” . . . creating not only allows you to live . . . but the life that it offers you is a wonderful one, of an intensity, a fullness, and a richness without equal.”
Over the weekend, I finished a book that completely surprised me: The Danger to Be Sane: Creativity and the Eccentric Mind by Rosa Montero. The review in the New York Times called it, “an ebullient examination of madness, mortality and suicide.” What’s not to love, I thought. So I ordered it, anticipating insights from psychology, neuroscience and literature on the connection between creativity and mental vulnerability. I got that, of course, but what I wasn’t expecting was an ending focused on what Montero calls, the “Great Dance.”
There is no possible way for me to paraphrase what Montero means by the “Great Dance,” so following are two excerpts. They are very beautiful and very wise. The first excerpt:
In my best moments . . . I am able to escape from the blind, agonizing prison of my individuality and perceive that plural breath, the first cadence, the music of the spheres, the palpitation of the world. I am a small fish in an immense shoal, I am a goldfish and I know how to dance the greatest dance which is simultaneously the most intimate. We must persevere at this, our dancing; we must learn to move faster and faster, like dervishes in order to join the vibrating, breathing whole. Listen carefully to what I am telling you and have hope: maybe in reality that final journey will be as simple as this, as easy as this; all that is needed is to keep death in step with the collective rhythm. I want to die dancing, just as I write.
The second excerpt:
No one remembers the millions and million of individuals who came before us, that immense legion of tiny existences. If you listen closely enough, you may be able to hear the rumble of their footsteps on the Earth, the rhythm of their feet dancing the Great Dance. Life is a tiny dream, a mirage of light in an eternity of darkness. And that is nothing, and it is everything.
Listen carefully, listen closely and keep dancing.
12 responses to “We Must Keep Dancing”
Wow, I really hate that so much it surprises me. Maybe there’s something important for me to learn there. Or maybe not.
Just now seeing your comment, Neola. You posted it while I was posting mine. Could you be more specific about what you hate so much? I’m genuinely curious.
“prison of my individuality” let’s start there. Perhaps that context made me feel the “dance” was as part of the collective JUST part of that collective. Of course I could be totally wrong but I feel there is nothing as important as our individuality, and that our “dance” should be as unique and varied as possible. To me, that’s our biggest and most important challenge as humans and indeed as creatives – to value what makes us different, to fan the precious flames of our individual fires, to learn to listen closely and entirely to our intricate irreplaceable music.
I have struggled against suicidal compulsion all my life. Winning so far. It informs my creativity in terms of darkness and pain but I don’t think it has much of a gift otherwise. Maybe I’m just but seeing it.
Anything that feeds your soul, my friend, is a good thing. And it is entirely possible I’m just not evolved enough to hear it. I’m evolved enough to know that, lol
Thank you for coming back to specify your comment, Neola. You have always been a champion for individuality and in many ways, have helped me to define who I am.
You are very evolved.❣️
An excerpt from the New York Times book review of Montero’s book:
“. . . that creative people, particularly writers, have weird brains is not news, but Montero’s approach proves fascinating and even suspenseful. She’s steadfast in her empathy even when exploring the most extreme emotions, impulses and psychological quirks — including her own. ‘Submit to being called a neurotic, you belong to that splendid and pitiable family which is the salt of the earth.’”
A quote from Montero’s book that captures precisely (and rather frighteningly) my thoughts much of the time:
“I’ll say it again: there is something missing in the minds of that percentage of more creative people, something that prevents us from fully believing in the mirage of ‘normality.’ . . . . It occurs to me that most humans are not thinking about the abyss; they do not obsess over the meaning of life, or the inevitability of death, or the absurdity of it all . . . but we do. We don’t quite believe the reliability and continuity of all things.”
That being said, Montero implores her readers to keep dancing.
Your creativity is WAAAY out of my range. I do get the exhortation to “keep dancing”
Hmmmmm. Not sure how to respond. The book spoke to me. I thought it was a wise and eloquent study about the struggle of writers like Sylvia Plath and Virginia Woolfe, both of whom committed suicide. The writer herself has struggled with suicide as have I. That the book ended on an uplifting and inspiring message really spoke to me, particularly during a very challenging time. It doesn’t have to speak to anyone else.
Charlotte, Montero’s prose and style is very much like the mystical writings of Cynthia Bourgeault whose books I have liked and which you have recommended. Frankly, I wouldn’t have had the focus I had reading Montero’s book if I hadn’t been exposed to Bourgeault. Bourgeault was WAAAY out of my range the first time I read her, but I plowed through and am grateful I did.
I hope the photos at least make this a worthwhile post to ponder for a minute.
I LOVE the challenge. It is interesting that this challenge either invites us deeper into life or into leaving life. Maybe one cannot enter into life and creativity more fully without first considering the possibility of letting go.
“Maybe one cannot enter into life and creativity more fully without first considering the possibility of letting go.”
Wise words, Charlotte. Thank you.🙏❤️