“The satisfied soul loathes the honeycomb, but to the hungry soul, every bitter thing is sweet” – Proverbs 27:7
I opened a door I had kept shut for some time. To allow my story to unfold as it would – no holds barred. For a few days, it was mighty freeing. Memories floated up, and I watched them take shape on paper. With space and time, some had lightened up considerably, others had transformed. Still others surprised me by stinging my heart. I was buoyant. I felt good in my skin – writing from my heart, taking a risk. Writing felt so natural, so purposeful. My table of contents grew a little. The word count crept up.
Today I feel resistance, restlessness. I keep sitting down for a minute, before leaping up, relieved with all these ideas that keep leaping into my head to rescue me. Make the bed. Do a load of laundry. I am only too happy to oblige. Wash something. Read something. Make coffee. Look out of the window. Great!
I pace, walking around our bedroom, trying to decide if today is The Day I take my crumpled clothes out and refold them. This thought stops me in my tracks, as this is a way more inconvenient suggestion than all the other ones I’ve received this morning. My eyes fall on a black box.
Within this box are new dancing shoes which have been in my wardrobe for months, tucked in a box on a shelf. I had taken them out a few times, tried them on. But since I ordered them months ago, I haven’t made it to a class or practise session. Each time I planned to … I always got tired or uninspired or told myself there was no point going since my husband didn’t look that keen to go to class (though he said he would). And I allowed myself to back out, to sit down again.
Today I sign up for Spotify.
I dance to the music – just whatever comes on. Nothing fancy, nothing major … here on the carpet, in between the full-length mirror and our puzzled border collie friend.
The shoes sparkle in the mirror and I can’t help but take a picture. I recall the first (and only other) pair of dancing shoes I owned, a beautiful gift I received from my friend Paul at university. As the years went by I had lamented the way they began to show scuff marks and signs of wear and tear; to smell a little; and generally – to be spent …
Now I look at my new pair of shoes … and I feel, somehow, like I cannot wait to wear them out.