The Muse

Traditionally, a muse is female. I think that's because women are innately powerful; incredible enough to inspire songs to be sung, poetry to be written, art to be created. The Goddess is an amazing force and she moved me to dance. From the beginning, my muse has been the great, glorious feminine force. She encourages me to be a women, to feel every feeling, to allow heartbreak and sorrow into my life as easily as I allow laughter and joy. She encourages me to feel alive, to really be here now.

I know learning and growing is part of dance and part of life. But never before, except for this moment, has my personal muse been male. He, an actual man. And, especially in a time of a few major life-altering events, this fact has shaken me to my core.
Never do I dance for men. Never has my dance been intended to speak to them. Surely, they can see beauty there; they can appreciate the movement, the music, the intent. But it is not for them.



Recently I had to push myself out of a very dark place. I had to force myself to dance. One afternoon, after a few horrible days I needed to work things out and dance was the only medium I had. A few hours at the studio. I let go and I danced and danced and danced. Amazingly, I moved through songs that had previously caused me to stumble. I moved through them feeling and connecting to the music. There was a bit of magic happening. And, in awe of myself, I did it again and again. I laughed, a bit stunned by an intense connection to the music. I felt so alive, such joy!!

It was only a split second before I realized that I was dancing for a guy. That's all it took and I collapsed on the floor in tears! All the movement, the joy, all the passion, the love was danced in gratitude of a man.

One specific guy who happened to take time to talk with me through a rough spot. Just a coincidence. He probably only talked with me because he was bored or because he didn't want to feel lonely that evening. But his words pushed me forward and moved me through a sad, sad place. I feel gratitude for him, for his words. I am thankful for a few moments of honesty and I'm thankful for a connection that made me feel human again.

But, also I am tormented that one person has so much power over me. Power enough to take all the horrible stuff away, even if just for a short while. Power enough to make me laugh out loud and then to nearly drown in tears. And power enough to move my dance.

It's frightening. Really. And what's even scarier is the fact that I still find myself dancing for him. I feel more alive and I can let go more completely when I feel his energy.

My dance belongs to me (or at least it did). I'm grateful for inspiration, but this muse is my demon. Pushing me to be better, dance harder, feel more, think less. Somehow, in helping me to feel human again, he gained so much power and I cannot quite find my own.

The thinking part of me says, "Get away. Run!" My logical brain knows I'm transforming and doesn't know into what. The feeling part of me, the part that is usually very subdued, is screaming at me to embrace the muse/demon. "Love him and grab hold and run with this change."

Even my logical brain knows I have never danced more freely. But I think it's not safe. Is it common sense speaking? or is it Fear? Maybe he is here to push me to create, to work harder, to dance with more feeling. If I allow this muse to move me, will he devour me?

I feel the Goddess here. But I've heard her for so long I've started not listening because I'm accustomed to her sound. Now, there's another voice I hear. Do I choose to listen, to follow?? Is it her; is she speaking through this demon?
Right now I don't know how to tell.