I spent this past weekend at a music festival made for dancers.  On Friday night the music is pumping–powerful clean sound vibrates my organs and the earth under my feet.  The energies of prayer, play, and eros spiral around and through a thousand people.  I am danced, sinking low to the ground in spinal undulations.
 
My heart aches.  It aches for my beloved who is not called to this form of prayer.  It aches for each person I dance with, and each person with whom I do not.  I perceive myself as a communal being, danced by others.  I am at my peak when in service to this—it is part of my energetic structure (a projector in human design).  I am a sovereign person too, and in the heartache of opening to my surroundings I remind myself of this.  To reach the communal state I cannot be seeking it directly.  I witness the difference between when I am looking for someone else to fill my energy, versus when I am truly in service to the space and energy between us all.  Friday night I gave myself an assignment:  Every time that I felt myself longing for attention—especially that of a gyrating half-naked woman—I would return to my heart.  I do not beat myself up for feeling longing.  I don’t pathologize myself or layer on a ‘should’.  I just feel my heart.  I am sad in these moments.  But as life does, I am also given some of the dances I seek.  I feel the communion.  Perhaps best of all, I also experience moments in which the masculine and feminine essence come through me simultaneously.  I feel my body at times a man, and allowing it, also at times I am woman.  To do so I must keep letting go again and again, returning both to the sadness and the fulfillment in my heart.  The longing I have for others reveals itself in these moments as necessary fuel for my inner union.  This, I sense, is a key tantric lesson.
 
There is no antidote to the desire and longing to attach.  Sovereignty is not something to be attained, but rather a truth that already is.  I am whole in the space of my skin and my energy.  Attachment, too, is true.  We need each other as communal animals.  I recognize and appreciate your presence; writing this has more meaning for me when you read it.  It is a lot to feel both sovereignty and attachment at the same time, and I am grateful.  My heart, broken, may again fall open.