red tent;

June 4th, 2013 · 0 comments

today i finally let my father see a video of my dancing, a recent performance filmed at a gathering i was invited to attend last month. it took place at a beautiful, humble home in the mountains, and the women there told me that they hold such a gathering every month to reconnect with the earth, with each other, with themselves; to laugh and grieve and make their nourishing woman magics. a kind of red tent sisterhood. a heart tribe of mothers, dancers and healers.

it was not one of my best technical performances, but dancing before all those beautiful strong and earthy females, all that warm feminine energy thrumming in the air; i felt powerful, significant. primal.

.
i sought permission from every woman that had been present before allowing my father to watch the video. (high respect for these secret, sacred spaces.) tonight he called me and i sat for long moments kneeling in the doorway of my bedroom as he told me in his deep cowboy voice that i have loved all my life, that he thought my dancing was beautiful; that his daughter dancing was beautiful. and when somewhere in there his voice cracked, my hands went fisted by my heart.

this low, wide moon in my belly.
this lushness humming in my throat.

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