My feet are touching the ground. Again and again. Stomping, sliding, full of joy and full of sorrow. My grief has not fully left me, yet. I feel myself vibrating with the music. I can also feel the other dancers‘ energy around me. Finally, I settle into my movement and rhythm…

I am writing this while travelling to a weekend dance workshop. I have this idea of what it will feel like to be there, moving, experiencing myself.

Do I worry that it won’t be like this? No. I am certain whatever is going to surface within me is just right.

I also brought a warm blanket. Just in case that all I can do is lay down.