The Dance and The Sea

I vaguely remember the ocean’s call that came to me as a child. In my dreams, its whisper tickled my ears. The tide would sweep in on the beach and wet my tiny, inexperienced feet, filling me with delight. When the waters receded I would follow and speculate about what force drew it back. For years, I completely forgot the sea’s call, the wonder that had captured me in my innocence. I suppose the memory was suppressed and buried by the realities of the mainland. Whether it died in one specific moment or underwent a slow decay I cannot recall, only that my eventual hypnosis was strong and final.

While this is my story of liberation, it is as much the story of all those adventurers who dared greatly and led the way. Without them, I am sure that my life would sing an entirely different tune. I would never have even reached my solitary sandbar, much less what lay beyond the open expanse of sea. Now, on the other side, I can tell you I am eternally grateful. The journey was not easy however, and this is the story of that journey; the journey of creation back to Creator. I pray that you will let the power of its tide pull you out to your open ocean.

Firstly, it would be necessary for me to give a little background of the world I was born into and my place within it. My home was called the mainland, and for those who reside there it is everything that is good and safe and sacred. Heaped in tradition and governed by a domineering council of elders, the mainland is like a vacuum of constancy. In fact, to utter the word ‘change’ there is to bring curses upon yourself, and maybe even your family as well, if the Creator is exceptionally offended. So the elders say.

Uniformity and homogeneity rule above all, for, according to the elders, these were the foundation of all that the Creator found pleasing. They were the very foundation on which he created all that is. In practice, this uniformity displayed itself through what is called ‘the dance’. You must understand that, for most of my life, I was one of those leading the beloved dance. I was sold to it, not only because the dance was all I knew, but also because I was exceptional at it. The dance came as natural as breathing to a guy like me. Twirl, spin, round and round. I’ll have you know the moves never changed; ever. Any who altered the dance were first kindly asked to sync back up with the rest of the group. At that point, the plastic smiles remained stretched out across the elder’s plastic faces. If a person dared alter the dance a second time, well, that person would be forced from the group without mercy. The painful smiles disappeared altogether, leaving no trace they had ever existed in the first place. We gave you your chance, they would say, but you didn’t listen. The Creator is not in you. You are no longer in the interest of the whole. And then it would be to the sea for that person.

Those brave souls who dared to find a new beat. Their quest for a true rhythm once infuriated me as much as the rest of the tribe. I stood along and screamed at them to be gone. If they wanted different so bad, then they could seek it from afar. Let them take their evil where it belonged out on the open sea.

So engrained was I within the dance, my escape was nothing short of a miracle. And, to tell you the truth, it all happened by a strange coincidence. My experience on that fateful day was the very conception of that which would lead me to where I am. It was a normal day just as every day on the mainland can be characterized as nothing but normal. Twirl, spin, round and round I went, just as those alongside me. Up until that moment, I had never actually witnessed anyone change the steps; not up-close and personal. Mindlessly, I twirl, spun, round and round. Then, from out of the corner of my eye, I saw an anomaly. The slightest movement off-kilter so that, at first, I was not even sure I had actually seen it. I returned to the rigor of mindless focus. Then again, off to my right was another alteration. This time, there was no denying what I saw. Of course, I did not let the distraction keep me from the dance, but as I twirl, spun, round and round I could not keep my eyes from this dancer who was “off”. He had me caught, entranced…and confused. The modification did not feel “off”, though I knew it was. It must be. Then why did it look so beautifully intriguing, I remember asking myself. Why did it call to my heart? A heart, at the time, I did not know I possessed.

The elders assured me that my intrigue was simply the powerful draw of sin. They left me with a strong warning to push any questioning thoughts from my mind “lest you too should cave to the vile and selfish desires of the flesh”. This kept me at bay for a time, but I could not suppress the seed that had been planted that day. It grew and grew, no matter how I hid it from the sunlight. Whether I fed it with water or not, it sprouted from the ground. One day, in foolishness, I asked the elders what had ever happened to the dancer I had seen that day. Sternly, they shook their heads and told me that it had been dealt with. I saw the flame in their eyes, felt the bite in their tone. Suspicion was crinkled up in every line drawn in their ancient faces. I quickly withdrew and insisted I only asked from curiosity. As soon as the words left my mouth I sensed the mistake in them. Curiosity? They asked. Careful, young one. The wrath of the Creator will be felt by all those who stray from the path of righteous uniformity. I asked myself the same question: Curiosity? Since when had I ever considered such a thing?

