the dance floor

Recliner with coffee time earlier, and the thought floated into my head – being tangled up. The very cool idea of being tangled up in something. Inseparable. Something sweet. Something surprising. Something which – being tangled up in and with – adds to this life. Makes it bigger.

A little while later I had a vision of standing up against a wall and someone coming to ask me to dance and me saying no, I’m not a good dancer, I won’t be comfortable, it’s just not me – tangled up in all that “less than.” All that “No.” And the person, who’s probably a woman but not necessarily, says, “Oh come on,” and “It’ll be fun,” and “No one’s looking.” And in the vision I go out onto the dance floor, and just like that, that small thing, my life becomes a little more tangled up in joy. Tangled up in “Yes.” Tangled up in being brave.

Yesterday was a year exactly of my moving into this room in San Diego. Tuesday I went out on a date. I am so tangled up in this fascinating and surprising and not always easy and often puzzling and full of grace life I have right now.