This is one of my favorite tales to tell.
It involves myself and a brother. He's an odd one, this One, yet I have danced with him for years and, thus, space and time has bound us. He is my community - no matter how strange his thoughts or weird his actions. Years ago, I found him on a silent dance floor, his body held prisoner to his schizophrenic mind. He was pacing back and forth, wordlessly chattering with invisible frequencies as the rest of the studio ebbed and swayed with bodies free and spirits in motion. In observing him, I did not judge or analyze, I simply responded. I sashayed up to him, stood right in front of his dull gaze and implored with my whole bee-ing that he ground, down into the Earth. I opened my strong legs wide, pounding the floor with my feet, and non-verbally asked that he joined me. I made a grunting sound that emanated from the pits of my gut. I was ferocious in my attempts at bringing him back into this present moment, now, and he followed my lead. Soon, he was back in his body, out of his debilitating mind, and reveling in life lived as a large, singular entity - no longer just a lone individual to be lost in the crowd. I recall, after this experience, reflecting back and telling myself that I simply did what needed to be done. There was no heroism in my actions - as a community member, seeing to the well bee-ing of our collective wholeness is my responsibility. Period.
A few months later, I discovered him, once more, lost to the unreality of life lived inside of our minds. Again, he was pacing back and forth, muttering silent thoughts. This time, however, I whined to myself, "It's not my job." I thought I could ignore his pain and blame him for it - but this has never been who I am. So, once more, I sauntered up to him, this time using words, sound and movement. "Where are you?" I asked, as I cajoled him to join us in innocence and joy where real life and meaning unfold - time after time again. There's nothing more.