For weeks, the strange and foreign thing grew in the secret recesses of my own soul. Even as I danced, it made its slow but insistent procession into life. Twirl, spin, round and round. Oh, have no doubts amongst yourselves that I fought it. Fought it with all the well-trained vigor I had come to trust in. I threw at that curiosity every word and line I could think of. Sometimes I would think, HA! I’ve defeated the damn thing. Next thing I knew it would come back with twice the strength as before.

So, what finally pushed me over the edge? I know that everyone is dying to know. After all, it is not an everyday occurrence to break from the traditional dance and certainly not something you ever expect to happen to you. One day, I was dancing. Just like any other day. Twirl, spin, round and round. That particular day I was especially aware of the secret growth. It was beginning to get so large that I was sure all the other dancers would see. I glanced left and right nervously. Twirl, spin, round and round. No one was paying the slightest attention to me and I chuckled at myself. Twirl, spin, round and round I went. Then I recognized the dancer from weeks before. So, he was still here in the land of the living. My poor heart began beating at an unbearable pace and I had to focus extra hard on my twirl, spin, round and round. The dancer was in perfect stride with the group, not missing a beat. After watching him, I breathed a sigh of relief. He had been wrong, seen the error in his ways, repented before the elders, and now was back to normal. The thing growing inside me could go back into the ground where it belonged, thank you very much.

But then it happened. This time the dancer did not simply modify the steps of the dance nor was he alone. He burst forth from the patterned line like an explosion. Holding his right hand was a female dancer, whose own audacity matched that of her partners. Twirl, spin, round—I stopped my dance in awe. Their steps were both deliberate and spontaneous, flowing from the depths of their hearts and I knew it. I did not know how I knew it, only that I did and it was beautiful. Each step, each movement breathed the diversity of life. Like a symphony they threw each part of their bodies into an unknown harmony, discovering as they went. The long, golden hair of the female dancer swirled freely around her face, as the two of them created together. I swear the beams of light from above seemed to shine on them like a smile. I raised my head and was confused by the smiling light; I felt it came straight from the heart of the Creator. That mesmerizing moment seemed to last a lifetime, until I was awoken from my stupor when another dancer collided into me. I was knocked flat to my back and felt the breath emit from my lungs.

Twirl, spin, round and round went the man. His eyes looked down on me with fierce hatred. He did not need to open his mouth to speak, because the eyes spoke for him. Without question, they said, what are you doing? DANCE, you fool! Fear slowly worked its way from my sluggish brain to my baffled muscles. I shot up from the ground and looked from the angry man to the fearless dancers, who continued with their insurrection. Petrified, I hopped back in line. Twirl, spin, round and round. The mutinous dancers refused to cease with their rebellion and within minutes the elders landed upon them. Second offense. Unacceptable. To the sea for them.

Twirl, spin, round and round and I never saw them on the mainland again after that. Not in physical form at least. Their image, their statement, their unashamed declaration of originality, however, would not leave my mind alone. The impact of their courage went far beyond words, but seeped deep into my heart. The curiosity that had been growing inside, now multiplied into a garden that would not and could not be contained. I knew from that day it was only a matter of time. Twirl, spin, round and round I still went, but the knowledge that had come to me uninvited would one day break through the monotony of my steps and that I knew for sure. It was not something I yet understood. I only knew that what had happened was building into a momentum of unstoppable force.

I assume it is not necessary to tell the rest in full detail. Only know that those few moments when I broke step were the most intoxicatingly sweet moments to that point in my life. Fear did not matter, pain did not matter, rejection did not matter. So lost in the movements bubbling up from out of my own fountain, I lost track of all else. For the first time, I felt the dance. I felt myself. I felt the Creator. Twirl, spin, round and round would never satisfy again.

The elders were furious and, though they would never admit it, terrified. A third dissenter in such a short period? How was this possible? In haste to preserve their precious tradition, they actually broke it. They skipped right past the customary warning I was due and it was straight to the sea for me. At first, the shock of the water did not break me. I was still living off the high of my own inward dance. Waves crashed over me, but the effects of connectedness had not yet worn off.

Then they did. And my world came crumbling down around me. I fought and swam and flailed in the water. Desperately, I flung my arms and kicked my legs to get back to the shore where I could twirl, spin, round and round once more. But the current was too strong. The tide I had watched with wonder as a child swept me further and further away until I could barely see the mainland; my home, my life. I did not give up the useless fight until I landed upon my sandbar.

