). Unable to keep up with the rest of the world, but I pushed on anyway.
The next week, I was exhausted. Dragging myself around wondering how I can sleep for so many hours yet wake up dying for more sleep. (Is there such a thing as pre-viral fatigue? O_o)
Then I became sick with a strange virus. I escape into the sound of Ed Sheeran on repeat. Distraction from misery by imagining myself moving to his beautiful music.

All of these depressing dance musings go to the back of my head of little importance, as it takes all my energy to navigate recovery from the virus over the coming months.
In hindsight now I’ve woken up from that despairing place, I know I don’t need to change who I am to improve in these areas, they actually have nothing to do with introversion they are just less developed parts of me from anxiety or the way I’ve been brought up. Taking risks, being experimental, less self-conscious more engaged are good things and working on them will round out my personality more while still being true to my quiet nature and introversion.

Overthinking my flaws was useless, it lead to despair and untrustworthy thoughts – me thinking that I can’t do salsa because of who I am felt like a lightning bolt moment of clarity but I can see now it was a lie. Question my thoughts.

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Overlook.

April 9, 2016 Leave a comment

I was so defeated after my August salsa lesson last year that I overlooked some positives that occurred. Firstly my amazingly one-tracked brain impressed my instructor!

He identified that every time he leads using my left arm, I’m not following & losing balance, so he gets me to try giving equal connection both arms. I’m right handed. I am concentrating so fiercely. As we dance I feel beat 1 is behind us somewhere: Hm there’s the 1! Why aren’t we ON it! He always corrects if we’re off time. Maybe he is too focused on assessing my arms. So I put it out of my head because I had to focus on my weak left arm.
He full on STOPS mid dance gasping at me with shocked delight, “Zomg we were just dancing on 2 and you were following me perfectly!” like he’d just discovered an exciting treasure.
Me on the outside: Nonchalant. Oh cool, I’m not really sure what that means.
Me on the inside: JOY WOOHOO! Absolutely giddy with delight that I impressed him! I can do on 2 when all I know is that it’s something that you do when you’re good!”
Then he shows me off to my teacher saying, “Look! What are we doing that’s different!?”.
Her: “Ooo you’re dancing on 2!”
Him: “Ok it wasn’t as good that time Courtney because you were thinking about it.”
Ever keeping my head on the ground…lol.
As soon as I knew what we were doing, I resisted it, it didn’t flow and I wasn’t following as well. Because I was thinking about it. Yet seconds earlier my force of concentration and one track mind somehow switched off that thinking part of my brain enabling me to follow new things that I hadn’t learned before.
I was so happy! But a little bothered that my immediate response was to hide my delight, as if it’s wrong to be pleased with myself, he must be wrong I can’t be good, or if I am then I shouldn’t say it out loud! Refuse, deny, squash.

Secondly, when using my arms he explained to not throw the movement away, that it’s a part of me not an add on. I try again and immediately get compliments! *mini swoon* “Très elegant!” *air kisses*. I was so shocked because I thought my arms were terrible because for 2 years he’s been trying to get them up and out and they just won’t budge.

Receiving praise is less frequent and harder to elicit the further along the dance journey I go.

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A gentle rediscovery of energy.

December 8, 2015 Leave a comment

Today marks 3 months since I was sick. “What do you do with all your time!?” People ask incredulously. A question that bounces out of one who can only be well.
At first being sick blurred the weeks, then morphed into sleeping 18 hour days, slowly becoming recovery and then “I think I’m better!” which turned out to be totally fickle. Setback. Body s l o w e d  f u r t h e r.
Now, I’m not back to normal. I am accepting a slower pace of life.
‘Things’ pile up and I don’t care! The shower is disgusting and its taken me this long to say never fucking mind! I accept my body is a temporary granny. I am liberated from housecleaning! Also from the many projects my creative mind likes to dream up, which I never had the energy to do when I was normal anyway causing cycles of pressure and guilt.

These days if I’m not at work for a couple hours or Tango class, I don’t really do anything. It’s been a pleasure to find there were a few more hours this week where I didn’t need to rest. So I’ve started munching on this delicious book, The Sound Of A Wild Snail Eating.
And now…a spring of water in dry land, for the first time in months I feel this tiny desire to create. Ah so good to feel something other than “dull…
stuck in the mud…
…my body just won’t GO”.

Now…a gentle rediscovery of energy. Mini setbacks week after week from stomping or even just toeing the line between activity and rest – living a normal life and healing- made me cautious. It’s still up and down but there is nothing left to cut out from my life! Exercise, housecleaning, tafe, life groups, piano, singing…already gone. Some dancing stays, Drs orders. You cut out everything you get depressed. That bug stuck to me for a short while. Starting work helped to dissolve its cloud over me.

