The other day, I pulled on my polka dot tights and black dance shoes before heading to the market. Now if you had a look at these shoes, you wouldn’t think much of them, because except for a gradual heel and a feminine curve to the toe, they are pretty plain.
On the other hand, if you were to don a pair yourself in your own size, you’d more likely get why I’m so smitten with them, and why I want to wear them around the market and do a little spin around the apples and the pears. It’s the way they make me feel so light as I glide through this world. It’s the way they make me feel like no matter what happens, I am going to be okay.
But what really happened when I pulled on my black dance shoes that day is that I spontaneously wept. I looked at my little feet in those shoes, and felt an enormous compassion for myself and the miles I’d traveled in this human experience of challenge and bliss, and I loved myself.
I don’t know about you, but the pure emotion of deep self-compassion is a rare experience for me. The feeling of gentleness and gratitude, acceptance and allowance for my own humanity, is precious and holy and requires no artifice or contrived affirmation. It it a gift that arises naturally, most often when I’m not thinking of myself at all.
Now the market dancing was fun, but there isn’t a pair of shoes in the world that can make us feel grounded and at ease in our soul. Nothing on the outside ever will. The good news is that it doesn’t cost a penny to be whole, have peace, and feel love, because such gifts are our birthright. Our natural state of being and how we are made.
What I’ve found to be true is that when we look away from our story about ourselves long enough, and keep our eye single to the glory of our source, divine intelligence, or God, we will rest and rise in that space where miracles happen. Where glancing at our worn little feet reminds us of the molecules of love from which we are made, and encourages us to glide forward with grace.
We all have dancing shoes in the closet of our soul. And we are all meant to float much more often than we do.
Sashay away, my dancing friends. Glissade and adieu.