I run around getting rugs from the cleaners, vacuuming, getting last minute gifts for my sister and others. I make sure to have energy for the solstice celebration at Queen Anne Christian church with Krista. When I enter, the room is dimly lit, the small stage to the left edged with boughs and white lights as are the balconies to my right.
The Solstice InterPlay has already started, an enveloping music with a moderate pulse filling the room as people walk creatively, greeting each other with smiles and big hugs. I am grateful to slide off my shoes feeling the angst of the day drain away as I do. When I join the group, it is enough to feel the generous spirits of those I meet for my heart to open.
Krista is grounded as she leads us in WSR, singing phrases, babbling and dances on behalf of our partners. I feel safe with this kind of leadership and become more grounded myself, more willing to risk being who I am, not who I think others might expect me to be.
Somewhere in here, Krista mentions how life and death are part of nature’s cycle of life and that the solstice celebrates the part of the cycle where the night begins to lessen, and the light of day increase.
We do a singing spiral dance that ends up with singing some words of love while facing the passing circle of people. The room seems filled with a grounded joy as I looked at those lovely faces opposite me.
At some point, we dance a dance on behalf of our partner. I share my concern with my partner, and her dance is full of answers for me. Take time, all the time I need to discern, attend the concern, hold it gently, then let it go, let it go. These answers are just what I needed to hear and warmth spreads across my chest. Ah, the physicality of grace.
Krista and the Solstice IP grounds me, helping me hold the still center and reminds me how being part of a community means being with those who are part of it, during good times and bad times, in sickness and in health.