"Magick"
M. says that last Thursday night's, "We Have Risen," was a magical evening.
Tell tale proof could bee how one of the evening's performers, a Sengalese man who teachers West African dancing and drumming locally, fainted. Long-limbed, his over 6'-tall body went from vertical to horizontal in a few seconds flat right in front of a small, round "bar" that doled out red wine and beer during our event. He fell right on top of a small, white child - a baby girl under two-years-old. Her "improbable" placement in that moment kept his head from hitting the floor. In other words, the baby broke the man's fall. He was lifted up off of her writhing body and they both were moved outside the gallery's front doors where each was tended to. Fortunately, a doctor was on-hand and "miraculously" found each person to be unhurt. What could have caused such a ruckus? One wonders....
One woman beelieved it was the spoken word piece that was taking place in the center of our heart-shaped performance space when another local singer and artist was telling an Earthly tale about both the dark and the light. With grand fanfare and resonant theatrics, Zoe beat the anecdotal drum of story - reminding us of its medicine. L. fell right at the exact moment when Zoe illuminated such an experience - "and the princess fell to the Earth." And, BAM!, next thing I know, L. is laid out cold on the floor below the bar with a baby crying underneath him.
Outside, while tending to the drama, T. berated me. "You're not paying attention," she said. "The energy is dark in there. We must smudge it." Given the space to do what she felt called to do, the woman who shared that her intention for our evening was to "transcend duality" then took to the microphone and intoned as well as sang in our "shift." "Shift the light," T. spit into the loudspeakers, as she encouraged us to open up our mouths and sing the same refrain. Our collective commitment for our shared evening was that our One, unified heart was open.
Later, L. went on to lead us through numerous West African dance steps as we moved together in time and unison across the gallery floor. Meanwhile, baby girl S. was carried home on her grandmother's hip, ready for bed after a full-night spent running around a dance floor after another two-year-old guest. I didn't see when M. rolled his self and his wheelchair out of our event. The seniors and the babies retired, the occupiers occupied a corner of the gallery, the "biggest art dealer in San Diego" joined in our tribe photo, while people from India, Pakistan, Columbia, Mexico, the United States, and more broke bread, communicated and shared, dance and enjoyed together. An embodiment of the King's vision?
INDEED.
And, all by the LOVE of a QUEEN.
