A spontaneous moment…

My friend and belly dance student Maria, who also has a blog, sometimes wants to write about the same things I do about what happens on Wednesday nights at dance class. She was going to take a photo of the mysterious shoe, then saw I already wrote about it.

Last Wednesday, we had such an incredible, spontaneous moment just before our zilling drill practice that left everyone like, “wow, where did that come from?” Maria beat me to writing about that moment, so rather than rewrite the event; she tells the story brilliantly. 

You must read her post before you continue reading mine. The link to her blog post, “He had it coming.”

While discussing positive self-image, I thought about how much “hate talking” I do to myself about not having a size six body anymore. It’s still a hurdle to overcome and a big one for me, but I accept it more each day.

When Maria spoke up and told everyone about her father calling her mother every day and asking if she did her sit-ups, I stopped looking for a zilling song and said with lots of drama, “some guys just can’t hold their arsenic!”

That’s when Kathleen and I started singing the song “He had it coming” from the Broadway show Chicago. While driving home that night, I was smiling because it was such a great moment and interaction between Kathleen and me. 

Many years ago, before my mother had her stroke, my belly dance group was having our annual fundraiser, a belly dance show with not only all of us but many other dancers from VT and other nearby states. 

I asked my mother if she was coming to the show, I knew the answer would be no, but I always invited her anyway. 

The few times she did come to gigs in Bennington over the years, she came and slept through one set and left. She never came to watch me cheer at games and only came to the first night of our senior play, while almost everyone else’s parents came all three nights. It was as if she had lost all interest in me and the things I was good at.

When I was little, before she started treating me like Cinderella when I was nine, she would be excited to get me into my two costumes and do my hair and makeup for my dance recitals.

I took solo dance lessons and performed solo as well. She strutted around like a proud peacock after the recitals and always had a bouquet of flowers for me.

Back to that belly dance show, my mother walked in ten minutes before the show started. She walked up to the circle of dancers I was chatting with. 

I said, “Oh good, you changed your mind!” She replied, “No, I’m going to bingo next door and wanted to see what you looked like.” Disappointed, I said, “Oh, okay.”

Before she left, she told me, “By the way, you should wear that color lipstick more often; it doesn’t make your teeth look so yellow.” I thought,” lady, you are such a bitch! Are you even fucking kidding me right now?”

She said goodbye, turned on her heel and walked next door to bingo. I was furious and embarrassed she said this in front of my fellow dancers.

I said something like, “I can’t fucking believe she just said that! Oh, wait, yea, I can.” It was perfect timing for her to get a jab in since the show started in five minutes. 

I had five minutes to get my shit together before turning into a Sahidi Sister and dancing, the show’s opening. Then I had to turn into DJ Julz since I ran the music for the show and kept everything on schedule.

That’s my relationship in a nutshell with my mother. The moment was so awkward for everyone in the circle, and it affected my dance sisters about to perform with me. It is a painful memory for me and still makes me enraged.

When I thought about how angry my mother made me that night after reading Maria’s blog, I sang the Cell Block Tango song again but dedicated it to my mother.

“Some women just can’t hold their arsenic! She had it coming; she had it coming, she only had herself to blame. If you’d a been there, if you’d have seen it, I’m sure you would have done the same.”

When I read Maria’s blog post, when I got to the part about Kathleen and me standing next to a cauldron, I instantly had a soul memory from a past life with Kathleen; when we were, are you ready for it? Witches.

I mentioned in my series, “My gifts,” I was a witch in many lifetimes and promised I wouldn’t be in this lifetime. I also knew Kathleen and I had been together before in other lifetimes; I just didn’t know when, where, or what. Now I know one time, at least.

Because of Maria’s blog post, I immediately knew she was with Kathleen and me in that lifetime since what she saw was a soul memory watching us. Interestingly, all the people we have meaningful relationships with, good or bad, are part of our soul cluster.

We keep coming back with our soul cluster members lifetime after lifetime, helping each other learn our soul’s lessons. Some people are there to test us and try to make us fail, some hurt us because we deserve it from a lesson we didn’t learn, some push us along, and others help us succeed with our lesson.

A few weeks ago, during a journey, a beautiful female spirit guide told me I was here to help my mother succeed in a lesson, but we all know how that ended. I told her, “that’s too bad since I was hurt and abused for nothing then.” She immediately told me, “it was a business contract and not to take it personally.” Easier said than done, beautiful spirit guide.

I sent Maria’s blog post to Kathleen, and when we spoke on the phone, she thanked me for sending it. After I told her about being witches together a very long time ago, she laughed. We kidded that the next time someone asks us how long we know each other, we can legitimately say for centuries! Lol.

Thanks, Maria, for your blog post; it had a much more significant impact on me than I thought when I first started reading it. I told Maria a while back I want to dance with her around a bonfire, which she and Jon always have during the full moon; now I know we probably have before!