Now when my energy comes out to play I am very cautious what I give it too, who I share it with. That has always been the way of my personality but now it is different. It runs me, it is no longer subject to what others think of me, my desire to be like them, incomprehension at why I feel different, frustration at tiring so easily. I had to give in, it has shrunk my world, my world has become little. Hopefully God will expand my life in new ways. In the stillness. In the quiet. In the paring back He will bring something new.

If I look a little blank when you ask how I am…lol…XD

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Harry Potter movie marathon

November 1, 2015 1 Comment

There’s simply nothing else for it.
Always wanted to do this! And thanks to glandular fever/post viral fatigue this is the first time in my life I’ve been able to give myself permission to indulge in 20+ hours of HP viewing.
Maybe it will cure me of my HP addiction, I am 27 probably need to grow out of it soon…But definitely not before I visit Harry Potter World. And make my own fangirl clothing. Sew a Bellatrix costume. Marry meet Daniel Radcliffe.
I’d invite all you fans over but I haven’t showered in a while…what day is it again? Lol. When I google GF, the not showering is a thing, an actual thing! People list it along with the rest of the symptoms!
Missed taking the bins out 43895902 weeks in a row. Now I finally venture outside to water the plants. The backyard is a JUNGLE! Where have the roses gone!? (Sorry Penny) And the spinach! Sorry Mum. Lavender! Sorry Rach. DEAD. All dead.
Think of all those petals that won’t be picked, dried and crushed. For….craft or something…soap that I don’t know how to make. (What the hell was I thinking?! Oh come on I know you have a stash of utter shit that you’ve collected for that day-in-the-future where you will be craft queen!)
And another thanks to GF, I’m no longer comfort eating! Despite still being stupidly worried at times (usually at 2AM about whether I’m “sick enough” stay home from work or “good enough” to go to work and not relapse). Yes I used to STUFF my freaking face in order to numb the anxiety that bubbles up about painful emotions that I don’t want to face.
So I’m facing those emotions now? No…lol one step at a time.

It’s taken a long time to accept help. So grateful I have friends to help me create picnic-inviting-lawn from the jungle and nourish me with home cooking.

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Glandular fever.

October 22, 2015 5 Comments

Glandular fever.
CRUEL IRONY.
Ain’t no one been kissin’ this girl!
Day 1 – Feel like death, killer muscle aches & sore throat like I’ve *never* had before. Throwing up & fevers of 39+

Day 2 – Continues…well where is the rest of the flu then, bring it on, never had a flu before. But still no sneezing coughing or runny nose, it’s like a half flu! Must be a 48 hour virus.

Day 3 – Ok it’s a 72 hour virus. How much weight can I lose. Norovirus lost me 4 kilos. Wonder if I can get out of bed yet…hm I CAN. I mustn’t be sick then! Everyone says when they have the flu they CAN’T get out of bed. Look at me go! I don’t have the flu! I’M NOT SICK!
I srsly believed this.
Lots of stuff to do around home before I go back to work tomorrow. Better go to rehearsal tonight.

Day 4 – What?! I thought there was nothing wrong with me?! This is a really long 24 hour bug! Back in bed, 48 hours of fever, cue my mum googling extensively is it better to let a fever run to ‘burn’ out the virus or to take Panadol… Mum the old-school nurse wins, no Panadol. Dad makes & delivers chicken soup to me!  (Along with 1kg of tinned peaches!? It’s now week 7 and I have 3kg of tinned peaches in my cupboard..)

Day 7 – I can get up! Yaaay I’M NOT SICK! Better go to the supermarket! Gee I feel TIRED. But I’m still standing, not sick like yesterday so…carry on.

Day 8 – As a very allergic person I have sneezed a lot in my life. But this was insane, *never* like this! Back to bed, pretty sure I’m going to die. Ok…I accept this IS the flu, the whole flu, not a halfie.
My body is screaming at me YOU ARE SICK but I scream right back at it: THE PLANTS ARE DYING! The house is a mess! Someone has to cook! I’ll just do it really quickly. Am I shaking? Is the world moving or am I woozy? Better lie down.

Day 9 – Move in to mum n dads, just for a night or two…famous last words.
Midnight: *coughcough* *coughCOUGH*…*coughoughcoughcoughcoughcough* repeat ad infinitum
Rest of the household: silently thinking STOP…..COUGHING….>.<!!!!!! They deny thinking this of course, but this is because they are kind.
Coughing is exhausting and you discover muscles you didn’t know you had, and to give those ones a break you find different ones until your entire torso is in crazy workout pain. But uncontrollable spasm continues.
Prayer from mum and probably many others, the spasm slows and soon leaves me for good.

