Close your eyes and imagine you’re having a dream… you can see a fire in front of you, a big vertical circle of fire that’s pulsing with energy so it’s as though it’s alive. It’s burning in the air like a slow turning annulus. And in the middle of that circle of flame you can see the silhouette of a figure dancing.
You move closer and realise the dancer is the most beautiful man you have ever seen. Muscles so defined they’re almost sculpted, wild dreadlocks flying, dark skin glowing, sweat droplets flying and glistening like prisms of molten gold in the flickering firelight. Dancing, a balance of perfection in motion, and always, permeating your very being, there is a thrusting pulse and drumbeat.
The energy of the fire, the energy of the dance and the pulsing drumbeat draw you closer.
You approach and see that this magnificent man is dancing one leg raised in the air, foot pointing toward release and salvation, inviting you to take the first step to walk the dance of your salvation. Somehow in the frenzy of constant movement, his other leg is fixed on the ground. Except it’s not on the ground, as you get closer you see he is standing on the back of a dwarf. The dwarf is ego; he has risen above everything the dwarf represents and selfless he’s dancing in the centre of the energy of the universe.
You move closer again, drawn by this thrumming beat that seems to be coming from inside you, deeper inside you than your own heartbeat, from the very pulsing life of your cells. You see that the drum is in his hand. He has four hands swirling round his body in this magnificent untameable dance.
One hand beats the drum, the pulse of life.
One hand is the pedestal for the dance of a cobra, swaying languidly, thrusting provocatively, head raised, hood flared, tongue darting, eyes like diamonds this symbol of renewal, fertility and the sexuality of sustaining life.
One hand is empty, pointing at his raised foot. The empty space between hand and foot forces you to acknowledge the agony of the apparent absence of god, times of absence of meaning, to confront the empty vacant voids in your soul, times when you’ve had no choice but to gaze into yourself and weep tears into the darkest abyss.
His fourth hand holds fire. Fire that is the end of all things, fire that is destruction, because in this dancing beautiful man you encounter all the elements of life; creation, salvation, renewal and destruction.
His third eye pierces your very soul. You gasp at that naked knowing.
Flying around his head are matted wild dreadlocks, cascading and crashing together like rapids and logs on a ragging roaring river. In his dreads, like jewels in the celestial sky, are both the sun and the moon, for this is the bringer of light to the world. Drawing closer still you see in the dreadlocks a small boat. The dreads flow like water, like the mother river Ganga the source of all life and fertility flowing out from this man’s head. And in the boat you see a skull, for death holds no fear in the realm of such magnificence.
Water coming from the river Ganga, his mistress, his lover, flows into you through the pores of your skin, all life comes from Mother Ganga.
And still this man dances, this god, this human perfection, this primal beauty… sculpted muscles, genitals raised, dreads flying, arms twirling wildly, drum pulsing, pulsing inside your body as the flames burn. Look into the beauty of the divine and meet the eye of the god.
You feel utter peace at the centre of all things. The fires burn, burn with the energy of life and the universe… everything is complete in the dance, nothing can be added by strivings or destroyed in tragedies. The rapture and freedom are intoxicating, it moves you to another place. A place where you are above ego, and where your true self is safe to let go and your soul can dance with the god…
Dance
Namaste – the god in me acknowledges the god in you, and in all things
Wendy's Out of Station 