Thursday, July 28, 2011

Henrietta (The Dancing Spirit)

Once in a while, I leave class and think, "That was a perfect class,"
and that feeling lasts with me the rest of the day, and it's the happiest
thing. Last Thursday and today were both that kind of a class. Nothing big happened, it’s just the group morale, the respect, the ease.

Quiet writing time was quiet. Even when a new or regular member walked in late, other members were able to welcome them with hugs and kisses, then continue to focus on their writing. Detailed soul-baring stories were written and shared out loud. And afterwards, we lingered, took pictures, socialized, snacked. Everything just clicked.

In 2 years our class has not only grown exponentially in size, but also exponentially in depth, into something very emotionally complex. Every half a year or so, I’d feel something like an actual emotional growth spurt that takes the whole room with it. It’s hard to describe. Something about the vibe in the room. The past two weeks have definitely felt like that. One of the moments that moved me was when Henrietta read this poem out loud.

Henrietta Faust
The Dancing Spirit

Suddenly, one day, there it was: a dancing spirit.
It’s as if I can taste it!
It’s a moving to any beat!
The dancing spirit laid dormant, then surfaced
“like a stalking, old boyfriend popping up again.”
And there it was the one dancing spirit again.
It could do the bob and weave to the beat.
And there it goes moving of feet.
To the boogie-beat.
Sounding like a washed up and out fraudulent rap beat!
Aaah!  I needed that.  Gotcha!
Hand me my walking stick.
Hand me down my hat. 
My dancing spirit is back!  And I just got it back!
Thank you dancing spirit.
And see who is verbally nailed.
You can hear it.