Would You Be Willing?

Dancing with the Darkness [#4]

Just show up. The alarm went off this morning in a dream, asking a young man a question, and then reframing the question. And the words are already slipping in my mind. Would you be willing?

I had identified myself as my son’s mother, and I had called him on the phone, and I asked a question one way, and then rephrased my question in the middle. I should say, maybe the first phrase was, what would it take? and then the second phrase was catching myself, and then the third part, would you be willing? I wanted him to participate in some play, or show, or project, or gathering, could be anything and was something specific.

The alarm went off with the words How can people be so heartless? from the musical Hair and also Three Dog Night, one of my current wake up alarm songs, the refrain from my middle school years, perhaps one of the negative theme songs in my life. And the current theme song of the current American cultural climate and political landscape. The landscape that currently terrifies me, with guiding protection only that we cannot really visualize, cannot psychologically, or in our bodies, visualize our own deaths. Still there is an underlying fear of nuclear dust. The fear of being pulverized into nothings. Based on the self-serving mind and syncopated minions kneeling to evil.

I remember learning the word hubris, is it translated as tragic pride, the pride that takes you down? And occasionally or always we have leaders with hubris, now we have a leader with hubris, taking down worlds and lives, a true lack of empathy, seeming to have found his equal in the woman with the wide-brimmed hat, can’t be touched, powerful, under my thumb, also a true lack of empathy, I don’t really care, do you? Was that the question on her coat, was that really her response to children in cages, people who are starving?

My question, would you be willing, to the young man in the dream, brings up tears. Do I ask myself, would you be willing? And as the alarm goes off, there is a sleepy willingness to show up, yes, I am willing, yes, I am showing up. I am already reaching for my phone, to call back into the dream, I realize I have called him on a different channel, that I cannot go back into the dream, I don’t know the number to dial, to push, to voice, to get me back into that conversation. Thoughtful, observing, trying gently to connect, and secretly also, trying to get my way.

And the words, you do not have to be good, from Mary Oliver, and the rest of the poem starts to run through my veins gently, words out of place, you do not have to walk on your knees repenting, probably not the right words, I think there is a forest floor in there with gentle carpet of pine needles, but I could be visualizing the snow quietly falling on a soft floor after they enter the forest, the one after the wardrobe, and I wanted to say, reaching for the owl to send. The magical swirl of magical worlds, and the dream world of my own creation, would you be willing?

The question I was never asked, would you be willing? The sentence never spoken, I’d like to revise what I just said, would you be willing?

I reach longingly for a coherent answer and I find that I don’t know. The heart of the new year seems to long for this answer and demand a yes. And the young woman in me finds a no, I am not willing, you didn’t ask and now I will not phrase the question to myself, a coaxing into trust, encouragement to be steady and safe in the face of real and imagined dangers.

Was there a railing, a handle, something to grab on to? In the absence of full stability, there was the steadiness of rigid, and of the full energy of no. The steadiness lost from not having a bar for all positions, to hold me as I tested how I could stretch, and move, and explore the limits of my body and space. I wanted to create my own path, and there are no gold stars at the end.

Are you willing? I can honor that as my morning question, not are you willing, because I have a good record of getting out of bed, but what are you willing and this is my question. Not the question of how I feel, or what I think, my opinions about what I might be doing, but the list, what are you willing?

Why are you willing? How are you willing? Is the full phrase more about willingness, like an act of will, or willingness like an act of faith. I will try on an act of faith. Willing to move forward without regard for obligation, or misguided views, or personal limitations, a request, a hope and a prayer.

I have now turned in the direction of what is practical and feasible and can feel the wheels of planning wanting to roll. These wheels roll and I stall out. Not ready, yes a bright new list, so ready, no not yet, not enough in place. I stop myself with feelings in the body, with thoughts in the mind.

More words echo, this time from Maggie Smith, you could make this place beautiful, and echo again, you could make yourself different, you could let yourself fly, you could let yourself free, you could let yourself dance. Is the dance about meeting a challenge? Is it about personal expression? Is it about doing it just right, of mimicking, of being right next to a community that is right next to me, parallel play with a rush?

Today I edge myself toward healing, rejoining that path. Less frightened today, my body edging toward predictable. As it edges, I can edge toward a playground of light, cushioned, not solid, a new fall will not break me.