I am hopeless at dancing, but my sons are too polite to say that. I can do something that resembles a ‘shimmy’, but that’s it. But, I do admire those that dance well.
But, inwardly I do dance. We all do.
Our soul, our spirit dances with the Creator. Soaring like an eagle. The early theologians called this Perichoresis [Pronounced ‘Peri-kor-ee-sis’. Greek for, ‘move, around’]: a dynamism that ‘allows the individuality of the persons to be maintained, while each… shares in the life of the other…’, (Alister McGrath).
It’s a spiritual (Trinitarian) ‘community of being’, which includes us in a wholesome, inner dance of life. We have an inner spiritual life, and the Celts knew this. Something we forget in our ‘modernity’.
I saw you dancing last night on the roof
of your house all alone….
I saw you whirling
beneath the soft bright rose
that hung from an invisible stem in the sky.
So I began to change into my best clothes
in hopes of joining you…
And if you had spun like an immaculate sphere
just two more times,
then bowed again so sweetly to the East,
you would have found God and me
standing so near and lifting you into our arms…
(Hafiz poem, truncated)