“When in doubt dance it out.”

Somehow in all this grief I found joy. Sharing art with you has made me whole again. And again.

When we share art we extend a hand. We hold a mirror. We adjust our focus. We hold each other. We weave a collaborative story. Together.

Every day we keep telling the same stories. Over and over. We forget that our endings can be different. So can the plot. I think it’s time for some surprise endings.

It might be time. To do that thing. In fact it has been time for a while.

In this culture of winners and losers. Your trauma is your trauma. This is not a measuring contest of pain.

Tell me to calm down. Go ahead. Tell me I’m crazy. Tell me how it actually works. Try to make me feel small and insignificant. But I see you. For the insecure, power clutching man you are. Good luck. You need it.

I am slowly finding my way back into my skin. Or maybe that’s not it. I am growing into a new skin with knowledge and time.

A year ago everything started to change. I didn’t think I could come out on the other side. The view is fine. I’m fine. Better now.

Without authenticity you are nothing.

It’s possible to be all the parts of you that live in your heart, brain, and body. Not divided into containers. A giant messy wait of authenticity. Where you are all the things. All the time.

When you come calling I’ll answer. But I know I have to keep a piece of my heart just for me.

You are the only one I can truly count on.

I have decided that the key to happiness is strong communication.

I breathe better now. I thought I wouldn’t or couldn’t. But I was wrong. Isn’t that how it is with these things.

No. I can’t pretend that everything is the way it was. Even though that’s what we do- move on like everything is okay.

I cannot face another moment of inauthenticity. Not one more day. Saying no to the things that make me uncomfortable in my skin.

Freedom to a dancer means discipline. That is what technique is for — liberation.

For a long time, I said I didn’t want to model. I was a dancer.

Baptists never make love standing up. They’re afraid someone might see them and think they’re dancing.

Pull me close when the light gives way to dark. Hold me tight until the stars all burn away. Dance with me to the rhythm of our hearts.

Dance is the landscape of man’s soul.

Think of the magic of that foot, comparatively small, upon which your whole weight rests. It’s a miracle, and the dance is a celebration of that miracle.

If God is the DJ, then Life is the dance floor; Love is the rhythm and You are the music.

Wherever a dancer stands is holy ground.