Diving Deep and Dancing: a poem by Annette Dunklin

"In a single moment, if we are aware of things as they are, rather than projecting how they should be, that is grace, beauty.  In a single moment, and in every moment, it's possible to not know how things should be, to not measure or judge things."  (Interview with Gina Sharp, this month's Parabola)

My practice at Body Balance has given me the gift of landing in these single moments, finding myself there, feeling deep gratitude when I do. 

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Diving Deep and Dancing
(A response to Chapter 21, Tao Te Ching)

Annette Dunklin, November 2010

Inner spaces, outer forms
emptiness and fullness,
living cycles of grief and joy,
loss and abundance,
now continual practice,
connecting sources of renewal
to the dance that is my life.

Water. 

Diving deep in California rivers:
Twenty three years now, the Yuba my home.
One day greeted by Kingfisher,
flies back and forth where Rock Creek flows in.
Deep and narrow canyon, dry green moss and sheer rock cliff,
just before first heavy rain.
Dippers do their dance,
bathing or bowing?
Their exuberant calls ring up and downstream
Far below the surface, eight inch crawdad scuttles into deep cave
Crustacean Elder.

Blue Creek and Klamath,
Yurok healing confluence:
silent underwater vistas, Cut-throat and Steelhead
race with and against the current.
Bald Eagle pair overhead, one lands
as the other flies.
Cormorants arguing in Redwood Tree
Osprey following watercourse,
way up high.
River flowing,
continually changing
Water sound redemption

Early morning on Deer Creek beach at Dipper Camp
no sun yet on rocks, moss, ferns, trees,
bending down to wash my hands,
I hear the unfamiliar sound of muffled snorting.
My eyes drawn to moving dark creek waters
find one smooth shape swimming
fluid and fast,
dark eyes in small round head find me
She dives down, up again.
Sound has linked to source:

Otter.  Color of creek.
swims upstream and circles back.
one head becomes two, snuffling, swimming,
snorting wet exhales.
two of them play among branches
thrown and gathered by water's force onto
opposite bank,
Slick and wet, they curl around each other, 
bob up and down.

One more small face, whiskered and brown,
and another, three babies and mama.
Circling, diving, clambering up steep mossy granite
rolling, scratching, returning to water, gathering,
pile of four upon small rock,
directly across,
staring like small children at me.

I begin Tai Chi,
the best I can offer
in response to their play. 
They come closer, surfacing and diving
leaving bubbles to rise.
What is this creature in
pink polar fleece?

The ancient form finds home in my belly 
links with days past and
days to come, peace in body,
connected to earth and open to sky.
weaving moment to precious moment.

Then they are gone,
leaving my heart open and full
settled with moving water and solid stone

At home, Chi Gong  and Tai Chi before dawn
under tall Tulip Poplar in the front yard.
Even the birds are asleep,
as I gather deep peace into my body
for the coming day.

The dance of the life I live now
this family and home
born into the longing of empty space
now taken form.