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The Double Meaning behind the blog title 'Dream Follower:'
First, for 14 years I was a ballroom & social dance instructor, and have studied both leading and following. I feel that learning to follow is full of nuance and is often misunderstood. I made it one of my personal goals to become a really excellent follow on the dance floor, and will probably talk a lot about the art of following - both in and out of the context of dance.

Second, I am a huge fan of author Michael Ende, probably best known for The Neverending Story. The book is incredible, and the first film captured some of the essence. (Please don't watch the other two films...I urge you to read the book though!) Anyway, at least twice in my life I have been caught in a storm of my own indecision, and my inner Moon Princess yelled to my inner Bastian...'Why don't you do what you dream?' I tear up even now as I write this little blurb. The tension between being practical, keeping my feet on the ground and my head out of the clouds (at the risk of compromising my inner vibrancy, true self, and who knows what else)...and reaching for my true dreams (at the risk of losing everything) is still a very real struggle. In fact, one of those struggles lead to my 14 years of teaching dance, so we can see which voice won the battle that fateful day when I was staring at the want-ad...

And so I strive to be two kinds of Dream Followers in my life. One has to do with connecting with others, and the other has to do with connecting with my inner Moon Princess and the world of possibility that opens when I do...

Monday, June 30, 2014

he was smart or lucky

I was in a rage, and he could not be at his house when I was going to get my things. I'm not sure to this day whether his buddy just happened to stop by or if he called him and asked him to be there in his stead, but either way it prevented some serious destruction of property. I gathered up my things, and stripped the bed of its lovely sun-yellow sheets which I had paid for and they had defiled. I might have set them on fire, or gone in the yard and scooped up as much rabbit shit and dumped it on the stripped bed as I could. I was white hot angry when I came across a shirt that could only have belonged to her...and tore it apart with my bare hands. Every present I ever gave him, I suddenly wanted to strip him of and deprive him even though the gesture would never even come close to the betrayal he had dealt me. His friend's presence forced my civility, and though I resented it at the time I suppose I should be grateful that I could not be arrested or brought up on charges or fined or anything. The witness kept me from going ballistic.

1 comment:

  1. Ah, but it would have been so much fun. Sometimes the punishments are worth the crime. ;-)