There was once a story about a young dancer, wise in the ways of art and delightfully innocent. This dancer would listen closely to the music of the wind and call for the moment’s attention.
Movement was so distinctive that the trees would laugh with the gracefulness of her offer.
There was a decision to make and it became its own adventure.
The dancer had become mesmerized with the edges of the sounds. To fly off the edge would be an act of exultation – with privacy and glory. To stay invited roots and sharing.
The bear watched and ate huckleberries.