In giving up, the floodgates opened and the waters of panic rushed in all around me. My fist crashed against that sand enough times to end the life of many men. Delirious and exhausted, I dozed off into dreams of twirl, spin, round and round. Only I couldn’t get the moves right. The elders’ faces appeared in my nightmare, red as tomatoes. I insisted that my inability was not intentional, but my desperate insistence only convinced them of the opposite. Next thing I knew they were throwing me into the mouth of some scaly monster of the sea whose fiery red eyes I will not easily forget.

From my sandbar I could see the two horizons. On the one, the mainland remained in view and I could still feel the numbing rhythm of life there. The other horizon held nothing, complete unknown. So there I stood on my sandbar, a foot in both worlds. Well, in neither really. I cannot rightly say that I had a foot in the world of those making noise across the waters. Nor can I say that I yet had a foot in the world I hoped I would find, that something real whose tide beckoned me out to the open ocean. That sandbar in between was all I had found for the moment. It became my stagnant refuge, where I wrestled with my new awareness. Though I wrestled, there was constant fear that I would never come to a decision, as I found the prospect of both sides equally terrifying.

On the one side, I knew what would happen. If I were to have gone back to the safety of the mainland and join the crowds and nations of people doing the dance, I would have found a kind of order. I could have repented, fallen back into step, and been applauded for how well I copy the man in front of me. The option held less worry, for I would have been vulnerable to far less of the uncertainties that roam the open sea. Then again, I would have also died. Most likely not the mortal kind of death, because that is the kind the people of the mainland do well to guard against. So, while I would have found a kind of perpetual, numbed misery, I could have at least subsisted with a semblance of control and safety. I could have accounted and planned for everything, but then there would be little to plan for, little to look forward to.

Then my imagination would shift across the waters to the other side. And you know what would happen? My stomach tied itself into knots; the kind of knots that only an expert sailor could conjure. I took deep breaths and calmed myself. Okay, just imagine it. Picture it, I said to myself. But that was just the problem. No matter how hard I tried I could not get a grip on the elusive future that was calling to me from the sea. To make matters worse, I was not even sure that it called at all. Don’t get me wrong, there were moments when I knew it was beckoning me to come. But then the next moment would come along and I would know just as strongly that I must be insane. I was surely hearing things. So let me map it out. Basically this was my predicament: I knew, but also didn’t know that there was something more beyond the sea. I felt, but also didn’t feel it calling out my name. I stared, squinted, closed my eyes and tried to see it within, but nowhere could I see the clear picture of what lay ahead. And the icing on the cake—the people over on the mainland were certain that leaving would bring nothing but hardship and trouble. Not only that, they had insisted my whole life that doing so was downright wrong in every way. The same place in me that knotted up in fear, also insisted to me that their words were false. A dichotomy of fear and trust arose from seemingly the same place, adding to my jumbled confusion and inaction.

All that fear and doubt, pressure from every side, had led me to my little islet. After a time it became a kind of self-inflicted exile. I was torn within myself and torn again by my own cowardice, which left me worse off than before on the mainland. Before was bliss, before was ignorance. I found myself with the pitiable knowledge that all, including myself, was not as it seemed. They say responsibility follows knowledge and boy were they right. I feared I could not handle the responsibility of the knowledge. What if I could not follow through on the journey the knowledge required of me? I began questioning whether I was cut out for what was ahead. I became certain that I must be cut from the same stock as the land dwellers and I can’t begin to tell you how true it felt. Certainly, the other adventurers who went before did not face the same turmoil and confusion, I thought. No, they jumped in headfirst and trudged bravely into the unknown. Hesitation had not been betrayed their eyes. They had not been cowards as I was sitting out there alone on my island.

At one point, I almost resolved to simply settle down into the sand. If I lay there long enough in the in between, I figured I would most likely be forgotten. After enduring the mockers and naysayers for a time, they would lose interest. If I hid, then I could disappear in a sense; wither away into silent anonymity. Out there on my sandbar.

That too, like dancing on the mainland, could have been quite comfortable. Sure, I knew I would have to endure the pesty sand sticking to my damp skin and finding its way into my mouth and ears and nose, anywhere it could gain access. Without ceasing, it would remind me of my responsibility to the truth. But hey, I’m sure I’ll adapt, I would think to myself. After all, I had been out there with the sand already for some time and I hadn’t cracked yet.

