I danced in the woodlands the other day.
To some, I may have looked like a mad woman conjuring a spell from my limbs.
To others, I may have looked like an expression of beauty.
It was a ritual walk that started out just the same way as every mindful walk does.
My feet set off in a direction that I don’t consciously choose.
I walk and breathe and move and walk until I find the spot.
The spot is different every single time. Sometimes its by the water. Sometimes iit'shigh on the moors. But this time, it was a clearing deep in the forest near Hardcastle Craggs.
A circle of trees invited me to step in and join them.
Like a standing stone of sisters, waiting for me to complete the chain.
I did just that. Planted my Doc Marten feet firmly on the earth. Rooted in. Turned my face and palms towards the sun & photosynthesised for a bit.
My hat was the colour of the golden morning sun, jumper reflected the ferns & boots brown as the mulchy earth.
I was part of the woods.
After a moment... or a minute... or maybe 5 - my shoulders moved.
My arms hovered as if caught in the breeze.
And then my fingers traced the awareness of the branches above my head.
As I moved I watched the sun and the shadows catch on my body. Ghostly, fleeting imprints. Shadow tattoos. Impressions that shimmered momentarily.
I folded in on myself, tuned my perspective upside down, just to capture the view from a new angle. The trees rooted to the sky as my crown came down to earth.
I allowed my soft being of my body to do what it loves, what it needed, what it craved.
Twisting and wringing out the grief.
Wriggling out the sadness.
Breathing in the goodness.
Soaking in the lightness.
When the moment had moved through me, I took a seat in a sunbeam. Palms shining to the ground, as if feeling the earth for a frequency.
Eyes observing the lichen and moss.
Now, we have become a little more aquatinted, I’ll let you in on a secret.
I’m a shapshiting woman - from deer to tree to air.
Come, shapeshifter, dance with me.
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