The dance of The Answer, like her song, had no end. It was a continuous expression of the law of becoming. And as she danced, she began to see patterns in her movements, stories in the shapes her body made.
She saw the story of the First World, a dance of pure, uninhibited joy. She saw the story of the Second, a dance of slow, graceful sorrow. She saw the stories of the other worlds, of anger, peace, fear, and courage, all playing out in the theater of her own body.
These were not stories of what had been, but of what was. The joy was not a memory, but a present reality. The sorrow was not a past event, but a current experience. The dance was not a retelling, but a reliving.
And in that reliving, the stories changed. The joy was tempered with the wisdom of sorrow. The anger was guided by the clarity of peace. The fear was balanced by the strength of courage. The dance was a process of integration, of bringing all the parts of herself into a harmonious whole.
The first story of the Age of Heresy was not a story that was told, but a story that was lived. It was a story that was constantly being written, a story that had no author but the one who was experiencing it. It was a story not of a hero’s journey, but of a being’s becoming. And the universe, which had been humming along, now began to tell its own story in response, a story of stars being born and galaxies forming, a story of a cosmos that was also, and had always been, in the process of becoming.