Weeks, maybe months, went by and delirium settled in. As my madness increased, my hope all but disintegrated. The accuser within kept at his chant with perseverance: Coward, Coward, Coward. I believed the words, and why not? Were my actions not cowardly? If the elders had been right, then I deserved to be spit from the Creator’s mouth for my lukewarm state.

It was on a day when my sulky hopelessness was at its peak when something amazing happened. Far out in the waters I saw a fish, only it swam like no fish I had ever seen before. At first, the sight was not enough to excite me from my self-loathing. I remained firmly planted in the sand, but I watched. The closer the fish came to my island, the more a foreign, yet familiar feeling swelled inside me. It took me a while to put my finger on it, but, eventually, I recognized it to be curiosity; the little demon that had driven me out there in the first place was back.

What is that thing, I remember thinking as I stood to my feet and strained my neck. The moment I realized that the fish was, in fact, not a fish, my stomach did all types of acrobatic tricks. I had no power to suppress the excited nervousness in my gut. The fish was actually another dancer from the mainland!

The long moments of waiting that followed were near unbearable. Impulsively, I called out to the swimmer, Over here! I’m over here! Fear of who the swimmer might be could not keep me from jumping at the chance to escape my unending loneliness.

When she reached the land, I realized I was breathing just as hard as she. Lying flat on her back with arms and legs extended like an angel, she looked up at me with magnificent blue eyes; life-filled eyes. Slowing my breath, I tried to speak, but did not know what to say. As I looked down on her, she showed her perfect pearly whites as her lips parted to a huge grin, and I could not help but do the same. When she broke into a laugh, I found myself following suit. Before I knew it I was rolling on the sand beside her, laughing hysterically without knowing exactly why.

I made it, she exclaimed proudly when we had calmed our giggles. Then she looked at me eagerly and asked a question that caught me completely off-guard: So, what’s the plan?

The plan? There was no plan, I told her as my bubble of excitement suddenly burst. The realization that I was still in the same place hit me square between the eyes. To make matters worse, I now had the pressure and expectations of another person on the island.

Wait, how did you get here? I wondered aloud.

She seemed unfazed by my lack of plan and began blurting out her story with no hesitation. I listened in amazement as she began telling me what had happened to her; how she had been there the day I broke from the twirl, spin, round and round and was thrown to the sea. Much like what had happened to me when I watched the dancers break from the traditional dance, something had been sparked in her upon seeing me unshackled. Life had spread in her heart like a wildfire that not even the elders could stamp out.

And the wildest part: people were starting to talk, she said. Word was spreading and discord was running rampant. The elders were up in arms, beside themselves with fear. A buzz had erupted throughout the mainland. People were asking questions that had been unthinkable just months before. She claimed with certainty that revolution was coming to the mainland, people would be coming to the sea in droves. If the life exuding from her was anything like what was happening on the mainland then I had little doubt.

But then the reality of what I had found since leaving the dance struck me. I looked at her sadly, ashamed that I would have to be the one to break her spirit. But I could not just let her elation build to a point so high that she would be crushed by the fall.

Listen, it’s not what you think it is out here, I said. I opened my arms and looked around, inviting her to do the same. This is it. I’m sorry you got your hopes up.

The girl frowned at me and tilted her head, but her eyes still jumped with life. Didn’t you feel the Creator when you let your spirit move your steps? It was—incredible. I’ve never felt so alive, like electric shocks waking my heart from death. Surely, you must have felt it.

I was surprised at the frustration that boiled up. Of course I felt it! But look where it got me, I snapped at her. There is nothing out here to be found!

Or maybe you stopped right here in the middle, she fired back at me. Her feistiness took me back. Who says this is the end of the road, she asked and pointed out towards the open ocean. Grabbing my hand, she placed it over my heart and said, What does your heart tell you? When you look out there and listen, what does it say?

The drumbeat in my chest picked up pace. I turned to look at her and she nodded out to the sea, directing me to follow her gaze. She was right. I could feel the limitless expanse drawing me out. Pulling me in. It terrified me as well.

You see, she said and winked at me. Just as you gave me the courage to find the rhythm the Creator put inside me, let me remind you of your own. We were made for this.

She was right, I knew, but it did not completely lay my doubts to rest. I nodded in agreement, nonetheless. We decided to wait; wait for the others who would soon be following from the mainland.

Our wait did not last long. When another from the mainland arrived at the islet the next day our hearts were elated, soaring with the clouds. A golden glow surrounded the young child when he walked onto the shore. His little legs were surprisingly strong as he ran and jumped into our arms. We had not known him, but our hearts were now connected in an indescribable way.

