Barn Dance

I should rename by barn room, currently dubbed the “Sanctuary,” as The Wild Retirement Room for Killer Cats. 

Tuffy will be 15 this July, and it is no small feat staying alive that long out here in coyote country. 

Yesterday I was thinking about what self-care looks like for me, and I was reminded of how I used to dance everyday until the life change 2 years ago. It ended up being shared dancing with my husband, but it started as private dancing for myself. Nothing big. Just turn on a song and move. Sometimes it was an upbeat song, sometimes it was a slow one--whatever fit the moment.

Though it seems simple to have come up with, I hadn't given myself permission to dance before a Noom course recommended it. Once I started, you couldn't stop me, and I soon invited my husband into it, which he loved, but it became less a private activity. When the divorce arrived at our doorstep, it was like someone turned the music off. 

Well, last night at sundown, as I was out spraying the horses for mosquitoes and closing up the barn, I decided to close the big doors, turn on the breezeway lights, open the smaller sanctuary room door (where Tuffy was sleeping), move the portable speaker into the breezeway, shuffle random songs on my playlist, and DANCE again.

You may remember that my barn was not finished (or started) until after the music stopped in June 2023. If it had been done a  month earlier, much dancing may have already occurred in the breezeway. As it was, the beautiful barn remodel was born into the sadness and silence.

The first song shuffled on my playlist was "Rock the Boat," which really announced a vibe shift. In fact, it sent Tumbleweed out of his stall and into his run. So, I kept my dancing to Foxy's stall who, unbothered, kept eating her hay.  Soon I saw Tumbleweed's head stretched as high as it could go, eyeballs rolling to the side to see what I was doing over there.

It was good for him, and he eventually accepted it and settled.

The second song was "Na Na Hey Kiss Him Goodbye." While I moved to that one, I was thinking about everything negative that I was going to kick out my life.

But it was definitelythe 3rd, and last, song that will be most memorable to me, "Spring in Hours," by Florist. It will be memorable because Tuffy, my wild killer cat, came out of the retirement room and asked for the dance. 

I accepted.

And away we went, me careful not to step on him, and him, gentle and attentive as any dance partner I've ever known, stepping forward and back and to the side, accepting much petting, then purring and stepping.

The random song from the playlist seemed perfect for that moment and for him.

You are the kind of person soul that comes from the flower's center
You landed in this dimension
There's love in all your senses, your arms out wide
While you're inside there crying surviving
Look through an open window
Your eyes keep so much treasure
Hear what the wind will teach you
Feel how your body sings
With the world outside in color
And the world inside you always
Only light inside you now
Only wild inside you now
I think it's the long walk to the next part of your life
Will you hold me dance with me until no more?
You are the kind of person spirit I want to show it all to
Come through the open portal
It sparkles like sun on water
The way we speak our names
It's the same as blowing breezes across
If I can't live without it, I can't live at all
If we can't live without it, we can't live at all
I'm a dream, I'm a fraction
I'm somewhere between the near and the far of the butterfly's wing
There's sound that we hear and sound that we sing
And sound that we use to say, "I love you so much"
Oh, the light inside you now
Oh, the wild inside you now
Maybe there's something that takes us beyond this
And flowers like spring in our arms

Whatever happened last night--ALL of it is what I want in my life everyday for however many days are left to us.