Dance, when you’re broken open. Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you’re perfectly free. – Rumi
I saw this Rumi quote recently. I love it. Except when I don’t. Which might be now, since some days are rougher than others. Some days seem colder, harsher, kind of like going up the Down Escalator all day long.
The Dance quote makes sense, though, even during Down Escalator days. Because even then there are snippets of soul-searing beauty, of unexpected pleasure, of gentle comfort. The crunch of snow underfoot. A perfect crème brûlée. Colorful, mis-matched socks. A long nap.
Lost unless noticed.
And noticing is all it takes for the soul to dance.