Doctor thinks it could be glandular fever.
How silly of her, my glands are fine! lol. Must be an overly cautious & thorough doctor.
But I nod and smile. She is aghast at my throat. I think: Oh how sweet to find a doctor that is caring and still able to be shocked. Even when there’s obviously nothing wrong with me.
Srsly that’s what I believed!
Off to get bloods taken, I’m going to quiz the nurse on GF. The second I meet her I like her! Older, reassuring. Kindness emanates from her even though we both know after 5 minutes we’ll never see the other again. Difficulty finding a vein, “Luckily we’re not in a rush”, she says firmly. (wohooo for nurses who don’t rush!) I promptly state it’s very unlikely to be glandular fever.
Nurse: Why is that?
Me: I’m simply not sick enough.
Nurse: How sick do you want to be?
Me: *stunned* Touché.
Hm. In hindsight I have been really sick even tho I didn’t let myself think so at the time. What more *did* I expect?
You don’t seem surprised, she said when she couldn’t get the blood. Uhh..I never seem anything, that’s just my usual ninja face. lol
Back to the car, burst into tears. I didn’t even think I was sick, I only just accepted it is the flu and now it might be GF, what the heck even is it?!

GF means I wouldn’t be able to dance & might have to miss the next salsa workshops and that is horrifying as it’s one of my only joys (joy here meaning bittersweet joy followed by deep deep turmoil making you question if it was ever worth it in the first place…lol, see multiple posts below). So I take that thought and all the feelings surrounding it and I put it in a little box and put that box away and choose to feel nothing instead. This is a dysfunctional ability that has taken years to perfect, I don’t recommend it lol.

Bloods test negative for GF. White cells nasty, CRP 30 which everyone was shocked by but I see them in the 100’s at work so thought nothing of it. I move back to my home. But having to get out of bed to DO so much (read: shower & eat) is making me weak, shaky and dizzy. Awake at 5AM with muscle aches. WHAT?! I thought I wasn’t sick anymore! Thought I was getting better! Cue sobbing. Wish I had my canine friend Collie to cuddle. <24 hrs since going home I’m back staying at mum n dads 😛 lol
Sleeping 14 hours a night and waking up only to think Gah! Why did I wake up?! NOOOO go back to sleep I’m so tired! And then sleeping during the day.

Doctor, I thought I was getting better but why do I still have symptoms after 3 weeks, I’m so tired and every time I start to feel better I do a little more ie 10 minute walk, pace of a caterpillar, feeling like a dead weight, and then I get tired and if I don’t stop then I get sick.
“Post viral fatigue” is caused by a number of different viruses & happens when you don’t rest enough during the initial phase. Another blood test for GF as sometimes the first one is a false result. This nurse is efficient. I become a task, not a person. Wow, the power of a 5 minute interaction. That’s the power I hold too as a nurse and as a person.

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October 17, 2015 3 Comments

Ballroom classes – in a studio with mirrors. Now I can see myself. Strange. Why am I different. I do what I feel is movement – leg action, hip movement, arm lifting. Yet I look up and see barely anything, the barest trace of movement. So used to this silent squashing am I that I’ve forgotten what it’s like, that the tiniest of pushing outward feels so loud yet is so small. These closed lines are written deep. Why do I look and feel locked in a strange body that is so uncomfortable. What is this massive disconnect between my mind and my body. The distance. This body feels like a stranger to me. I’m not at home and it shows. I feel locked.
Years of hatred, believing myself to be ugly, telling myself to disappear, to squash down, to be invisible, have settled deep right down into my bones. Carved out these stilted lines. This person who doesn’t know how to BE.
I leave class feeling I am this awkward and heavy thing. This thing, this body I carry with me attached to me is so devoid of any life. It is dull and dead. The others have this lightness, a bounce and energy to their being, their dancing. I try and mimic it but I feel a dead weight.
As I slowly sift through this new journey of forgiveness that keeps cycling back on itself, I realise I’m the only one left, the one left waiting.

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October 16, 2015 Leave a comment

Tenacious: seeking something valued or desired.
Persevere: Maintain an action, purpose or idea in the face of difficulty.
Grace: A virtue or power granted by God.

In these dry, empty waiting times
I need to find the same perseverance, tenacity and grace
that drove me
through the times of longing.
The times when I was facing a steep climb of the mountain before me. It’s easier to take the dread and the pleading to God in that phase. Now the mountain has been passed. Well I guess it’s bound to be one of many.
But here…the plateau. We’re left in a wake, picking up pieces, finding our way through a new territory. Here, the longing is not so present, it’s quiet, it doesn’t loom. Yet it hasn’t been fully met.
And how easy it is to forget it.
Now this is where true perseverance is found. Where real tenacity is born.
In the quiet, empty times where God seems distant.

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