Don't tell me how wonderful things will be . . . someday. Show me you can risk being completely at
peace, truly okay with the way things are right now in this moment, and again in the next and the next
and the next . . . Welcome to The Dance, where bestselling author Oriah expands on the journey begun
in The Invitation and reveals how to let go and enjoy the dance of life. Unlike countless self-help books
that tell us how and what we need to change to become happy, The Dance is an invitation to embrace our
true selves. To dance, alone or with others, is to slow down and realize that who we are is enough. Once
we stop striving to be someone else, we will be able to live with passion, energy, and honesty -- and truly
experience the dance.
I have sent you my invitation,
the note inscribed on the palm of my hand by the fire of living.
Don't jump up and shout, "Yes, this is what I want! Let's do it!"
Just stand up quietly and dance with me.The advantage of the written word is that I can tell you here near
the beginning what was only revealed to me near the end: I write these words to name myself — to name
each of us — worthy of going home, worthy of having our longing met, worthy of awakening in the arms of
the Beloved. Finding and voicing our soul's longing is not enough. Our ability to live in a way that is
consistent with our longing — our ability to dance — is dependent upon what we believe we must do. If
our intention is to change who we essentially are, we will fail. If our intention is to become who we
essentially are, we cannot help but live true to the deepest longings of our soul.It is a shining autumn
day, the kind of day when the blue of the sky startles you into believing that all things are possible. I'm
standing in the quad, a tree-filled green space between the old stone buildings of St. Michael's College at
the University of Toronto. But I am not aware of the warm sun or the cool breeze or the students laughing
and talking and being vibrantly twenty years old on the lawn. All I can hear is my forty-four-year-old heart
thundering in my ears, pounding so hard and fast that my body quakes with the reverberations. Each time
I take a step, sweat trickles down the sides of my rib cage beneath my wool sweater. Long, thin pains
radiate out from my chest and down both arms like shards of glass making their way along my arteries. A
giant hand is tearing my heart out of my chest, and I am afraid.It probably tells you more than I want you
to know about me that it never crosses my mind to ask any of those passing by for help. Stoic to what I
am suddenly afraid might be the end, I think to myself, "Oriah, this would be a very stupid place to die."
Later I wonder what a smart place to die would look like, but for the moment I focus on moving forward,
convinced that I will be all right if I can make it to the library just across the quad and lie down in one of
the large armchairs in the reading room.And then suddenly, there on the sidewalk beneath the sun of an
impossibly ordinary afternoon, I hear part of the Pablo Neruda poem "Keeping Quiet" running through my
head like the lyrics to some sad melody being played in my body:If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.I am aware of what feels like a sharp, desert-dry stone in my
throat. I swallow it and focus on taking another step. It takes me ten minutes to traverse the usual two-
minute walk to the library. Lying in a lounge chair, I feel the pain slowly abate as my heartbeat gradually
returns to normal. And the last line of Neruda's poem runs through my mind again and again. Why am I
threatening myself with death? One doctor later declares I have had a mild heart attack, while another
maintains it was severe angina. Either way the message is the same: despite the articulation of my
sincerest intention to slow down and rest, I continue to do too much, to run too fast, to try too hard. I
continue to threaten myself with death.And this — this refusal to rest — is not the only way in which I
have been failing to...
Oriah is the author of the inspirational prose poem and international bestselling book The Invitation as well
as the bestsellers The Dance and The Call. Her writing sets forth in detail how we can follow the thread of
our heart's longing into a life of meaning and purpose. Her latest book, What We Ache For: Creativity and
the Unfolding of Your Soul, explores creativity as a way of accessing and cultivating a spiritually rich life.
Oriah is the mother of two grown sons. She lives with her husband, Jeff, several hours north of Toronto in
a home surrounded by forest stillness.