Sometimes the shadows overwhelm the dance. In relationships, that can mean that we have fallen into shadow, and are no longer dancing.  That seems to happens when there is no real listening, or our attention shifts to the dark parts – the unlit terrain of the relationship.

What is the path out of that?  I think it is deciding that the history of the shadows, the background architecture of the story is no longer really important. What is needed is finding a way to flow forward with good intention.  Then the shadows are not a problem, just playful dance partners.

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I have been shadow dancing this morning.  It is a strategy that I suggested to some of my students:   to overcome creative inertia, try dancing around it.  Or diving into it.  Or changing the station.

Dancing around it means that I am doing the opposite of honing in.  I am shifting focus, paying attention to whatever is flickering at the edge of consciousness and being lighter, more fluid and delicate in my physical self.

There is a tendency when writing or working here – in this digital place where we meet – to get stolid, turgic, thick-feeling in the body.  So finding ways to bring in lightness and less density is a good way to shadow dance.

How do you engage your playful body as you are working?

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