If you had special glasses you would see that as the dancers weave across the floor their souls entwine like vapor trails in the rafters. It makes a kind of spiritual soup with all of the burdens and joys in the dancers’ hearts intermingling like flavors: strong, sweet, and bitter. Whether it’s compost, the river bottom, or plasma in the center of the sun, something in the universe knows that soup is good.
Here’s what I found at Spring Dance Romance at Camp Sertoma this year. I invite you to share your thoughts and memories.