Desert Story II

DANCE LIKE YOU’RE FALLING IN LOVE

It’s been seven years since I packed up my car and headed east out of Los Angeles towards The Morongo Basin. Lucky year number 7, 2020, brought with it covid-19, Black Lives Matter and political division across the world.

I had found peace in my little desert home which was now being disrupted by forces, of which I had no control. I resented this interruption. I was angry, distraught and fearful, all at the same time. If i hadn’t of been sheltering in place, I would have gone to the nearest thrift store, bought all of their second hand dishes and smashed them against my storage container, just to get all of the turmoil out of my body.

Since that wasn’t an option, I stopped, sat on my porch and looked around. There was the desert. Was she smiling, laughing or crying? I couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter, I could hear her sighing and then singing. She was telling me that she was still here. That I was still here. And wasn’t that fabulous?

I had moved to the desert for the solace; to be alone and to enjoy the freedom of solitude. I had everything that I needed, a working car, a place to live and a million stories to write. But somewhere in my journey of solitude, I made friends, who introduced me to other friends, who then introduced me to a merry band of musicians, who somehow got me connected with a theatre company, where I met other friends who were instrumental in the formation of my own theatre company and an international theatre festival. So much for solitude. I’m exhausted just reading this.

However, lucky year 7, brought me back to solitude, my original reason for being here. In my youth, i had studied numerology, along with astrology and other mystical sciences. I knew the number seven had magical symbology. What was it? Oh yeah. Rest. Connected words to seven were sabbath, the seventh day of the week, a day of rest, sabbatical, a break from academic teaching, usually the seventh year, Saba a word from an ancient semitic language meaning seventy wise women, which is directly connected to the word Sheba as in the Queen of Sheba whose land encompassed parts of East Africa and southern Yemen.

Now sitting on my porch I think again about the Queen of Sheba and her land. What did it mean that the very name of her land meant rest? It was a desert, kind of like mine. Did her desert sing to her? Did it remind her of who she was? Or how alike she and the desert were?

Sitting on my porch listening to the desert sing, I hear her say “you forgot to dance.”

......what? I had danced as a child, studied Graham technique, and of course tap and ballet, ending my dance career as the founder of an Israeli dance company......I was danced out....

“You gotta dance,” she said again.

“Dance like you’re falling in love. You can’t hold back, you gotta let go. Let tears fall for all the injustices, for all the slights, for all the lost chances, missed opportunities and let laughter ring for your successes, your triumphs, your health and well being. Heal your soul and let your spirit sing. And dance like you’re falling in love.”

Well, I thought to myself, if the desert is taking the time to converse with me, I should, in gratitude, listen. I remember the women of Chile dancing their grief for their fallen brothers, fathers, husbands and sons. I remember Emma Goldman saying, if she couldn’t dance she wanted no part in changing the world. I recall the the dance of Nelson Mandela, affectionally referred to as the Mandela shuffle. And how those slight movements brought joy to people’s faces.

It is with this awareness that I get up out of my chair and start to move. The desert wind joins me. I re-member, we have all been this way before, we will pass on through this time and maybe we will return, but maybe we will not. Many walked this place before and maybe many will follow, maybe not.

Look around, look around, I think I’m starting to quote a musical play, but anyway, I look around and I see that I am lucky to be alive right now. In this moment. All we know is that the world is changing. Are we going to throw away our shot.....wait, that’s not my story.

This is my story: A small town girl finds a life she had never dreamt about and she only had to travel three thousand miles from her birth home. After years of writing, playing music and acting, she finally sat down, rested and has found freedom in just being. All those years of dance training have finally paid off, because now she dances with the desert wind. She dances like she is falling in love, because after so many years of wandering she has finally fallen in love.....with herself. And she can say, to quote another play, that she found god, goddess within herself and she loves her fiercely.

And after I dance, I rest. I think to myself, this is better than throwing dishes at my container. I look out onto the desert landscape once again, quietly agreeing with the desert. The world is not perfect, but I am here, you are here and isn’t that Fabulous!