Full for the Sake of Full

I could see myself there, the universe of choice swirling around my body. An array of options, scenes, energy, images in motion, circling all around. A haze of sparks, fuzzy shapes and cloud-like matter, a tornado dancing, picking up speed.

Me, standing still inside the spin.

Well, almost still. A small sway waving through my body, I gently rock side to side, back and forth. Arms dangling at my sides. My relaxed face, eyes closed, revealing the surrender completely. Shoulders broad, a lifted posture gently gliding down my back met with soft hips, knees bent, ankles flexing as my weight shifts.

Steady, slow, bliss resting across my jaw and collarbones.

I can see the tornado, drawing sight from far beneath the closed gaze of my eyes. The whole moment is about knowing it is there. And swaying anyway.

I feel nothing in particular. I look sweetly calm and rhythmic in flow, as if I am listening to a chill jam band song I love and we are at that 7-and-a-half minute mark in that track that just entrances ya. But I don’t even have music playing.

Whatever is making the groove happen, I stay with it.

Before I know it, I am moving all around the space, almost dancing. Throwing myself to and fro in a controlled but totally spur of the moment style of motion. It is small wispy releases of the arm, the palm unfurling. A contraction of the elbow, bending at the waist, the body curling into itself.

It is not emotional. It is art, shapes, love. A dance of this moment, the way it gets to be expressed, right here, right now, in my skin and bones. Today.

For the intrinsic value of its existence. My existence.

Perhaps there are things to let go, release. Or prayers to call in and of course, gratitude to offer. But we may also dance for the sheer sake of the body being in vibration, alive, right now. There can be more than just something to say. A wave of understanding trickling through a spinal curve or a thrashing silent poetry found in the skin stretching, beneath the words.

Something does not only hold value because we name it. Many of our most cherished gifts are simply held. No expectation or grand ending in sight. Simply a moment of existence being deeply lived because every second is, in its essence, this grandly important.

Profoundness. To fully be with ourselves, for the sake of our existence only.

Perhaps the full moon reflects this same truth. We celebrate it for being full, as though fullness were the pinnacle. But that is a human notion. The moon grants each of its phases the same measure of time, offering equal space to waxing, waning, light, and shadow. It hangs in the sky with the same quiet devotion, regardless of how much of it we can see. Its cycle unfolds across that great floating sphere for no particular reason — and every particular reason.

Intrinsic appreciation.

Loving not only for its outcome or what it produces, but for its existence at all.

Allowing it to be enough.

At home, in the middle of my work day, this looks like grooving around in the sliver of space I have between my desk and the door. My little rug rolled out, I light a candle and the space is made.

That’s where this writing began. Me, seeing myself as I stood still after a wild, freely zinging burst of dance, in my tiny home office. Something says, go, and I listen. I dance. My breath, the flickering candle and some distant sounds of a neighborhood humming through a weekday, the soundtrack to this moment. My life, being felt, regulated, and whatever else.

I am in ceremony. Any dance goes.

I don’t have to name it. I just dance. My limbs move like trees in the wind. Sometimes fierce, sometimes slow. My heart sets a dream in motion…to be present with the moment and follow its flame. A practice to follow her always.

A practice that unleashes any time, anywhere, without the perfect studio space or class or teacher. Dance, as a birthright.

We were born to bounce.

To shake.

To howl.

To become full, not because fullness is the goal, but because every phase deserves to be lived.

Happy Strawberry Moon (June 29).

Love,

Adge

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Here’s a song to gently breathe and jam, if that helps (about the Moon, of course):

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Life as an international author, energy healer, educator & retreat host. Perhaps we shall meet somewhere wonderful on the planet, in person. My commitment to keep showing up, in flesh, teaching, learning and loving. Real life magic.

Just here steadily building a Rebel Heart Revolution.