The Gospel of House.

And on the 8th day God created House

Music  generated by inspired bodies that brought forth

rhythm, beats, and voices that did not sing about freedom

but that were FREEDOM.

Unbound these voices disintegrated shackles to dust for feet to

STOMP, slide and shuffle across dance floors in dimly lit santuaries

that earthlings called “clubs” but  which the liberated ones called

Gateways, portals, to a land beyond the one that would render their being

imperfect.

Here they are GODS moving in time to the Voice

Stepping, shuffling, jirating to a rhythm that origins surpass that of time.

Writhing in ecstasy to a force beyond their control

The heart beat.

That

thump-thump-thump-thumpthumpthump-thumpthump

The souls became one exploding with applause of gratitude

For the gifts of the sanctuary.

The sweat. The aliveness. A high not available on this plane.

It fueled their movements, fired their souls, and united them ––

Under the Gospel of House.

Thou shalt not settle for the petty limitations placed upon thee by petty muthaphuckas.

Thou shalt jump, shout, kick, scream, and MOVE, like there is no tomorrow because there might not be one.

Thou shalt dance away the pain, the stress, the fear, the turbulence of everyday life … because there is nothing a good soul clap and bunny hop can’t cure!

One Love. One God. One Sky. One Day. One Life. Let’s live it!*

Rosie.

*(just make sure you have ibuprofen and an ice pack in the freezer for when you get home ; )  )

House in the Park in Atlanta was a spiritual experience.  Here’s
a tiny peak B).

Oh and if Alvin Ailey is ever in your burg, it is strongly suggested that you see this piece live.

Better than Ripley’s

3:30 am Amelié’s french bakery.

After another successful evening of dancing and general enjoyment of one another’s  company, my friend’s and I headed to Amelié’s as we often do. While checking out my sundry sweets, I looked up at the young man behind the counter and saw it. “It” was a chain that I had purchased at the Goodwill on South Boulevard about two years ago. The chain itself was simple with a fairly ornate silver cross on it that on the back said “I’m a Catholic call a priest.” I’d lost “it” and been had been half way hoping to find it after I made a more sincere effort to clean my bedroom than I normally do. There it was though, around the neck of another. But wait…let me back up.

19 years ago:

On Mother’s day in 1992 at 16 years of age, I became very ill due to an allergic reaction and was given last rites. My family was told to prepare for my imminent death. Needless to say, I’m still here. When I ran across the chain in Goodwill, I was going through some pretty tough growing pains. The chain reminded me that no matter what, something bigger than me loves me and want whats best for me. So after purchasing the chain, I almost never took it off. That is until about two weeks ago. I took it off, slipped it into my pocket, and never saw it again. Fast forward to early this morning…

3:35 am Amelié’s French Bakery

I told my story to the counter person. He reluctantly offered me the chain back. His apprehension made me know that it had now become his something to hold on to. I knew right away that the chain was no longer mine. I told him I had no intentions of taking it back, and the story of my near death experience. His eyes became wide as saucers. He then shared with me the near death experience he had at age 16 (which was clearly not as long ago as 16 was for me!) I was overwhelmed to say the least. Something huge had just happened, and I was standing in it just then, and I felt honored and grateful for it.

Pro/Epilogue: Thursday July 21, 2011 9:48 am

I’d seen a patient, mainly just to give some reassurance about her therapy, and was about to exit her home when I was struck by this gorgeous statue near her front door. She explained that it was Kwan Yin (a bohisattva) a goddess of compassion. Seeing how awestruck I was (and I truly was, for what reason I still don’t understand); she excused herself. She was only gone a moment when she returned with a small bronze statuette of the very same goddess and handed it to me. “Take her with you, she’ll comfort you when you’re afraid.” I took it, thanked her and exited…dumbfounded by her kindness and generosity.

I cannot pretend to understand the power that governs these occurrences. It would be futile to try to put words to something so unattainable. So I won’t try. I and all my agnostic tendencies have come to believe that faith is far simpler than we make it. We have faith that every morning we’re going to go out and our cars are going to start, our day is going to go as usual, and we are going to see our loved ones at the end of the day, none of which is guaranteed. So why not have faith that the people and things that you need find you when you need them most and when it’s time to let these people or things go it’s truly for the best. Basic shit right? We just make it rocket science.

I write this in gratitude for all the minor and major miracles that have happened in my life, AND my ability to see them for what they are.

Selah.

Rosie.