Hi, I'm new in the community.
I'd like to share a passage out of a book written by Anais Nin in 1932, called "The House of Incest". At the end of this very small book she describes a scene with a dancer first living in tightness and distortion, then surrendered to the flow. I find it beautiful and it explains so much.

"We all looked now at the dancer who stood at the centre of the room dancing the dance of the woman without arms. She danced as if she were deaf and could not follow the rhythm of the music. She danced as if she could not hear the sound of her castanets. Her dancing was isolated and seperated from music and from us and from the room and from life. The castanets sounded like steps of a ghost.
She danced, laughing and sighing and breathing all for herself. She danced her fears, stopping in the centre of every dance to listen to reproaches that we could not hear, or bowing to applause that we did not make. She was listening to a music we could not hear, moved by hallucinations we could not see.
My arms were taken away from me, she sang. I was punished for clinging. I clung. I clutched all those I loved; I clutched at the lovely moments of life; my hands closed upon every full hour. My arms were always tight and craving to embrace. I wanted to embrace and hold the light, the wind, the sun, the night, the whole world. I wanted to caress, to heal, to rock, to lull, to surround, to encompass. And I strained and I held so much that they broke; they broke away from me. Everything eluded me then. I was condemned not to hold.
Trembling and shaking she stood looking at her arms now stretched before her again.
She looked at her hands tightly closed and opened them slowly, opened them completely like Christ; she opened them in a gesture of abandon and giving; she relinquished and forgave, opening her arms and her hands, permitting all things to flow away and beyond her.
I could not bear the passing of things. All flowing, all passing, all movement choked me with anguish.
And she danced; she danced with the music and with the rhythm of earth's circles; she turned with the earth turning, like a disk, turning all faces to light and to darkness evenly, dancing towards daylight."

Namaste,
Helen