The Dance for Life

The events of the night were coming back to him slowly—a kaleidoscope of fragmented memories and blurry visions furiously shifting, rearranging, and merging to form a rough timeline. Had he broken free in time? Why couldn’t he feel his legs? The memories were fuzzy and distant, yet in a very surreal way, they were visceral and blinding.

Ah, yes—that’s right. He was out searching for something. Was he hunting? No, he was searching for it.

And he encountered it.

It was rumored to appear at the heart of the ancient, whispering forest during the first full moon of the new season, its arrival shrouded in mystery and expectation. But to what end? No one knew for certain. Speculations by the nearby townsfolk oscillated between a malevolent trap and a generous opportunity, each tale more tantalizing and terrifying than the last. Though many wondered, few possessed the courage to seek it, undeterred by the provocative, bone-chilling tales of its survivors. For it was more than a simple rumor; it was a Seductress—a spirit cloaked in ethereal beauty, blessed with the gift of divine insight but cursed with a ravenous appetite for human consciousness. Its form was a mesmerizing fusion of light and shadow, shimmering with an otherworldly glow that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the forest itself. Its eyes, deep pools of starlit wisdom, beckoned and ensnared. To gaze upon it was to surrender to its majestic will, to be drawn into its orbit with little hope of escape. If one could toe the line of seeking holy counsel with this celestial being—engaged in a whimsical, hypnotic dance, the price of said counsel—without pushing their body beyond the point of death by complete exhaustion, they would return with a new perspective and wisdom beyond their years. If one could toe the line.

Many who sought the spirit were often scholars and theologians, shamans and scientists, lured into its domain by its reputation for prophetic accuracy. Others, the majority, were laypeople, seeking self-righteous glory or perhaps even to challenge the being. He, however, was a different breed. A man of wealth and privilege, he had been born into a life of comfort, his every need met with the snap of his fingers. Yet, this life of abundance left him hollow, yearning for something more, something beyond the tangible luxuries and social accolades. He fell somewhere in between these seekers, among the crowd of those whose hearts yearned for the relief of understanding, led into the trees by that same troublesome curiosity that drove all who dared to stand before the elusive spirit. This insatiable desire for deeper meaning gnawed at his soul, propelling him in search of answers only God could provide.

But God would not be so easily found. His search lasted for hours. No, all night, was it?

He remembered. The moon had risen, peaked, and just begun its descent. Leads led to dead ends, and suspicious sounds revealed themselves to be mere nightcrawlers. His eyes were growing heavy, and his attention drifted from his task to his conundrum—that nagging, unanswered question burned a hole in the recesses of his mind. He would not leave empty-handed.

Dance with me.

Then, his feet were shuffling across the moss, his head bobbing, his arms swaying through the midnight air. He was unsure when it happened, but he was not alone. The moonlight cast both their silhouettes across the thick tree trunks. What could a man like you possibly need from a thing like me?

“Spirit,” he lauded, “I seek your wisdom.”

That much is obvious. The words blared directly into his mind, perhaps even his soul. Its voice was no voice at all, rather pure intent originating from nowhere. The only sounds his ears could make out were the staccato snaps of twigs under his jostling feet and the deepening heaves of his own breath. To what end?

He remembered trying to quiet the commotion in his mind, to be fully present in this once-in-a-lifetime moment. But he had been chosen by the deity of his people. How could he possibly? “What is the purpose of this life,” the words leapt from his mouth just as he had rehearsed.

To live.

That answer stunned him, his racing mind ignoring the burning in his calves to focus on the deeper meaning behind such a trite response. “Yes, but surely there’s more?”

More to life than living? Their movement had drawn a crowd. Tiny eyes perched high on tree branches, hidden within the safety of bushes, and peeking through obscure burrows watched as his sweat-drenched body flung itself in circles. The burning had spread to his thighs, creating a stiffness in his lower back. His shoulders also labored to keep up with the increasing tempo of the Spirit’s whimsy, but he paid this no mind. Yes of course, there had to be more to life than simply existing. Why wouldn’t there be? “What else would drive men to conquer their environment or sail the seas?” Had he thought that last question or spoken it?

So, you seek to know about the curious nature of humankind? Is that why you’ve come?

“No, I apologize. Perhaps I have not been clear. What is the purpose of my life?”

Your purpose is to live.

Much of the night was still shrouded in a murky haze, fragments of memories slipping through his mind like sand through fingers. He knew, however, that this was when his recollections began to fray and unravel. Time had lost all meaning. No longer was he merely tiptoeing across the forest floor; Instead, he was pirouetting through the foggy, moonlit air. His body groaned uncontrollably, levitated by the Seductress's pure will. What had once been a graceful dance had reduced to a spasmodic, desperate scuttle. His arms flailed and twitched, as though conducting a symphony of madness. Frustration mounted within him, boiling over with every passing moment, for it seemed impossible to articulate his innermost desires and fears. Words eluded him, slipping away just as he grasped at them. Say what you mean, human. It was as though his thoughts were no longer private.

“Why am I not satisfied,” his soul demanded, for his throat was too parched to form the words aloud. “Mine is a life that most men would envy. I have a flock of 10,000 sheep grazing the richest pastures and 5,000 oxen plowing fields of abundance. I possess more gold than I know what to do with, glittering in my coffers, and my businesses thrive beyond measure. My wives have borne me many sons, all healthy and strong, their laughter filling our halls. I sit upon the council of the chief himself, his ear mine to influence, his decisions swayed by my counsel.” The night air seemed to mock his anguish, echoing his spasms, but still, he did not relent. “And yet, it is not enough. Please, Spirit,” he implored, gazing into the Seductress’s inscrutable eyes, “when will it be enough? There must be more to my life than this.” The muscles in his legs and arms locked in agony, his lungs dry-heaving for whatever last few vestiges of air they could muster. 

But the spirit merely returned his gaze with a detached stare.

As I've said, it's in your nature to be plagued by insatiable curiosity, a restless yearning that drives your kind to explore the unknown. You speak of conquering environments and sailing seas. Yet here you are, driven by that same thirst for understanding, for meaning. The vision was slowly fading from his eyes, but the sight of the indifferent, unyielding Seductress remained hauntingly clear. Here you are, risking this enviable life of yours to ask me a question that I have answered twice now. Yes, there is more to your existence than those transient things.

He fought to understand, to feel the truth in what it was telling him, to decipher its riddles—when suddenly, understanding washed over him. It was clearer than it had ever been, and perhaps even more obvious than he expected. Of course there was more to this life, “but only if I live to experience it.”