i.
She taught me greatly about TOUCH.
At the time, I was joyously opening my wide arms for embraces with all instead of withholding out of fear and I was quite proud of myself for having "evolved." Then, one night, I noticed her response to my touch. She didn't seem to like it very much. "Ouch," she said, so I moved in closer. "Ah," I drew in on a quick inhale. She is very fragile and thin. I never thought about having to modify the pressure of my touch - after all, wasn't it such a great thing that I was offering it in the first place? Yet, here she was, unintentionally teaching me one of my greatest life lessons. Move in to others slowly, gently - like a big toe testing the temperature of the cool ocean or a scalding bath. Listen, with my whole energetic being, to their responses to my offering. If silent yes's are conveyed, if an asking for more is felt, then apply more weight and gravity.
ii.
Still, I felt upset that she had created waves between myself and another sister. Had she done it purposefully? She is good at playing the victim - did she maliciously mean to hurt my sister and me? A wall of defenses began to erect itself around my heart. I wasn't going to play with her anymore. Yesterday, our two orbits came into closer contact again. I felt my fortress wanting to protect and defend. But, why? She is hurting and could use my LOVE, and why create pain for myself? AND, her actions actually brought my sister and I closer because we had to navigate the sticky terrain of hurt feelings by authentically communicating together. So, I melted the edges that had sprung up around my energetic body and I moved in towards her, offering LOVE the best way I know how - attention on a dance floor, recognition of another's fantastic swing, a catcall here, and a hoot and a holler there. On a dance floor, I can offer my LOVE as big, wide and grandiose as I feel called to do.
iii.
"What animal are you, Cara?" the Wizard asked, as we stood out on the blacktop after another magical morning of stirring our ancestral cauldron - a pot of humans writhing in space and time together (aka dance church). "You're a panther," he said. "A black panther," I purred back. "That's too obvious," he chirped in response. "Okay, then," I played along, "I am a worm." "Well, I'm a flower," the almost 62-year-old, silver haired man said. "That's too easy," I teased. "Then, I'm a bird," he responded. "And, the bird eats the worm!" he gloated. "YES!" I exclaimed, "I am really a witch and I got the wizard to eat me. Now, I am part wizard." "Heyyyyy!" he cried back.
iv.
At the park, A. wandered up. I hadn't seen her in what felt like months, so I stood up to greet her. "How come I haven't received any invitations to your events?" she sweetly inquired. "I don't know," I innocently responded. "You are always invited and welcome to everything I do," I confided. "I NOW FULLY EMBODY MY POWER!" she happily shared with me. "I was at AGAPE last weekend when Dr. Beckwith's sermon landed right in my heart and then I wandered out into the parking lot where the creature I fear most - a snake - was on display." I stood gazing into her crystal, blue eyes, mesmerized by her tale. "I allowed the snake's owner to drape it around my shoulders as I cried and trembled and the snake wound its way up my arm. "You're okay," the man kept telling me, as I confronted one of my biggest fears." And, that's when it dawned on me, "I'm the snake."
