|painting via www.fineartamerica by silas toball|
There were nuts and fruit and bread dipped in honey and everything set as a feast not only for the appetite but for the eyes as well. Mirrors caught the candlelight, music softened the air still more, and the bells, oh the bells, they kept tinkling as she danced.
“See that man over there?” whispered Tia.
“The one with the beard?”
Tia nodded, then sipped her wine. “See his eyes? See how they protrude a bit? See how his eyes set him apart from the other men around him?”
Isabella cocked her head ever so slightly, taking it all in. “Why is that?”
“He feels unsafe most of the time. He must watch carefully to protect himself, to protect his feelings and his spirit … more so than his body. If he felt unsafe in his body, his soul would reflect that in different ways. He would stand tighter with his shoulders higher or his hands clasped in fists. But he doesn’t. Do you see that? His body is loose.”
“So why does he feel unsafe? Did something happen to him or was he born that way?”
“You can take the time to uncover the ‘why’s’ or you can just gently, lovingly meet him where he is. Either way, you free him if you speak to him in the language of his soul.”
Isabella took a sip of her wine, letting her eyes wander with a little more confidence. “What about that man over there?”
“The one with the leather boots on? Yes. I see him. But what do you see?” Tia brushed a few dark curls from her eyes, her fingers laden with rings.
“I see his soul speaking through his neck.”
“His neck?” Tia was intrigued.
“His truth gets stuck. Not because he doesn’t know what his truth is but because he struggles to voice it.”
“So he is not heard?”
“The lines on his neck, the creases that cross his skin like rivers, they tell me he longs to be heard but does not let himself speak. Not enough.”
“So when you meet him?”
“I will invite him to tell me his story. I will beg to listen to the melody of his voice and I will show him how beautiful that voice is.”
“And you will free him.” Tia smiled. Knowingly. “Because you know how listen to the voice of the soul. You know how to see. And that seeing will only grow with time, Isabella. Like a fine wine, your gift will continue to grow in quality and depth.”
Isabella smiled a soft smile, feeling wisdom infuse her being. “And me?”
“What of you, my dear?”
“What do you see when you see me, dear Tia?”
“Why not try seeing yourself? What does your soul say to those of us who see you, lovely Isabella? Pray tell, my dear.”
Isabella set her wine glass on the table and closed her eyes. She let the music seduce her, she let it seep into her skin, soaking her to her core, moving her, rhythmically, to its entrancing sounds. Eyes still closed, she slipped off her shoes. She raised her arms to her waist, let her fingers play the air, and without another thought, began to bring her body alive. It was a gentle sway at first, beginning with her hips and emanating from her elbows to her wrists, to her fingertips. Then it moved up to her stomach, to her breasts, to her shoulders, neck and head, and down through her legs, to her ankles and her tiny boned feet. She let her body speak. Because it felt invited to, because it felt safe to, and because she knew it must. Isabella's soul needed to be heard.
Tia watched in admiration. Isabella was even more graceful, elegant, beautiful than she realized. She was unlike any other woman Tia had ever met. Free. In nearly every way. And it appeared the rest of the room thought so too, with all eyes taken by her unusual freedom, her exotic sensuality. Whispers began to spread like virus and soon the house went hush. Ears tickled, bodies awakened, and Tia’s breath caught in her chest as she watched Isabella sway with the spirit of an enchanted butterfly.
“Who is she?” whispered one to another, not knowing he had spoken loud enough for many to hear.
“La Mariposa,” said Tia without thinking, matching the mesmerized tone of his inquiry. “The butterfly of Venice.”
* * *
Awaken your body. Enliven your skin. Set your spirit free. Let the voice of your soul sing. Through your body. With feeling, with sensuality, with an expression that only you have and only your body can share.
We live in a mind-centered world
And forget that our bodies speak
Without the mind
with the voice of our souls.
What does your body say? What messages are you sharing with the world? What if your body were to say, ‘I am alive. I am beautiful. I love being me!’ How would that look? How would those feelings manifest themselves? Why not try it and see?