Do you ever have those days, where life pulls the rug out from under you?

And you go WTF and at the same time, I hope there’s a cosmic plan in place here (kind of like an insurance policy with huge post-disaster payouts).

I had a day like that recently.

Yet, in the distress aftermath I spent a few mornings reading The Return of the Mother by Andrew Harvey and then saturating in the gorgeous melody of written truth. The memory of synchrony. The knowing that life is, even in apparent chaos, orchestrating a symphony of perfection.

I love this part, in Harvey’s book, about 19th century mystic teacher Ramakrishna:

He danced, intoxicated with Divine Love. Many times he went into Samadhi. He stood still, his eyes fixed, his face beaming, with one hand on the shoulder of a beloved disciple. Coming down a little, from the state of ecstasy, he danced again like a mad elephant, regaining consciousness of the outer world, he improvised lines to the music.

Yes, I am a chorus girl.

I want to imagine I am the rock star when I am simply, and perhaps beautifully, the dancer moving to the notes life plays for me. The dance of surrender is my only option.

Enjoy this glorious reminder of muse-inspired movement, synchronized and fluid, riotous in its near perfection. Urban Dance Camp artists Keone & Mariel Madrid, moving to Dangerous by Michael Jackson.