Tag Archives: dancing

Island road

Yesterday, we walked Calum’s Road on Raasay. We also danced at both ends of the road. Calum built the road at the far North of the island over a 10 year period primarily alone. His goal apparently was to turn a wild track into a reasonable road to maintain a community and enable his daughter to get to school. A friend of mine has choreographed a dance to the Capercaillie song about Calum’s amazing feat, and we danced her dance to celebrate her birthday and the work of building the road. For me, and some of the others who danced I think, dancing is a way to keep building community, and smoothing the path we share. it was actually quite moving to dance together. The weather was vile, and the environment was bleak, but it felt great.

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Dancing butterflies

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What you cant see on this picture are the dancing butterflies. I sat in a quiet hidden part of Millhouse Gardens, Richmond North Yorkshire and watched a pair of butterflies chase each other, flirt with each other, and I’m pretty sure: dance.

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Watching swifts under a solstice moon

It’s been a strange Spring and Summer so far. Both Spring and Summer seem to have come together! Everything is growing at once having had such a late start. Tonight it’s the solstice, and the moon is big in a light sky. We’ve been sitting enjoying the smells of the season (whichever it is!) and the sounds of the birds, and seen a few swifts dancing the sky.

So, while everything, in theory, has a season, maybe that season isn’t quite when we think! Some things come late, and run into the back of the next thing. Life isn’t quite as ordered as we hope; but the swifts, even if few in number this year, are still dancing.

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Dancing so as not to be dead

Ray Bradbury died this week. He was a writer who got the living quality of books and the rich meaning of reading and imagining worlds, both good and bad. “Life is trying things to see if they work“. He was also a man who knew about dancing. In the introduction to Illustrated Man (which is called ‘Dancing, So As Not to Be Dead’), Bradbury writes about a conversation with a waiter about dancing and writing – both represent a way to grab at life and a way to resist to the long sleep of death. ‘”I end as I began with my Parisian waiter friend, Laurent, dancing all night, dancing, dancing, dancing“. Here’s to the memory of a man who could write, and dance.

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