I always want to have written more for this blog, but sometimes I can think of nothing new to say. All my words are gone, so I'll share some old ones. This is from my personal archives, about ten years old.

Ouphe and goblin! imp and sprite!
Elfe of eve! and starry Fay!
Ye that love the moon's soft light,
Hither-hither wend your way;
Twine ye in a jocund ring,
Sing and trip it merrily,
Hand to hand, and wing to wing,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.

Hail the wanderer again,
With dance and song, and lute and lyre.
Pure his wing and strong his chain,
and doubly bright hi fairy fire.
Twine ye in an airy round,
Brush the dew and print the lea:
Skip and gambol, hop and bound,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.

The beetle gaurds our holy ground,
He flies about the haunted place,
And if mortal there be found,
He hums in his ears and flaps in his face:
The leaf-harp sounds his roundelay,
The owlet's eyes our lanterns be;
Thus we sing, and dance and play,
Round the wild wich-hazel tree.

-Joseph Rodman Drake

I went dancing last night.... I have a terrible time trying to explain the way that I feel about dancing. Words always seem so flat and inadequate. After centuries of language humankind has come to believe that in the power and worth of words, but words are merely symbols. No matter how we may wish otherwise, a symbol is but a spark to an inferno. It is a thing which is not The Thing, but something else entirely. I know this when I leave the dance and try to explain my sense of loss. My loss is almost palpable in my hands, in my heart, in my mind, and screaming in my soul. I try to tell myself that the dance is not real. The dance is not important, but I hear the lie in my own voice.

I walked out into the night, but I could still hear the music from the club, so I walked a little further until the music faded and I was alone in the night. I said to myself, "Time to go home, there is work in the morning. The dance is over." But the dance wasn't over. I could still feel the movement calling to me from the night, from the Earth, from even the sky itself. So I lifted my arms, tilted my head back and danced.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

When I walk in the forest the forest leads. Often, Like a poor dancer, I try to take control from my partner and do my own thing. I try to ignore the subtle movements of my partner and move to my own rhythm, but like a master teacher the forest nudges me back into step, swirling me across the floor. Like a leaf caught is a spring gale I am spun into new vistas, new worlds, and like a wind blown leaf I am deposited gently on the grass when I lose my wind. Oh The forest can be fought. I can tromp through the woods in my black rubber boots. I can smash down the plants and send the birds to flight. I can even attack the forest with axes and fire and if I do the forest will not dance. It will stand like a jilted lover and wait for me to woo it back with soft words and softer steps.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

I was never in a group when I was in school. I was the odd man out. I wasn't cool or good at sports and I read too much. When I got to High School I started to find friends, but even then it wasn't until my senior year that I found a clique. I did try though. I sat through interminable lectures from well meaning relatives on being friendly to have friends. It didn't work. I also never danced. I was the kid on the dance floor who would just sort of bounce up and down in time to the music. Dancing was scary. How could I be sure that I wouldn't look like an idiot. Besides, I had/have so many hang-ups about everything physical that dancing set off every warning bell in my head. Nope I would not, could not, would not join the dance.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Dancing with Laura was like riding a mad horse toward a burning stable. She was electric, wild with sparks of red in her hair and sparks of fire in her eyes. They met in a to theater class where the teacher was much less interesting than the conversation. There was a group, but they were the two that truly hit it off. It was just a friendship, but she made sure that he knew that it could be more. On the phone they would laugh and talk for hours, reciting entire movies until their ears hurt from the phone and their sides ached from laughter, but it was the dancing that he soon began to live for. He had never danced before, well not in public anyway. Laura loved to dance and taught him how. At first it was awkward and she always had to lead. Later it was electric and they both led and followed. Dancing with Laura was like leaping in a field during a thunderstorm, waiting to be struck.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

You are never alone in the forest and the forest is never silent. That is something that the people in the city never seem to understand. The trees are always sighing and groaning. The leaves whisper and birds chatter. The streams giggle with the rocks and very ground shakes with the conversations of worms. When first starting out into the woods go slowly and if you are nervous take a guide. Stop often to look and if you get scared, hug a tree. Tree hugging is very hard. Many people turn away out of embarrassment, the trick is to close your eyes. It takes a minute, trees move slowly, but soon you will feel the tree yield to the embrace. Savor the moment and know that you have given and received a gift then throw your head back, spread your arms wide and shout to the sky.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Those who have not been in the dance still speak of it. They talk about moments of wild abandon. They speak in hushed tones of fire racing up their spines to electrify their brains. Some of these people spend their lives thinking that it was someone else who brought that fire and beat into their lives. They spend their lives chasing after a person to dance with, unaware that the pounding of their feet is a drum beat calling them to dance. Others run away from the dance. They lock themselves in cells of their own making and try to tell themselves that life can be controlled, but the dance doesn't stop just because they fear it. No. The stars waltz in mighty circles, the wind chases itself and dances with the trees, and God reaches out a courteous hand and says, "will you dance with me?"

For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.

"Come Away O Human Child" by W.B. Yeats