For days afterwards, we waited, chattering loudly with one another. Even my own doubts had been cast aside by the joy and support of companionship. I was not alone. The three of us shared more with one another in those few days than any of us had in our lives. A natural affection grew in each of our hearts as we felt the exhilaration of letting others in. We went to the depths of one another and saw the truth: We were, at once, the same and profoundly novel. That feeling of oneness brought life like I had never felt on the mainland and my heart soared. And so, in this way, we excitedly awaited the others.

But days turned into weeks and none came. My two new friends continually assured me that more were on the way, but the surety in their tone seemed to be waning with each passing day. One morning as we watched the horizon line, there was a blackness brewing over the mainland. Dark, billowing clouds were growing rapidly, foreshadowing the storm to come.

The size of our worry grew to match the building thunderheads, as we sat three ducks in a row out in the ocean. I cast a worried look in my female companion’s direction and she met my look with equal concern. There was an understood protection felt between the two of us for the young boy who had come to be on our island. His childlike innocence had stirred the longing to have our own restored. We would do anything to keep harm from coming to him, and the looming clouds made us uneasy. Lightning flashed across the sky in the far distance. It slowly became apparent that the storm would not be contained by the mainland as the darkness started expanding out over the waters ever closer to us and our island.

In the distance, sheets of rain came down so thick that the mainland was no longer visible to our eyes. My mind prayed the storm would turn or break up. We were completely vulnerable to the ominous presence marching towards us; I didn’t like our chances.

My prayers did not stop the rain. If anything, the pace of their advance quickened. No, no, no, I thought. The out of control feeling that had filled my every waking moment before the arrival of my companions made its comeback. My peace had been short-lived, proven weak and shaky by the approaching tempest.

When a lone, heavy raindrop found my head I released the last shreds of hope; the storm was not going to pass us by. Frantically, I helped my friends to their feet and spurred them in the opposite direction of the storm, out to the open ocean.

The waters were unnaturally calm as we swam away to nowhere. My mind felt cloudy and dull. I remember asking myself how this could be happening. I should have stayed on the mainland where I belonged. Was this the freedom the Creator had drawn me out to? To drown in the ocean?

It wasn’t more than half an hour into our swim that the glassy water broke, and when it broke it shattered. First, the waves grew choppy and broke over the top of us. Then the rain caught up to us and pounded relentlessly. I urged the others on, pulling the boy onto my back. I remember knowing that we would not make it. Where was there even to make it to?

The salt water burned my eyes, leaving me near-blind, splashing around in the water. Each gasp for breath brought on another gulp of water. I held on tight to the boy and jerked my head every direction, desperately searching for the woman. My head bobbed down under water, as I fought to keep the boy above it. Fear of death and will to live coursed through my veins and I fought back to the surface.

I called out frantically for our female companion. I caught sight of her head just before it went under. NO! I screamed. She was too far away for me to reach, thirty yards or more. A deafening boom of thunder split the air and a streak of lightning lit up the sky. Its reflection looked like millions of sparks shooting over the violent waters. The lightning also lit up the boy’s calm, innocent face.

Time stopped for a moment while I looked at the boy. I must have continued treading water and the waves must have kept at their attempted annihilation, but I was not conscious of any of it. Even sound seemed to disappear, as if it had been sucked up into vacuum. By the boy’s expression, you may have thought he was at an amusement park or playing with a new puppy, but surely not about to sink to the bottom of the ocean.

What’s wrong? Why are you smiling?! I asked him, yelling even though sound and space were still frozen.

Those rosy cheeks were full of delight, I’ll never forget the look; such a brave little boy. His round, blue eyes searched mine with care and he said matter-of-factly, I’m smiling because it’s so simple. You just have to let go. His voice was almost a whisper.

What are you talking about?! I said back, confused and full of fear.

Stop fighting it. Let go and let the tide pull you. Here, let me go, he replied.

No! You’ll die!

At the time, I assumed the boy had gone mad. The sweet, understanding smile did not fit the circumstance. I know now that he was seeing what I could not. He pushed away from me and said, Life is waiting on the other side. Give up the fight.

The boy smiled at me one last time and let himself sink. As soon as the crown of his head disappeared below the surface, I cried out and the chaos ensued. The frozen moment was gone and the storm raged with a new ferocity. Thunder clapped all around, its vibrations shaking me to the core. The waves had grown tall as three men stacked atop one another. Over and over I found myself in the trough between two waves, waiting to be slammed yet again. The waves crashed with such force that I was being pushed down ten feet or more, each time finding it harder to fight back up to the surface.

