Free Fallin'

So here's what happened this evening.

I went to the home of a couple, long time students of mine, to give them a private dance lesson before they left town for a wedding. They're just breaking speed in West Coast Swing, their fourth dance.

We were coming to the end of the lesson and I was explaining how at the wedding they will likely be able to fit WCS into much of the music. As an example of how to use the music to create the dance, I played Free Fallin', the Tom Petty cover by John Mayer.

Oh how the dance angels descended upon this pair! It was magical. Lost was the concentration on left or right, or 1, 2, 3 & 4. They danced. They melted into the music, they moved as one, the room became quite small.

It was an emotional moment I don't think any of us saw coming.

I remember my time at the Damn the Torpedoes concert as a 15 year old. And with that same appreciative but more wise heart, I shall remember my time feeling Tom Petty free fallin' into eternal grace.

Thank you J & R.

Counting on Others

On a whim this evening, I got together with my friend Kim for a delicious Thai dinner at Noi downtown.  As everything is connected, I ask myself, "Was the food so delicious because the conversation was rich and enjoyable?"  Or "Was the diversity and honesty of the conversation born out of fresh, creative food?  To spend too much time inserting the experience into a logical calculation seems to detract from the beauty and simplicity of friendship and sharing.

One topic led to acknowledging the responsibility of having a ranch full of animals dependent upon me.    I make certain choices or pass on certain indulgences because I always want to be on the top of my game should there be something out of the ordinary with the animals.  Ordinary?  Well...

When I got back home it was just after dusk.  I changed from my "dining out" clothes to my "how many times can my jeans be licked, smudged, wiped upon, muddied up or covered in hay" clothes and set out to complete my evening chores.

First on the list, lock in the hens.  The big girls know to go home at dusk and they each have their own spot that they prefer.  The chicklets are still sorting out their place in the pecking order.  Cinnamon was perched up on the top wire of the 5' no climb fence, as she has taken to doing.  Ginger had decided to sink down into a nesting box, although a gender check is in order with this little one.  But where was Spice?

My small flashlight was not sufficient for looking for a reddish/brown hen in the dark.  Back to the house I went and came out armed with my mag light.  I have learned from a previously missing hen to start looking in the surrounding trees.  I did, and there she was, about 5 1/2 feet up in a tree.  She's a very sweet hen and she likes, as I interpret it, to be cuddled.  I gathered her up, wrapped my arms around her, stroked her maturing feathers and brought her inside to join the rest of the flock.  All ten accounted for.  All ten locked in for the night.

Yes, a big thank you to Archangel Ariel, the protector of animals, was in order.  It's a lot of work to care for all of these animals and each of them has moved deep into my heart.  My dedication to them is all about love, both giving and receiving love.  It's a great weight and knowing someone else is looking over my precious charges gives me comfort and relief.