This entry is a response to my challenge from another writer, which takes place weekly in the Indie Ink Challenge.
“The dance is the voice of your people, and on your steps, your movements, your attention to traditional forms you are the emissary of everyone watching you. The personal fierceness you give to your dance is the hope of the People. It is your eternal view for you are the medium of earth to sky. You are the song which every living thing sings, whether plant or animal, human or microbe: the sunlight, the air, the earth beneath your feet and the sparkling darkness through which the planet spins.
It’s time now. The People are gathering. They move in groups or individuals, some with purpose, others who are lacksidaisical, laughing as they go. The drummers surround their drums, clearing their throats, take sips of water waiting for that special anticipation to crest. The listeners take their places, expectant, ready to give voice when required, or lift up their thoughts, exude their love, joy and oneness with the world upon request. They’ve been waiting.
It’s a relief, something which has been looked forward to for weeks, to share this depth of fellowship. Every breath of those surrounding you echoes in your ear; the mantras softly falling from their lips, or the soft prayers or wishes. You close your eyes, tilting your head back, and drink in their warmth and energy.
Your regalia is heavy for it’s made of sturdy cloth, tunic and skirt, belted strongly with leather, but it’s the bells that bring the real weight. There are 365 of them, one for every day of the year. A prayer for each day of the year. At the first deep boom of the drum, the dance begins, and the bass sounds are laced with the bright counterpoint of etched metal. With every leap, you’re as light as air, and as you rise, you lift the spirits of the People to heaven.”