Empowering and teaching others to live life intuitively by remembering who we are, blending intuition with common sense, and coming from that place at all times ~ in all that we do...

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

The Dance of Life

When I was five, my Grandpa fell ill. I remember being dressed up in my ballet clothes and told to dance for him, so it would make him better. He died not long afterwards. I went on to train professionally as a Ballet dancer, there was nothing else in the world I could conceive of doing. I worked insanely for a couple of years, was accepted into the London College of Dance and Drama, but had to give it all up when I contracted an extreme case of Mononucleosis. In my mid-forties I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue and Fibromyalgia, which studies now show can stem from unresolved Mono.

Seeking refuge for my health, I moved to Gabriola Island in the fall of 2004. In the quiet of winter I finally heard what my body had been desperately trying to tell me for a very long while ~
to take care of myself and to allow myself to heal. I knew inherently that would happen through creativity. Too tired to write, or paint, and not well enough at that time to work as an Intuitive, I returned to my one constant throughout the years…fabric art.

I began to make a figure from an old top made from stretch velour, and stuffing it with the contents of a plush toy. I started to embroider on the figure, no clear design in mind, simply following the needle. I added beads in the same way, improvising as I went along, letting images unfold. A joyous figure emerged. She remains today, still unfinished, much like her maker.
Different shapes came to me. I would barely complete one before another would ask to be born, As the figures began to emerge, each and every one of them was dancing…
My landlady dropped by one day and raved over the figures, ordering two immediately: "You should put these in Artworks for sale!" I hugely resisted. Hadn't I given enough of myself? This was for me, for my own healing. I needed to take care of myself now. Yet I kept making these dancing figures. I'd sit up in bed or on the sofa and meditatively keep on stitching… Soon there were over forty of them in various stages of being.
One evening I was talking to a wise and dear friend back in Calgary, who is also an incredible Intuitive. This is what she said: "Every stitch that you make in these figures will help you to heal, and each and every one of these figures that go out to others will carry healing for them. You don't have to do anything. Just keep taking care of yourself. The rest will be taken care of." I had been devastated that I was not able to do my intuitive work for the time being, and yet, somehow, the work was still being done through me.
Caught up in this dance was the spirit of friends and strangers alike ~ clothing was kept aside at our local recycling store, friends from near and far sent packages of threads, beads, charms, and yarn scraps, neighbours unearthed old earrings, my mother sent broken jewellery pieces collected from her charity shop in Ireland, people at get-togethers raided their closets, and a wonderful graphic artist friend designed my labels.
Everything I used was either recycled or donated…

For over three years I made these figures. At first they were soft and gentle, and occasionally a message would come to me as I stitched them. "Heart wide open, she danced into another day" was one.
Dancing in the waves, she knew the tide had turned" another. These messages were pertinent to the design that was emerging on the figure, but not so much as to the person who finally bought the doll.
It has been a few years now since I made the last dancing spirit. I still have some in various stages of incompletion. I don't know if I will make them again. What I do know is that they helped me heal in countless ways. And I know they took with them something I may not ever be able to explain or understand, but was honoured and cherished by those who received them.
Inside each and every one of us
there is a
Wild Spirit...Dancing