Every collision brought an accusation with it. Coward. Phony. Weakling. Scumbag. I fought to keep my head above, but knew my resolve would soon break. I threw myself back to the top and coughed up what seemed to be a gallon of water. With no time to brace myself another wave of incomparable power came on me. Unlovable! It screamed. The accusation reached my very core and sent me careening into the dark depths. The pressure pierced my ears and I thought they may burst. I sucked in a mouthful of water and as it rushed through my body, so did a fear deeper than any I had ever felt.

I fought, flailed, kicked, did whatever I could to deny death its prize. My lungs cried out for oxygen, burning for a breath. I was trapped, surrounded on all sides by water and my darkest fears. Swinging my head in every direction, I sought the surface. So far down had I been plunged, however, that I could not discern which way was up. Each of my fears mocked me, dancing before my eyes until I became certain of their truth. I was equally certain that I had met my doom. Fighting for one more moment, I took a good, long look at the accusations brought against me, and gave up. Everything went black.

______________________

Blinding light; blue, green, splashes of color everywhere. The inviting chirps of songbirds. Warmth on my face, reaching down to my soul. These were the overwhelming sensations I awoke to. My eyes adjusted quickly to the bright light and I looked around in wonder. I sat on a beach, whose sand was the purest white I had ever seen. To my back was the ocean and in front rolling, green hills and a forest of trees leading to distant mountains of indescribable splendor. Freedom hung on the wake of the refreshing breeze which swept through my damp hair.

I stood and started to wipe off the sand, before I realized there was none sticking to my skin; no nudging reminder of obligation. I smiled and tried to remember how I had come here. Memory flashed back to my mind; the storm. I searched myself for the expected feelings. There were none to be found; none of the pain, guilt, shame, doubt. Instead, it was peace, freedom, and warmth. What a strange sensation, I remember thinking. The truth of my cowardice remained. I looked it square in the face and you know what? I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. No doubt it was what I had been, but it was not me.

I scanned the beach until my eyes found what I knew they would; my friends. Etched into my memory is the sight of them at the break of the tree line with proud smiles on their faces. My two companions, the boy and the woman, and beside them the two dancers whose courage had incited my own path to freedom. Freedom, here it is, I remember thinking for the first time in my life.

As if sparked by a gunshot at a starting line, we all broke into a sprint, I to them and them to me. They tackled me to the sand and wrestled me down. Elation and pure enjoyment filled me as we played and laughed. When we stopped, I looked each of them in the eye and a knowing light passed between us. My days of doubt and inaction on the island now seemed laughable. What had I been so afraid of? I thought of the mainland, of the dance. How had I been so blind? It didn’t matter now.

I grabbed the two dancers by the hand, telling them how grateful I was. Their story, their life had saved me. They laughed, but said nothing. Their looks spoke something I could not find at first. Then, it struck me. I looked at the other two, the boy and the woman, and remembered that I had done the same for them. I was the same. And the boy and the woman had done the same for those who would come behind them. I saw myself and those around me with overwhelming clarity and appreciation. We were all the same and all deeply tied to one another. Them being them, me being me, was what had led us all to freedom; together.

The little boy jumped up into my arms and I hugged him tightly. You little rascal, how did you know what to do? I asked him.

Why would I have wanted to hold onto the fear? That would have just been crazy. How could the tide have pulled me in if I didn’t let go? he said to me with his child-like voice and directness.

He had a point. Feeling brave and adventurous, I set the boy to his feet and walked over to my female companion. Without a second thought, I pressed my lips to hers and felt her melt into my arms. When we pulled apart she got sassy and told me how long she had been waiting for that. Then we both broke into deep belly laughs.

It all happened in a moment, my freedom; a letting go. I looked around me at the people and the landscape. My heart felt free to roam and I lifted my face to the sky. I felt the Creator’s smiling nod of approval.

My days since have been filled with great adventure and recklessness. Curiosity, the little demon, has become one of my closest friends. This story is my encouragement to you; encouragement to break into the dance the Creator put inside of you. Dance, soar to the heights, plunge to the depths. Face the fear, face the lies; see them for what they are. And when they rear back and show their sharp teeth, give ‘em a fist to the mouth. Take away their power. And you know how you do that? After a long, hard fight, I learned that the real power is in the letting go. Let go and let the tide take you where it may. The tide always leads to the heart of the Creator. Now, get out there and find your own dance.