For a dancer

I took my dog (Jackson) to the river this morning, one of the glorious benefits of living here. It is truly his favorite place, mine, too. This river I grew up in proximity to. I take my friends’ kids to its tidal beach on play dates. I drive deep into the woods to find protected swimming holes along its banks. I bike down the old logging road that runs its length.

The beach at the mouth of the river is expansive at low-tide, often in the morning I’ll have it all to myself. This morning I walked along the bank, pretending to be an amateur tracker, wondering if those are otter prints or if a very small chihuahua was here before us. Jackson is a true only child, one who can entertain himself. When I get in these pondery moods he just sets to work digging and tossing the ball around on his own. He leaves behind massive works of art, sand flung in every direction. To this day I have never seen another dog work at such a scale. He’s my favorite artist.

I try to ignore my phone in the mornings. I’m not saying I’m good at it, just that I try. This means I turn on the radio when we head down to the shoreline (when we drive, sometimes we walk, but since I prefer the river side it’s a bit of a trek). Not the news, I hate the news. It’s never good. Instead the local rock station. Two old guys playing oldies. I can get down with that.

On the way home they introduce an Emmylou Harris and Linda Ronstadt cover of a Jackson Browne song. My mom loved Emmylou Harris and Linda Ronstadt. Most of my memories of are in shades of music: Buffy Saint Marie, Kate Wolf, Bonnie Raitt, The Judds. This is not to mention the hours and days of pop dance/house remixes we listened to as she choreographed aerobics routines throughout the 90s. But at her core she was a Northern California hippy who played the guitar and could get to wailing.

Sometimes there are signs that you’re sure of. Moments that without a doubt hold tell some kind of truth from the beyond. I felt that first when the radio dj announced the Emmylou Harris and Linda Ronstadt song. Thought ‘my mom probably listened to this.’ and that feeling became more sure as I listened to the lyrics.

The song was ‘For A Dancer,’ which I had never heard before. I will leave the lyrics here for you:

Keep the fire burning in your eyes
Pay attention to the open sky
You'll never know what will be coming down

I don't remember losing track of you
You're always dancing in and out of view
I must have thought you would always be around
Always keeping things real by playing the clown
Now you're nowhere to be found

I don't know what happens when people die
Can't seem to grasp it as hard as I try
It's like a song I can hear playing right in my ear
But I can't sing, I can't help listening

I can't help feeling stupid standing around
Crying as they ease you down
'Cause I know that you would rather we'd be dancing

Dancing our sorrow away
No matter what fate throws in your way
Just do the steps that you've been shown
By everyone you've ever known

Until the dance becomes your very own
No matter how close to yours
Another's steps have grown
In the end there is one dance you'll do alone

Keep a fire for the human race
Let your prayers go drifting into space
You'll never know what will be coming down

Perhaps a better world is drawing near
Just as easy it could all disappear
Along with whatever meaning you might have found

Don't let the uncertainty turn you around
Go on and make a joyful sound
Into a dancer you have grown
From a seed somebody else has thrown

Go on ahead and throw some seeds of your own
And somewhere between the time you arrive
The time you go may lie a reason you were alive
But you'll never know

I was home by the time the second verse came on. I don’t remember losing sight of you… and I was crying without knowing yet that the song was about death and loss and grief. About learning to live your own life. About continuing on.

I think about my mom a lot in this town. It’s inevitable. This is where she raised me. This is the place she chose, the landscape she fell in love with first. And a place like this doesn’t change much, these are the same streets she danced down, the same old buildings she knew so well. When I first moved back this realization would bring me to my knees. She was nowhere and everywhere all at once. I didn’t know how to be with this reality. How visceral the layers of history felt and still feel today. But I am more grateful now than I was back then. More able to see us together, still here, me a living, breathing testament to her existence, her dance. And these days she is always everywhere.

I dreamt about her a few nights ago. One of the painful ones where she is frail like in those last few years. I woke up crying. I don’t dream of her often, so when I always wonder why. What is she trying to tell me? What am I supposed to be learning from revisiting the pain of watching her wither away? Why couldn’t it be one of the good dreams, one where she’s full and bright and healthy? The answers are always nebulous balls of meaning making that I can’t, or maybe I just don’t want to hold onto. But this morning she dropped a song in my lap to tell me that its ok. it’s all ok.

Perhaps a better world is drawing near
Just as easy it could all disappear
Along with whatever meaning you might have found

Don't let the uncertainty turn you around
Go on and make a joyful sound
Into a dancer you have grown
From a seed somebody else has thrown

Go on ahead and throw some seeds of your own
And somewhere between the time you arrive
The time you go may lie a reason you were alive
But you'll never know