Story: a Dance Floor

Take me in your arms as the fiddles are playing and waltz me around the floor.

I came upon this ornament in a Thrift shop. I just had to buy it. It reminded me how much I love dancing.

Let me dream for a while …

Dancing is such a fun thing to do. But …  I remember those scary times when I had to waltz smoothly, gliding across the floor .. and how nervous I felt with a new partner.

… in the warmth of your smile, so I won’t feel alone anymore.

Did you ever waltz? Were you holding on too tightly? Did you stumble over their toes?

Maybe we’ll win or maybe we’ll lose, playing the game of romance.

0r were you sure your partner was thinking of other things … other mice … other tails? We all carry our stories inside us and sometimes, just a little ornament can take us back to those times.

I heard Ed Stivender, a famous US storyteller,  tell stories at the National Storytelling Festival in Tennesse last October. Ed told whimsical, funny stories, spontaneous tales, even biblical tales, and sang and played harmonica as he went along. He led the “Fringe” festival in the Main street at 5 pm on the Saturday.

In a interview earlier that day, I had listened to Ed in an interview as he reflected on his experiences as a storyteller. He talked about his cardinal rule –  ” Give the audience a break from the realities of the world … their worries,  their fears” and he also described what the consequences were for him, when he once broke that rule.

His perspective on a storyteller’s relationship with their audience was compelling.

He believes story is the dance floor … for the dance of the imagination between audience and teller: the whole event can be an occasion of Grace.

But we’ll never find out what Love’s all about- if we don’t join in the dance!

My dancing mice reminds me of Ed the storyteller and of storytelling itself.

You might have noticed they’ve had their tails replaced. Nothing’s perfect. When I found them, they had no tails  … how could they keep their balance without their tails?  So you can see I innovated, and made them new tales.

I think they like them. They’re good enough.

[Photo captions are lyrics from a favourite song, The Maybe Waltz, written by Anne Infante]

All photos and text by Meg Philp

Stories Twigs … ! by Meg Philp is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

First published 2014. Updated 20 March 2016 <a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/dance/”>Dance</a&gt;

Rain Glad

In such a way did the black giant of Tarn Wethelan  find release, and the grim lady of the moor win the White Hawk: and of her he was as glad as grass would be of rain.

A quote from “Tarn Wethlan” in Alan Garner’s Collected Folktales, published in 2010.

        (Read Neil Gaiman’s review at http://www.theguardian.com/books/2011/dec/14/collected-folk-tales-garner-review)

I started this post with the last line of Garner’s version of the Arthurian legend about the marriage of Sir Gawaine and the Lady Ragnal, a tale I tell myself. I am intrigued by this author’s point of view. I have always loved Garner’s voice; this turn of phrase … and of her he was as glad as grass is of rain… made me wonder about rain, how weather effects us all, and why I don’t mention it much in my storytelling …

This legend is set on St Stephen’s-tide, the day after Christmas. I imagined the December weather In Northumberland. Hard frost, hills blanketed in snow, biting wind, icicles on walls,horses snorting and steaming in the cold … all this seems such a dream in the Tropics.  Here, on Boxing Day,  the grass in my yard was parched. It was 40C and baking hot and we were desperate for rain.

…and of her he was as glad as grass is of rain… 

I kept a weather eye open as I worked steadily moving on from room to room inside the house, sweat dripping from me, The crack of a lightning bolt came as a surprise. I looked out,

The weather had turned, the heavens finally opened with a tropical storm full of thunder, flashes of light, cracking close by and the glorious, warm, drenching rain.

What a relief when it rains!

Later, as I wandered in the garden, I wondered  … was she as sweet on him as honeysuckle after rain?

How glad is grass, really, after rain?

Did she luxuriate in the sun and go wild?

What’s left behind after rain? What pondering, playful drops?

Here’s to rain! Happy New Year!  Health, Joy and enough Rain to keep you going and growing!

 

Stories Twigs … by Meg is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.