There would be no dance,
And there is only the dance.
I often find my stillpoint, my chance to reconnect with quiet and beauty, by the ocean. Things in my life begin to unravel and I find that I'm drawn there, to some favored cove or quiet bayside beach where I'm able to check-in with myself again. It's not anything that I do consciously, exactly, but rather something that I find has changed in me after some time alone with my thoughts and the company of nature.
A funny thing, really, that projecting my experience outward, toward noticing the soft lullaby of the waves lapping at the sand or the dancing flight of terns, would bring me closer to the clarity of what I need to know, but that seems to be the way of stillness and contentment. A quiet sort of magic.