dance dance dance.

I was sitting in Mary's living room on Saturday evening. It was a pretty idyllic feel...ornate pieces of cloth hung on the walls, all the girls sitting in the floor eating ethnic food by candlelight. We were celebrating Renee, and the fact that she is about to wed her love, David. After eating, and consuming a bit more wine, the dance music started. I looked around the room again, a room full of a half a dozen lovely and honest and real women, and I felt overwhelmed by the reality that that I am a part of their lives, and that we get to walk through the figuring out of stuff together. I asked myself how I got there. Literally. How did that happen? How do I continue to make it through life with such incredible people by my side?

One of the highlights of the evening of celebration was that I danced the night away, in the best way I knew how, as I don't really have dancing skills. But it's such a high...to let go of how silly you look and instead focus on how great it makes you feel...to shake the hips that it's tempting to curse, to move the thighs it's otherwise easy to loathe, to stick your arms in the air with no particular direction at all. 

The common thread would be...feeling more alive. This is a running hope for my life, to not let the monotony of days or routine let that reality die. A run brings it to the surface. A good conversation. The reality of true friends. Talk of God. And dancing.