The Many Robes

I tried on robes of all kinds in every shape, size and color.

Long and short, thick and thin, gentle and tough, mean and kind. Soft and hard, dark and light, fighter and peacemaker, young and old. The variations went on and on.

None of these costumes fit. They tugged here, bunched and scrunched there, wrinkled and pinched here, hung too loosely there.

Three women wearing robes stand outside in nature. Each one holds a mask in front of her face, obscuring their own faces. The masks are the skulls of animals.

Lifetimes Peel Away

After years of this, lifetimes really – suddenly, no, not suddenly – slowly, yes, slowly, one by one, the robes are starting to fall off of me. Now I stand en pointe, center stage, on the proverbial stage of life.

I am the ballerina fitted in pink leotards. performing an intricate pirouette. The robes lift around me and twirl on the air in a slow motion spiral.

A serene ballerina looks up as she lifts both her arms over her head, crossed at the wrists.

Exit The Dance

The robes drop, scatter, litter the ground around me. I am spinning, slowly, circling across the stage, my arms flutter around me. I prance over all the robes now littering the stage with their multi-colored, varied fabrics.

On the tips of my toes, with tiny pointe shoe steps, I cross the stage to the waiting wings. Smooth movements of my arms up and down belie the exquiste, minute steps of the pointe toes.

"Exit stage left."

Photo of a ballerina, just from the calves down, stands on the tip toes of her pink pointe ballet shoes.

Ballerina Unfurled

Perpetual movement propels me forward. Now, even the pointe shoes unlace and fall to the wayside.

With bare feet, I twirl into the ocean waves.

I look up to see that an earthly robe is draped over me. It’s familiar and unknown all at the same time. Flesh bound to the worldly plane, subject to the rhythms and cycles of earthly demands and limitations. Yet, the spirit is etherial, boundless, free.

I’m simply a beam of light, a sparkle on a crested wave. Was that a flash of light we saw or our imagination?

Photo of the ocean's edge, where sand meets the ocean. The sun is rising on the horizon and 5 seagulls are flying across the sky.

Water Is All There Is

Water is all there is in this ocean whether it is crashes as waves on the surface or barely moves as thick, dense depths of dark glass.

Sounds of eternity travel through the water, but these tones are unheard by our limited human ears. Blue whales are singing primordial tones to each other across hundreds of miles.

An ocean throbs. Constant movement. Lifing up. Pulling down.

Water is all there is and we are the water.

No boundaries.

Only being.

A photo of a cross-section of the ocean showing the depths and the surface all at the same time.

Ballerina from Pacific Northwest Ballet

Hearts in the Wind