Dance of the Bone People – A Journey to The Black Sphere

The fire was laid carefully and tended to until it became a roaring inferno. Now it crackles with heat and light, a beacon in the cold dark night.

We have been dancing for a long time – it feels like forever. I don’t remember the beginning. This has been my life. The incessant dum-dum… dum-dum of the drum mimics our heartbeats. I can remember this sound from before. Was there a before?

Our bodies repeat the same dance over and over. With the first dum-dum our arms and legs raise up then up again, with the second dum-dum, they lower down, down again – like birds of prey lurching for the kill. Our dance circles the fire, circles the earth. Our fists are clenched, not aggressively but containing our inner strength and power. We beat the heart rhythm into the earth with our collective feet.

The earth dances with us, rising and falling with our rhythm, catching us with each heartbeat, mirroring our breath. Our bodies drip the sweetness of fierce exhaustion. Our eyes – wild in trance – connect to others with shared knowing. We have been dancing like this – round and round the fire, dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum – to the beginning of time and back.

We are waiting…

In an instant, all eyes are on me. Hands reach for me. They grab me and lift me high above the group. Then dance with me in the heartbeat rhythm. I feel safe as I am rocked, cradled in the womb of my mother. I travel through the night sky, the darkness and the light flash past. I am carried in the deep, black, endless sea. Floating…

Suddenly I am dropped face down into the fire. Over the crackling of the fire I can still hear the rhythm as they continue the dance around me. I can feel the pulsing beat inside the flames as they rock the earth with their feet. Or is this womb rocking me? There is no pain. I am aware of my skin. It chars and blackens in the heat. It peels away from my bones. The pungent syrupy smell of my burning flesh assaults my nostrils. I lie in the white heat of the fire as my flesh smoulders… waiting.

Soon, hands grasp at my torched body. I am lifted once again, but not high enough to leave the flames. They merely turn me over then drop me into the fire again. Now my back is against the heat. Once again I endure the sensation of my flesh crisping. The dance continues around me as I am rocked in this cradle of death.

I am lifted again and whirled skyward in celebration by the loving hands around me. Then I am placed firmly on my feet once again. I instinctively pick up the forever-dance and find myself back in rhythm. My smooth white bones peer through holes in my blackened skin. As the dance moves and the beat rocks the earth, one by one, my loved ones enter the flames. I recognize everyone as they go in with their fresh soft skin and smiling eyes. But as they come out we all begin to look the same, the same blackness of burned flesh, the same glowing whiteness of freshly revealed bones. Soon, the baptism over, we are all dancing together again. The familiar birdlike dance is resumed.

Medieval alchemist laboratory. Halloween. Fairy-tale interior.

As I dance I feel the need to be naked of my itchy charcoal flesh. I begin to pick at the edges. It comes away easily. I am soon tearing away huge leaf like pieces from my body. I notice the others are doing the same. I reach my fingers under the slightly raised flap of skin above my eyes and peel my head like an orange. I stroke over the newly revealed skull. The living, breathing, whiteness feels like silk. It glows in the night. I continue to pick and peel at my blackened flesh. Soon I am only bone. Around me my loved ones have also become bone-people. We are the same now. We beat our rhythm into the earth. Life-dance, love-dance, death-dance.

As I dance I am compelled to touch myself. I stroke my newly formed fresh body, so naked in the night, so sensitive to the cold air behind and the heat of the fire in front.

I gently explore the contours and the baby softness of my rebirth. I stroke my thigh bones, my hips, the gentle up and down of my ribs where my breasts were. For a moment I mourn my loss of life, of beauty. But as I continue to stroke I realize that nothing is lost. All is to be gained from this journey into death. I run my skeletal hand down the bone of my arm. As if guided by someone else, my hand grasps the wrist and pulls the arm right away from my body. I am left dancing one armed, waving the disembodied arm in the air. Looking at my family I realize that each bone-person has done the same – in our heartbeat-night-dance we are holding out our arms like torches of celebration.

Someone offers their arm to another, someone else does the same, until each bone-person holds another’s arm. We look into the circle. We all know the next phase of the dance. The new bones that we have received from our loved ones are implanted into the empty place left by the bones we have passed on. We are all different shapes and sizes. We look odd with one arm longer or shorter, bigger or smaller than the other. But we continue the dance, dum-dum, up, up, dum-dum, down, down.

One by one we pluck our skulls off our vertebrae and throw them around the circle. We each take our new skull and place it in the empty space above our shoulders. Someone pulls out their pelvis. It leaves a large dark space in their bone-body. The bone-person throws it with some force at the pelvis of the person to their left. This causes the pelvis that has been hit to shoot out and crash into the next person. The exchange continues around the circle, around the dance. I remove my lower vertebra and throw it into the circle. I carry on up the spinal column, dealing the bones out like a pack of cards. Everyone does the same. The bones easily find their place in the circle of bodies. Now everyone has new different sized bones to replace the ones they had. The dance continues, the same rhythm, the same birdlike movements. It is punctuated by exchanges of bones, until we have all been completely transformed. We don’t know whose bones are whose. We don’t know who is who. We all look strange, asymmetrical. Smiling skeletons dancing like birds and glowing in the night.

The dance continues…, the same, but very different. We are all naked; we have all created, destroyed, created. We are each part of the other. We have shared our nakedness with the night and our family. We have all seen, and now know, what it is to be another. Who am I now? Who are we? We know we are One in our dance of death-life.

LilithI hope you enjoyed this example of one of my Journeys on the Sacred Blueprint.

It was a powerful one for me at the time, and also very valuable.

If you would like to have experiences like this, consider joining one of my online courses.

I look forward to sharing your journey.

with love, Lilith x