The Journey Inward

Beers in hand, my friend and I pulled up chairs to listen to live music at the local festival. The day was hot and humid and dark clouds threatened rain. There was a good sized crowd and listeners were, for the most part, attentive to the band.

I LOVE live music and can listen to any genre, anywhere. I appreciate the talent even if I don’t care for the rendition or the voice. I admire the confidence of the performers. I am invigorated to be in the presence of creativity.

On this particular night, with my good friend of 32 years, we settled in to enjoy the music and continue catching up, as well as to decide which food trucks to hit up. But there was one thing that captured my attention, pulling me away from all of that. The children!

In the green expanse between the stage and the fans, a handful of children were dancing, moving freely, feeling the excitement of the night. I was enraptured by their lack of inhibition. If they noticed any of us watching them, they didn’t care. The music was working through them and the moment was pure joy. Little ones twirled and twirled, while the older ones added some gymnastics.

I soaked in their exuberance, their ability to be in the moment. I yearned to feel that way again, dancing without a care, moving for no one but myself. I vowed right then and there that I would find the earliest opportunity to do just that.

Less than 24 hours later, I haven’t found it yet, but scored a small victory at yoga this afternoon. My instructor is nothing short of amazing and encourages us to ad lib movement as needed and desired, sinking into our bodies and honoring what they are asking of us. I took the liberty to do just that and found small ways to tune into myself and let go. The result was nothing less than liberating. Baby steps…

Photo: Corn, Tomato and Beer Festival. Flemington, NJ. 8.12.23 by LA