Breaking the Spell

So much feels broken. But when I am dancing and moving with others I feel we can defy the laws written and unwritten that bind and break us. I take a breath plunge headlong into the dance and come up gasping for air and the sheer audacity of my mobile limbs. Nick Cave suggests all our lives are dangerous we just live for a-while thinking we are in control.  He knows now with certainty that we don’t. Living is dangerous and the dance we are in takes us off balance all the time. I am falling and flailing. My knee might give way at any moment. Crash and I fall to earth. In the early morning darkness I practice patience. I can’t move quickly – it is a delicate moment when my feet first reach for the ground and I transfer my weight onto them. A hovering moment of uncertainty. My knee is giving me grief – a shredded menisci and other stray broken bits. I look forward to the pain being alleviated. I am also certain that it requires a shift in my awareness of what I can and want to do now. I am moving towards an older age where mobility is not taken for granted. The loss of walking is acute for me. I have kept myself going through walking – one foot after the other. I am housebound with this. I want to walk freely again. My son who knows this is not a given, reminds me of who I share the world with – those for whom walking is not an assumption. This reminds me of loving and living without assumption; without privilege; without entitlement. Last week Australia sent a clear message to an out-of-date patriarchal stance based on entitlement and privilege. I am breathing easier.  The spell has been broken.