The Dancing Master
Our lives are overflowing with The Void. You know the void. The big hole you feel inside. Sometimes it has hurt so much you can barely move. Usually it is a dull and throbbing pain. The background noise of most lives. We do everything we can to fill the Void. We even have a handy word for it: avoidance, to avoid the emptiness. A –void –dance. We develop the most elaborate dances you can imagine – never realizing – that it is all a-void –dance. That if we could but taste fullness a moment – the empty dances of addiction, power, violence and abusive sex would be transformed into the erotic dance of being. The dance with the Goddess Divine, whom the Hebrew mystics called the Shehina. The dance in which we all have a place.
The mystics teach us that to access the erotics of being – the fullness of ourselves in every moment – we need to first stay in the emptiness for a while. To resist filling up the emptiness with quick hits of pseudo eros. This is the secret of dance. Dance me to the end of love.
Gafni sums it all up:
"We run desperately looking for the next watering hole which might fill up the gaping fissure we feel so deeply and try so hard to hide."
Since I believe this is the likely zenith of his blogging syntax, my soul is at rest and you’ll hear no more about Gafni from me (at least until tomorrow).
Hey, baby, can I fill your gaping fissure with my desperate watering hole?