Iko Iko

I am wandering through my mental forest. I know the terrain -- where the rocks lie, where the good climbing trees are, where the stillness and quiet can be found.   It's a comfortable and familiar place.

Sometimes, though, there are shadows -- an ottoman-shaped log, a birdcall reminiscent of an infant's cry -- and I need to stop and catch my breath.  Other times, I look around and recognize that certain regions are no longer accessible:  the natural erosion of our forest over time has nestled boulders across trails, and the streams have slowly altered the riverbeds. I know better than to try to walk those places again, yet I feel ever so slightly sad when I recall the mosses and the flowers that I once enjoyed there.

There are changes on the horizon. There is always potential for change, certainly, but right now, I see more clearly than before how the trees are bending with the winds.  Even when the changes may be quite positive, I am still uncertain.  I try to parse the nebulous shapes in the mists, but my viewpoint is clouded by hopes and fears and desires.  All I can do is wait and see what transpires.

So I wait.

What to do to keep myself from fretting and flailing?  I dance.

Today, I dance to Iko Iko -- a simple, short, flirty and festive song, traditional for Mardi Gras. It's a perfect escape for three minutes.  Sometimes, three minutes at a time is how I move through the forest.