Tags
Bard, dance, Determination, disability, Imperfection, Journalling, Living Life, Magic, musings, Poetry, process, Strangeness of Life, Tarot
XVII: Star
Tell me,
my dreams,
which of you are true?
Which celestial spark points North
and leads me to my cave,
my court,
my stage?
And which is the lighthouse,
warning of the shallows
where sirens live?
Where do the rivers
of sleep lead?
In the spring of this year, I fell apart.
Some wonderful things happened. Some hard. I railed against the limitations I felt caged by. I explored ways of finding and making space.
The wheel turned, and everything changed. And nothing changed.
The trick to magical manifestation, I have always found, is to be clear on what you truly desire. When everything you’re holding together begins to fall apart, struck by lightning perhaps, you can no longer ignore the cracks. When beautiful things appear in your life they highlight the parts you’ve allowed to become stagnant.
Under the light of the stars, I find my clarity. I have stories to share, of how I became an accidental published poet, and discovered I’ve always been a Bard. I joined an Order, which makes me chuckle, and I’ve learned that I really am wired differently to the majority of people. And finally, finally, I can see a path ahead for my studies. I’ve wandered for several years without direction, buried under the weight of my thesis despite my gratitude for the opportunity. And now, perhaps, I’ve chosen a destination…
And I’ve found a way to dance again! I can no longer dance for hours every week in ATS Belly Dance, but I can strap my knees and back up (corsetry is surprisingly useful for this!), indulge in some spirits, and relax into freeform dancing as long as I listen to my body.
There is light in the darkness, always, and always more tales to tell.
Halo Quin 